And so it came to pass, there were MPs without a party and a party without MPs. This is not a new story, but has happened so many times before. It causes such instability that the universe itself reaches out to restore order.
At the last election, it was that ignoble pairing of Billy Te Kahika and Jami-Lee Ross. And with a little bit of shuffling, and not a small sprinkling of conspiracy theory with which to season it, oh yes and a soupçon of sexual harassment (for what story would be complete without it today), the Advance New Zealand Party was born, and shrivelled, and died.
And the earth was without form and void. And darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Covid came upon us like a messenger from the deeps. And freedom was denied to those who craved it.
There were lockdowns, mandates, vaccinations, rules and regulations to sap the spirit and depress sperm production. The blame was placed squarely on Jacinda Ardern, on the basis that young women cannot be leaders. Whether she was bitch or witch the followers did not know, but perhaps a little of each.
And the chance to overturn came and went, with the occupation of Parliament, that evil place, with little to show but a charred slide and scorched earth. And the democracy of the vile and smug continued.
And like all prophets, there were two. One came first, heralding the other. It was foretold. And the first was Uffin Dell, who stood in the river of Styx, near the gates of Mordor, and contemplated the wreck of his life. And grieved.
And the second was Sharma Drama, whose name was anointed by the chosen one, who sits in or near the heavens. He of the order of the motor bike, who then announced that the last will be first, that the times they are a’changin’.
And together they met in the back stalls of Copperfields, excitement in their hearts, to be seen but not seen. And, later, together they ventured out flanked by St Brian, perhaps St Billy and certainly St Jami-Lee, to sell Kangen water to the masses and announce a new political party for next year’s general election, to be known as the Free for All Party.
And those of grievance flocked to it. Cost of living, three waters, floods, forestry, land ownership, housing, wages, occupation, land rights, mandates (no), masks (hell no), Covid (does not exist), public hanging (for our enemies), anti-government, pro-freedom at whatever cost.
And they came at the election like a tidal wave, challenging the unfinished business, the homelessness, the child poverty, state racism and all signs of liberalism. And they were for and against Māori wording on Whittaker’s Chocolate.
And let us make it clear. The Free for All party, whatever it is called, whether it hangs the flag upside down, whoever is in the lead, is likely to be represented in Parliament after the 2023 election.
They will flock together, the fascists, the incels, the libertarians, the activists for whom no solution can be found, the deluded, those down a rabbit hole of lies and deceit, those of particular or peculiar faith, the outcasts, those without home, and they will shelter together under the comforting but slightly shocking banner of teh flag turned upside down. And, for a time, take comfort from one another.
And the theme of that party, and the cry of all in such hard times, will be freedom, however elusive that may be in practice.
And whether it be the freedom to fly, or to know oneself, or yet to shake the shackles of intolerable society, or to find oneself, live the best life, live in the gap between stories, to remove the inner shackles or overthrow oppression forced upon one, freedom is indeed a state to be desired, which all parties should remember, come 2023.