‘Partava Nashul’
Party vote National.
‘Rababul cup’
Rugby World Cup.
‘Cawdun stisdix this guvmind iza strawdree wun’
According to statistics this government is an extraordinary one.
I don’t understand half of what you say.
I can’t comprehend the policies you rush through in the middle of the night.
Even if you told me directly I would not understand your slurs.
Your colloquialisms offered to quash fears in the minds of the people, becomes further distorted by your drunken sounding version of a kiwi accent.
Was this stupidity?
Perhaps mild brain damage?
Was it truly a brilliant strategy?
Confusing people into submission with your post stroke words seems to have worked.
I fear your roundabout way of talking will leave this country emaciated.
It gives me the shits thinking about it.
I grow thinner with each coming day.
I fear your jokes when asked serious questions about asset sales will result in a country of sad mimes
Trapped in a box that is shaped like New Zealand that we no longer own
Completely caged and utterly voiceless, inside our own home
Like whales in an aquarium waiting to die
Owned and kept prisoner by the interest of foreigners who want to make money out of us.
I am truly nervous
When they believe when you say
‘Resashaw thus cundrees un sayf vans.’
I am not so sure it is in safe hands.
I will not sleep easy for the next three years at best.
At worse, I shudder to think.
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