The secret diary of ... Winter

Now is the winter of John Key, Grant Dalton and Judith Collins.

Judith Collins

It's raining, but I've decided to take this opportunity in the latest issue of current affairs magazine the New Zealand Woman's Weekly to further resurrect my career and reposition myself as someone with a heart by thanking my husband David for getting me through these rainy days and Mondays, which always get me down.

He's been an awning. He's been the milk of human kindness. All he ever wanted to do was give Oravida milk to the thirsty Chinese but the forces of evil intervened, and it spilt. I cried. I cried like rain. I called the media and advised them my tears were evidence I was
someone with a heart.

I said to my media adviser, "Do you think the media will ever leave me alone?"

She said, "I hope not."

"Me too," I said, and drew up plans for a Judith Collins Awareness Week. The logo will feature a heart, which I understand is an organ somewhere within the human body.

Grant Dalton

It's raining, so I hollered, "Barker! Get off your arse and hoist the sails or whatever.

I'm getting soaked."

But Dean didn't reply. Typical. He's always been a moody, difficult sort of rooster. Every time I see him these days he's got his nose in a book of how to learn Japanese.

I roared, "Waddell! It's raining. Do something about it - 'oar' else, you fat oaf! Haw, haw!"
But Rob didn't reply. Actually I haven't seen or heard him of him in ages come to think of it.

I bellowed, "Derek Saward! Winston Macfarlane! Chris McAsey! Chris Ward! James Dagg! Where are youse idiots when I need you?"

But they didn't reply. Where was everyone? Had they all deserted? It was as if the Team New Zealand boat was a ghost ship. It sailed into the fog.

I couldn't see anything. I felt afraid.

And soaking wet, but not because it was raining.

I'd fallen overboard and sank like a rock.

Pam Corkery

I'm dancing in the rain. I'm dancing with the stars. I'm dancing as fast as I can.

They shoot horses, don't they? Oh God.

Graeme Wheeler

It's raining, but as Governor of the Reserve Bank I'm pleased to announce that we've cut rates for the first time in more than four years, from 3.5 per cent to 3.25 per cent, due to weakening dairy prices and low inflation.

We felt that demand growth was likely to be slowing over that period particularly given the change in dairy prices and also the rise in petrol prices and that if we delayed we ran the risk that further down the track we'd have to be more aggressive.

Apparently it's still raining.

John Key

It's raining, but at the end of the day there's not a lot the government can do about that, or about Clayton Park Primary School in Manurewa, which is riddled with toxic mould and makes staff and children sick, or about cold, damp state houses, which have been blamed for the deaths of two tenants, although I'll certainly hold talks with the appropriate ministers, who I understand have been briefed by the Cabinet that the bad weather we've been having is due to the Labour Party.

Paora Maxwell

It's raining, but what's a bit of ua, which is the Maori word for rain? As the head of Maori Television, I'm alright. I've got my feet up. It's nice and quiet here. It's got a lot nicer and quieter since I was appointed. Carol Hirschfeld left. Julian Wilcox left. And now Mihingarangi Forbes has left.

I called out today, "Is anybody there?"

All I heard was the rain.

It's as if Maori Television has become a ghost ship. It's sailing into the fog. I can't
see anything in front of me. I'm lost.

Never mind! I'm the CEO, and I've got my feet up.