Jim Hopkins: Freeze on fiscal festivities as Economy tightens its belt

Christmas is coming
And the geese are getting fat
But Dr Bollard's got a plan
To put an end to that!!

And not a moment too soon, thought the Economy, fighting back waves of nausea.

It had not been a good night for the Economy. In fact, it had been diabolical. A series of stabbing pains and violent aches had seen their hapless victim up and down more often than the Crisis Lift at the TVNZ boardroom.

What made that particularly galling - apart from the pain itself - is that there'd been no hint of the misery to come at the start of the evening.

Everything had seemed perfectly spiffing at the premiere. Well, better than spiffing, actually.

Superannuationisticexpendalidocious; that's how it had seemed as the Economy strode proudly down the red carpet, shoulder-to-shoulder with the rest of the stars.

The crowd was cheering, the band was playing, fawning journalists thrust microphones under the Economy's nose.

"Isn't this great," they gushed. "Do you like New Zealand?"

"I should do," quipped the Economy, "I've lived here all my life!"

"Oh, we thought you were important," said the journalists and dashed off looking for someone who was.

"No matter," said the Economy, somewhat crestfallen, but assuaging his disappointment by generously signing an eager fan's cheque. "At least this will do my GDP the world of good."

But it hadn't, alas.

The first sign of trouble came in the rented limo on the way home. It was just a minor niggle, a sudden twinge in the fiscal rectitude but it did make the Economy wince.

Sadly, as we know, that was but a harbinger of what was to come in the hellish hours that followed. Eventually, brow furrowed with pain, the Economy could bear it no longer.

"This is awful," groaned the victim, "especially so close to Christmas. If I don't get help I won't be able to enjoy any of those treats in the basket of currencies under the tree. I must see a Doctor!"

So the Economy did, secretly terrified that these sudden afflictions were the first symptoms of Third (World) Flu.

"You're lucky we don't know what's wrong with you," sniffed the receptionist at the PHO. "If we did, we could bump you off the Super Urgent Waiting List and put you on the Nearly Urgent Waiting List for people who're waiting to go on the Super Urgent Waiting List.

"But that'll come soon enough. Once Doctor has a diagnosis, we can immediately start reassigning you."

"That's nice," gasped the Economy, feebly flicking through the waiting room copy of Property Investor. "What seems to be the trouble?" said the Doctor cheerfully when the Economy finally entered the surgery.

"Well Doctor Cullen," mumbled the Economy, desperately hoping that was indeed the name of this medical saviour, "for some time now I've been trying to make my ends meet, but without success.

"And now there are other symptoms. Rising inflation. And my bracket's started to creep as well."

"Go behind the screen and remove all your credit cards," said Doctor Cullen.

The Economy did so and reappeared, a much more shrivelled entity.

"Ahha!" said Doctor Cullen. "The problem is obvious. You've either got Profligacia or Bollardosis. I prescribe a tightening of the belt and the elimination of all debt!!"

"Would tax cuts help?" sobbed the anguished Economy.

"Of course not," snapped Doctor Cullen. " If I gave you tax cuts you'd have more money and what would you do with it, you reckless Economy? You'd spend it, that's what you'd do! And that would be seriously inflationary!

"I simply can't allow it," he continued. "I cannot allow anything that might encourage reckless or unnecessary spending!"

"Excuse me," retorted the Economy, briefly experiencing a surge of indignation, "didn't you just pass a bill giving every tertiary student in the country an interest-free loan? And might that not encourage reckless or unnecessary spending?"

"Of course not!" hooted the Doctor. "People might waste money but students won't. Besides, even if they do, they've already voted for us, so it doesn't matter."

"I see," said the Economy, suddenly feeling sick again. "I presume you'd say the same about Working for Families? Even though it means people like Cabinet ministers earning $100,000 and paying wealth tax can now apply for a benefit?"

"Most assuredly," grinned Doctor Cullen. "Think of the jobs that will create. And the taxes those administrators will pay. I certainly do.

"But, enough, you wanton spendthrift. We're here to cure you, not me. Merely because the Economy has to tighten its belt doesn't mean the Government has to."

"But you're using my money," wailed the Economy.

"Don't be absurd," retorted the Doctor. "You just look after it for a while, that's all. Till we get to spend it. And much more wisely than you ever would, I might add!

"You should try to export more," added the Doctor brusquely as he wrote a prescription for higher interest rates and dismissed his ailing patient.

"What a lousy Christmas present," sobbed the Economy as it waited for a bus. Through the mists of pain came the awful feeling that this prescription wouldn't help and that a permanent cure was still a long way off.