Goff and the frontbenchers suspiciously cheery

Phil Goff. Photo / Steven McNicholl

The Labour frontbenchers arrived alone or pairs, tense and grim-faced and all with the same message, repeated over and over in response to the questions that greeted them: their views would be voiced only behind closed doors.

Only two of the usual 12 frontbenchers were missing: Clayton Cosgrove stayed in Christchurch to deal with the Government's announcement of the Earthquake Authority; Darren Hughes had resigned two days earlier.

For the next three hours, all that was seen of the 10 Labour MPs at that meeting were shadowy figures behind the stained glass windows of Otago University staff building's billiard room.

Outside, the media waited to hear if Mr Goff was to be snookered, whether evil intent lurked within those stone walls after days of whisperings.

They finally emerged, rictus grins on faces, and stood behind Mr Goff while he delivered the results.

Behind him, they nodded like bulldog toys in the back of car. When he announced he had unanimous support from his frontbenchers, it set off a Mexican wave of determined head nodding. They also laughed. When an apparently ridiculous question about Mr Goff's support levels was asked, they laughed scornfully as one. When Mr Goff made a joke they again laughed as one, too loud and too long.

Some overdid it. David Cunliffe stood glued to Mr Goff's side when they arrived and when he was asked how he would have handled it had he been Labour's leader, he announced "I'm delighted to say I'm not the leader of the Labour Party." He went on, further announcing that the actual leader of the Labour Party was "right here and he has my full support".

Afterward, he was again glued to Mr Goff's side. He nodded so hard when Mr Goff said he had unanimous support that he risked a dislocation. When Mr Goff was asked how he had tested his unanimous support, it was Mr Cunliffe who answered first, yelping "because we told him" and shaking his head in disbelief at the suggestion a show of hands might have been required.

After nearly a week of intense scrutiny, rebuffing rumours of leadership challenges and facing questions about naked men running through the streets of pre-dawn suburban Wellington, Mr Goff put on his brave face.

He did his utmost to convince the world his party was back to its happy place - the almost jubilant mood in which they began the year. He tried to return the discussion to the issues that had so enlivened his caucus then - National's plan for partial state asset sales and other policies with which they could make hay before the ballot boxes were assembled.

He made jokes. "Let the cripple out first", he laughed as he nursed Trevor Mallard down steps. When someone asked about the wheelchair bound Mr Mallard's broken bones, the result of a cycling accident, Mr Goff replied with: "he broke caucus discipline," hooting at the very thought.

When asked about a sighting of himself with David Parker - one of those at the centre of apparently unfounded coup rumours - he said secretive meetings would hardly be over sushi on a street-side table when half the Press Gallery was in town. "It cost $9. David paid."

He did everything except openly admit to making mistakes in handling the issue, beyond saying that the perfect strategy was "hindsight". Instead he said the heat of the fire had strengthened his leadership.

Beside him Mr Cunliffe nodded. Then Mr Goff left to go for lunch and so too did his unanimous supporters, once again in small groups.