KEY POINTS:
Dear John. Now there's a couple of words guaranteed to plunge a dagger of dread into a bloke's frail heart.
Especially when they come at the start of a letter written by a lady person of the opposite sex with whom one has previously enjoyed what the French
so insouciantly call, un lesion dangereux.
And particularly especially when they're followed by the even more dreadful words, "Oh, how I hate to write."
Because, in my experience, sir, receipt of a letter commencing "Dear John" and continuing "Oh, how I hate etc, etc ... " usually means the wedding's off but you still have to pay the deposit on the Honeymoon Suite at the Top 10 Holiday Park in Dargaville (Hot Water Optional).
Which I have, sir, on several occasions, alas. But we mustn't linger in the swamps of misery, your grace. Not here, not now, and certainly not when this missive is boldly penned as a glorious exception to the cruel rule.
Truth is, Dear John, I do not hate to write. In a year or so, perchance, but not now, your frantic activeness.
Owe contraire - as they say in the money markets. I write with Joy in my heart and Hope in my soul. And both of them join with me in offering you our warmest congratulations.
Indeed, your egalitarian eminence, its fair to say, if congratulations were cocoa, your mug would be overflowing - although, I see in The Harold, you've appointed Mr Williamson Minister of Building and Construction so we must hope he won't be leaking.
And we're sure he won't be if you've got anything to do with it, great rampantness.
For that has been the Key ingredient of your fledgling administration, John. You have, as those addicted to cliche may say, hit the ground running, sir, as those addicted to cliche may say.
(And those addicted to repetition say it twice!!!)
But its true, your dynamism! I was saying as much to my fiancees in the spa pool last night. "Gosh," I said to Joy and Hope as the sensuous bubbles caressed their languid, lissome limbs, "Gosh, it seems only yesterday Mr Key was impressing us all with his fluency and joi de cest quoi in the Leaders' Debates.
"And now, in what seems but a trice, a Nonu-nano-second, the blink of a heedless eye ... [I always get a bit poetical in the spa pool, sir]" ... we've got world peace, a brand new Cabinet and a Christmas shipment of genetically modified horse flu vaccine for that nice Mr Peters.
"Isn't that marvellous, my angels?"
I think they agreed although it's always hard to know what girls are saying when they're wearing leather masks and spurs.
However, be that as it may, your leaderness, it goes without saying that the breathtaking rate of change we've observed since your triumphant elevation from State house to Government House has been an inspiration to us all in the troubled times that lie ahead. (Well, to be fair, sir, I'm not sure Mr Fill Goff is tripping the light fandango but then I'm not sure he ever did. He doesn't seem to me to be a fandango sort of fellow, if you get my drift.)
Whereas you, on the the other hand, have not only tripped the light fandango, you've danced the fast fantastic to boot.
You've moved with the speed of a human laxative, sir. And we are in ore - which can't be mined, unfortunately, although, maybe with the changes you're planning to the RMA that will change.
As much else must, dear John. And there's the rub, if I may say so. You see, sir, we, your humble serpents, may tell you we want change but that doesn't mean we want the same change.
Indeed, the things that some of us want to change may be the very things that others don't want to change at all and even if they do want change, it's highly likely the change they want is not the change that we want and verse vica.
Our conflicting expectations may yet be your downfall, noble transformator. But for now, suffice it to say that you have turned inertia into ertia - and stemmed the rapid rate of "nots".
Good luck with the trip to Apec, sir - let's hope Air New Zealand hasn't made the pilot redundant. And wasn't it nice of Bill English to suggest you take time out for a bit of sight-seeing? A cruise off the Somali coast in an unescorted yacht loaded with gold bullion sounds like a marvellous idea!!!
So, bon voyage, John. You go with the hopes of a nation in your briefcase. And remember this; Apec is actually an anagram. It's really Cape backwards - or near enough - and there's no Cape like the Cape of Good Hope, sir. Which is what we're all very keen to have a little bit of at last, what with Christmas looming just around the corner and the great global meltdown rearing its ugly head in the chimney of our dreams.
Yours, in eternal optimism (and the spa pool),
A Voter.