Provoked, one assumes, by recent revelations around livestock transportation, the Ovine Militant Guild, an organisation with links to the notorious cryptoanarchist Lambshank, has hacked the Prime Minister's personal Hotmail account and published the inbox contents on Snapchat. An edited selection from the week follows...
Quick question. You said in the house yesterday I was "outstanding" as housing minister. You did mean the first dictionary definition, as in "excellent", didn't you, rather than the second, "not dealt with"?
I only ask because that Brook Sabin from 3 News keeps pushing me to tell him things, pushing, pushing, pushing, and before you can say first right of refusal for iwi on Crown land I find myself on a bus driving media around Auckland, pointing randomly at traffic islands.
It's like a jungle sometimes. It makes me wonder how I keep from going under.
All the best mate,
Good to see that the last, stupid Labour government has been roundly humiliated by the release of those old Cabinet papers, which vindicate me completely and confirm that it was indeed the last, stupid Labour government which landed us deep in Saudi sheep doo-doo, as proven in the words that have been redacted and covered with thick black lines.
In conclusion, then, all a beat-up by the media and the last, stupid Labour government, best not give it another thought, close your eyes and imagine a beautiful golf course, you are becoming very sleepy, not another thought, sleepy. Lots to focus on, starting with the housing catastrophe and the overspend debacle at MBIE and the swamp kauri.
The bloke from HSBC who wrote the thing about the rock star economy has written another thing in the Herald about it and what he's saying is that the rock star economy is specifically an economy like the rock stars from a chart-topping beat combo that go by the name "Nirvana".
So I asked Todd, the young bloke who's babysitting my seat, I asked him about this combo, and he said something about naked babies swimming with cash in swimming pools and bloody teens drinking spirits and trouble on Courtenay Place, so I was thinking we might get Steven to take the questions on this one, eh?
Quick question. You said in the House yesterday I had "gone to the regions". You did mean "the regions", didn't you, rather than, say, "Siberia"?
Your true mate,
Just so you know, any suggestion of profligate spending at MBIE was a beat-up by the media and the Opposition, that's the key learning from hard-working focus groups up and down the country.
Nevertheless I've dragged a few ministry officials into the opulent marble bathroom at Stout St, I bet you'd like the tap fittings, quite magnificent, and I've banged a few heads together with the help of the excellent hair-straightening technology.
A few minor head wounds notwithstanding, everyone is now on the same page. With all due respect, don't give it another thought.
Lots to focus on, starting with the housing catastrophe and the Saudi flying sheep farm-of-death multi-million payout debacle and the swamp kauri and Judith.
Listen, did I tell you the one about the volcanic speaker of the House who celebrated his 800th birthday this week? Yeah, you know it, David Magma Carter, that's who. Boom!
Hi. Did you get my texts?
C Finlayson J Key salutem dicit.
Donec eris felix, multos numerabis amicos. Lupus non curat numerum ovium. Carpe diem. Cave canem. Amor patriae ducit. Praemonitus pramunitus. Sectare Fidem. Caecilius est in horto. Eram, eras, erat. Kia kaha.
Listen, bigshot. Did you arch your back and snarl at that Maggie Barry to pass on my views with regard to her neutering belligerence like you promised me you would?
Moonbeam Smokey Fluffy Key
Dear Mr John.
How ewe doing? But enough joking around. The House of Saud has received notification of disrespectful articles regarding the expiry of baby sheep appearing upon your news media channels.
We await urgent confirmation that you will immediately order the cessation of aforesaid. We understand the offender in this matter is one Mr Heather Duplex. We politely suggest you flog him. Also flog Mr Brok Sabing. He sounds to me like a pushy little puffed-up shit. Inshallah,
Salman bin Abdulaziz Al Saud
John, dearest. What a hot mess things are turning into over at Steven's "super" business ministry, hmm? Massive screens, hair straighteners and sun decks? You know what Freud would say, darling: it's a bad case of penis MBIE. Yah!
I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it any more. I have been used, abused and discarded like a cheap floppy disk. And believe me I have options. Before me, right here on my desk, I have an invitation to appear on the US television programme Ellen, a 1996 manifesto for the Libertarianz Party, and a $15-off voucher for the Pakuranga Countdown. Don't make me do it, John.
Mr Maurice Williamson, elected constituency MP
Quick question. Did you get my emails earlier? Just to say the housing problem is under control. Don't give it another thought. Lots to focus on, starting with the puffer jacket in schools situation.
John! Gosh I feel awfully for poor Nick. What a corpse flower! Awful! Poor Steven! Poor Murray! And most especially, Poor John, being left in the lurch like that. I'm on my way in now. Everything is going to be OK.
John. John here. Cup of tea?