Roused from her underground slumber by the attentions being lavished upon arch nemesis Nicky Hager, the notorious hooded internet ninja Lambshank has again been seeking to hack the loftiest inboxes among the citizenry of New Zealand.

Unfortunately both Lorde and Peter Thiel have two-step verification, however, so instead she just invaded the Prime Minister's email.

Here then is a selection of electronic messages to Bill English, none of which we have been able to verify, but honestly nothing is real any more, so what's the difference.

From Nick Smith:

Bro! Me old mucker! I tell you this, we are on the cusp of something special, or to put it another way, the forecast for 2040 is blue skies and sun! Houses for all, pests eradicated, all of them, gone, even the Labour Party, haha, you know me! I can see the brighter future of 2040 even now. New Zealanders up and down the country gaily plunging into crystal waters, thanks to a big river clean-up and/or advances in virtual reality technology. A stable economy with modernised superannuation.


A train from Auckland airport to the CBD - look, over there, at that pair of friendly old coots in the second carriage! Isn't that a beloved former prime minister and his close friend, confidant and former colleague? They're just shooting the breeze, talking sheep shearing and fiscal prudence, could be brothers. Gold cards tucked into their leather belt pouches, off for a nice cup of tea on Waiheke. ;-) Got time for a drink? Talk soon.

From John Key:

So busy, flat out actually, but yeah just a quick note you know. Did you find that golf ball I balanced on the desk lamp? Classic. Hectic actually, lots on. Did you see the story about how spiders could eat us all in a year? Makes you think. Did that concert with Richard Branson, amazing guy, he's like a little kid with a hay-bale beard actually, but he was saying to me ... [continues in this vein for several pages] ... and I said, "straight to the pool room!" and everyone cracked up it was classic. But anyhow, really busy, got to go, like Bronagh says, Moonbeam's not going to feed himself! Classic.

From Paula Bennett:

Really sorry, haven't heard anything back from More FM. Or The Edge. Or The Rock. None of them, actually.

From Nick Smith:

Hey there my old mate, did you get my messages? No biggie, just be good to catch up.

From Rt Hon Winston Peters:

With the greatest respect, ordinary New Zealanders are not going to be hoodwinked - hoodwinked - by some pipsqueak Johnny-Come-Lately prime minister who calls himself English. That's right. I am not at liberty to reveal everything I know, but I will say this, and you won't like it, you won't like it one bit: this goes all the way to the top, to the very top, that's right.

You're not going to wriggle your way out of this one, sunshine. We have sources, very good sources, proof, demonstrable proof, that Adele travelled to the stage, not just one night but on a number of nights, in a box. In. A. Box. That's right.

From Nick Smith:

Bill! Maybe your phone is playing up? I called because I woke up this morning and felt a fog had lifted, then I looked out the window and it was still there. As long as I'm stuck at the airport, have been sketching out some new aspirational ideas. "Full Employment 2044." "Affordable Lamingtons for All 2042." "Self-mowing grass 2045." I have more.

From Mike Hosking:

I suppose you're wondering what I'm doing writing to you. You're thinking: Why is Mike writing? What does he have on his mind? You're thinking: What can he tell me? What can I learn from this Kiwi battler? And it's simple. Couldn't be simpler, couldn't be clearer, couldn't be simpler.


Number one: cut taxes, chop them, slash them, with scissors, with nail-clippers, with one of those wire cheese cutter devices, doesn't matter what you use, just cut them, get rid of them. Who needs them? Nobody. What do they achieve? Nothing.

What message do they send? They send a message, Bill, and this is important, they send a message to ordinary New Zealanders, out there trying to get ahead, trying to make a buck, that we couldn't care less, couldn't care less about their lives, and at the same time we're drooling - drooling - over Nocky Hegar and his mates in Wellington who think a war is a picnic, when it obviously isn't a picnic.

Baskets. Sandwiches. Oysters. Chilled prosecco. These are the things, Bill, that you have at a picnic, and there are none of these things in Hoggard's conspiracy beat-up snooze-fest, I've looked in the index, nothing, nada, nothing. Happy days.

From Max Key:

Billy E, back on top, back on top. Real talk, beatch! You get me. We got work to do. Work to do with Billy E, back on top with Maxee Keey. That's what I'm talking about: the MaxKover. You know it. Love you deep, real deep, but omg we got a long way to go to get the Billy E fleek.

You need some social investment, uncle, and I am your social media expert guru, damn straight, right there. Let's snap the chats and insta the grams, get you vaping, get you rocking da bandana in da club you know it. Get your people to talk to my people (dad's still on the same number). #votekey2044 lmao

From Paula Bennett:

Yup, yup, so I get that. But I just think maybe they don't really go in for gravitas, you know what I mean? Maybe they just don't get your sense of humour?

From the Whanganui River:

Gidday Bill. How's tricks? Not sure if this is your department exactly, but there's a couple of things bugging me. First up, those boy racers hooning it up and down Papaiti Rd, all hours of the night, bloody disgrace, total racket and a real safety issue, too. At my age, it's a real din.

Then there's the freedom campers, up round Ranana especially - don't get me wrong, I'm all for tourists, but some of these people are just taking the piss. Anyway, maybe you could pass this on to the right people? Don't want to be a fuss, you know me, I just go with the flow, right, lol. My old pal Urewera gave me your email address, hope you don't mind. Nga mihi.

From Nick Smith:

Call me a dreamer, but: No Countries 2046? Nothing to Kill or Die For and No Religion Too 2048? A Brotherhood of Man 2050! The World Will Be as One 2052! Please call me.