I think I died today. Or maybe yesterday; I can't be sure.

The results of the latest opinion polls were published today but word always gets out and a lot of people would already have known I only got five per cent as preferred Prime Minister.

Which leaves the matter doubtful; I could have died today, I could have died yesterday.


Strange to think that even death is uncertain. But that's politics. You can never anticipate how things are going to play out or whether reality matches perception although you would have to say right now that the perception I am dead is a pretty close match with reality.

Still, it won't hurt to send out a press release about the only remaining certainty in life: taxes.

Thank God for taxes. They're far too high, they're out and out theft, they're put to bad use, and right now they're my best hope of coming back from the dead.

Maybe I'm not dead. Maybe it's just be an existential crisis.

I ran into Paula today, and said to her, "Listen, can I ask you something? Am I dead or alive?"

She walked right past me like I wasn't there.

I see dead people.

I was in parliament today when I looked over at the public gallery and spotted a ghost.


The ghost of David Cunliffe. God knows what he was doing back here but it gave me the creeps.

I studied him from a distance. It was uncanny. He's taller than I am, his hair is red, he's older, he's as Pakeha as Captain Cook. But it was like looking in a mirror.

National has a new social media video which mocks Labour and is sure to boost my popularity with voters.

It's set at a barbecue. Two men – a patronising hipster, and some old guy who butts in without being asked - tell an attractive blonde that Labour's Kiwibuild policy is a flop.

Her face falls and she looks like she's either about to cry or die of shame and humiliation. Meanwhile the hipster takes a sip from his bottle, and smirks.

The whole party looks like the worst barbecue held anywhere in New Zealand this summer. You wouldn't know the country has been blessed with two months of golden weather, the sun beating down on golden sands, families jumping into the water and enjoying a golden summer. You'd think it was a nation of moaners and bores.

Yes, I really think it will bring me back from the dead.

I continue to appear to be dead.

Hold my beer! I'm back from the dead. Mike Hosking writes a column saying it's all good: "I am not the first person to have observed the political year has gotten off to a splendid start for the leader of the Opposition, notwithstanding the MediaWorks poll which (if it proves more than a rogue result) might dent proceedings slightly."

And Matthew Hooton writes a column saying that while it's not entirely all good it could be worse and I just need to hang in there: "There is no immediate push for change…Bridges' planned policy papers, starting with the environment, are meant to mark him as a serious and studious leader in contrast to Ardern's vacuousness on everything from China to child poverty."

I looked in the mirror. I didn't see David Cunliffe. I saw a serious and studious leader.

But then Hooton ruined it by concluding, "All eyes are on the next poll."

I looked in the mirror again. It was blank.