It consisted of two kauri doors complete with brass fittings. Collins, who holds the corner office on the border, took a photo and tweeted in horror that Labour had demanded the installation of the doors at a $50,000 cost to the taxpayer (a figure later revised to $30,000).
This is what we call "not a good look" for a party that repeatedly accuses National of wasting money on projects such as the flag which would be better used to solve child poverty. $30,000 would buy 7500 boxes of Weet-Bix.
It could even be a deposit on a house in what were formerly known as the slums of Auckland but are now known as affordable housing areas. On the very same day the door scandal broke, Cunliffe, one of the inhabitants of the second floor, was slamming the Ministry of Business, Innovation and Employment for spending $43,490 on a sign.
Little wonder Labour's Chris Hipkins blamed National for the door, saying it was suggested by National's Gerry Brownlee as part of the agreement to share corridors after the election. That was true, but Collins abruptly called checkmate.
There was an email from National whip Tim Macindoe in January about the so-called "separation door". It noted National MPs were unanimous in the view the door was not required. Macindoe was to report back to the Parliamentary Service "requesting that the status quo be maintained while reserving the option to look at the matter again at some future date should problems be reported". The ball was back in Labour's court.
There is no shortage of doors in Parliament House and they are not for the faint-hearted. They are heavy and some are malicious, slamming back into you without provocation. Anyone wanting a weights exercise need only do a circuit of any of the floors.
The new doors will also require swipe-card access so that when one side tries to breach the defences, a loud "do do doooooo" will warn of barbarians at the gate. Quite why anyone would want even more doors is a mystery.
It may well seem like much ado about nothing. But beneath it lies suspicion and rumour of subterfuge of the highest order. The latest is that Labour had indeed asked for the door plan to go ahead because certain National MPs were suspected of lurking with intent. Trust is in shorter supply in Parliament than money for doors. By and large, the MPs on the second floor are unlikely to be repositories of great secrets. The highest-ranking Labour MPs and critical staff are on the floor above.
The unstated disadvantage the door has for National is to deprive it of an alarm system. Collins is in the corner office, the nicest of the lot with bright, airy windows and afternoon sun. It has the unfortunate nickname of the Departure Lounge because it is often used to house former leaders in between being rolled (or standing down) and exiting Parliament. Its inhabitants have included Helen Clark and Jenny Shipley.
There are those who suspect National of deliberately giving Collins that office to ensure she was in full view of the Labour MPs. Should there be any suspicious activity such as troops of subversive backbench MPs scurrying in and out, National's hierarchy could rest easy in the knowledge Labour would swiftly bay the news to the world like a loyal German shepherd.
Alas, the doors may well mute the footfall of plotting backbenchers as well as forcing National MPs to walk further to the loo and Labour MPs to trek upstairs for a kitchen. But MPs on both sides of the door will at least get the chance to brush up on "knock knock" jokes.
