Rich pricks? No, that's not us, says Act's Boscawen

Act's parliamentary leader John Boscawen in his Bowen House office, Wellington. Photo / Mark Mitchell

John Boscawen wants to revitalise the Act Party's image so it's not seen as a party for the "rich pricks".

Following the Don Brash coup that ousted Act leader Rodney Hide, Mr Boscawen said the party needed to address a public-image problem it had failed to counter in 15 years.

Act's new parliamentary leader, a self-made millionaire, told the Weekend Herald: "The public perception is, in the words of Michael Cullen, that we're here for the 'rich pricks'.

"That's never been the case, but we've failed to counter that perception over the last 15 years in Parliament. The 'rich pricks' can look after themselves."

Dr Cullen once notoriously called John Key a "rich prick", though it's a term Mr Boscawen's colleagues would never associate him with.

Known for tireless determination in pursuit of an issue, Mr Boscawen, 54, isn't known for his lighter side.

There's a glimpse of it as he's photographed, when he says he "needs to breathe in, otherwise you'll see my fat stomach", before erupting into laughter that makes his face glow as his body hiccups, struggling to take in air.

It's there again as he's reminded of his most enduring image - replayed endlessly in the media - speaking to Unitec students in 2009 with a chocolate lamington on his head.

The episode hasn't turned him off lamingtons. "And the ones with cream in them are even better."

Mr Boscawen was so concerned about wasting his speaking time that he didn't even try to remove the cake.

"I wasn't going to let anyone stop me. I only found out afterwards what it was."

That's the figure Parliament is more familiar with; the relentless campaigner who fought Labour's Electoral Finance Act before last election, using $300,000 of his own fortune, or the persistent questioner in the House attacking the Emissions Trading Scheme.

His impressive recall of detail and his uncanny ability to talk uninterrupted and at length has led to whispers of Asperger syndrome, characteristics of which include, according to Wikipedia, "intense preoccupation with a narrow subject [and] one-sided verbosity".

The suggestion surprises him.

"It's the first time that's ever been suggested to me. People see me as being serious. I'm determined. If that means giving up the privilege of being a minister because you think it's the right thing to do, you do it."

Mr Boscawen gave up his ministerial portfolios this week, even though Dr Brash supported his keeping them.

"I thought I could do a better job as deputy leader and parliamentary leader if I wasn't a minister. However, all my ministerial staff lost their jobs, and that's been very hard."

Mr Boscawen has always been an entrepreneur. As a kid, he biked around Papatoetoe and Otara collect-ing beer bottles worth 15c a dozen.

When he was 19, he built a mini-golf course in Mt Maunganui and ran his own lawn-mowing business while he studied at Auckland University.

He worked as an accountant and invested heavily in the stockmarket, losing everything in the 1987 crash.

For five years he fought off bankruptcy, working for a property developer and living day to day.

"It's not very nice having a bailiff knock on your door and serve you a summons for a mortgagee sale of your home."

In 1993, he convinced investors to lend him the money for the K-mart shopping centre in Hastings, which set him up for life.

Within a few years he was a millionaire, bought a home with a view on Orakei's Paritai Drive and travelled the world.

Freedom to travel is one of the casualties of becoming an MP, as is time with his partner, Jane. Nor is politics very good for his gut, he says. His new position seems to have made him more image-conscious.

"I notice the Prime Minister is very good at going to the gym and staying trim, and now I'm the parliamentary leader, I have more profile, so I will need to make an even bigger effort."

No more lamingtons, then.