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They say that Nobody Ever Expects the Spanish Inquisition, and that may well be so but surely by now our beloved Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern must be starting to realise that You Should ALWAYS Expect the Queenstown Inquisition!
Following on from our (jolly successful even if I do say so myself) Jacinda-tracking, when she slunk into town recently to ask the Aussies really nicely if they would forgive her and to please come and spend their money here, we had the extreme honour of hosting her in our region again.
Late Friday afternoon the rumours started circulating again. ‘Satan’ was going to be pulling weird faces and flapping her arms about, trying to gee up the downtrodden Labour Party lumpenproletariat (underclass proletariat who are trying to move up in the world to become standard proletariat).
You see, it seemed that the (no longer leaky) Arrowtown Primary School hall was to be the esteemed venue for the Labour Party’s region-six conference and, judging by the state of some of the bedraggled scruffs that turned up in their shorts and jandals, some of them aren’t going to be reaching the giddy heights of proletariatism for a while yet.
So cue the mobilisation of the Queenstown VFF group and we are ready to do battle. I don my scruffiest hoody so that I fit in and go for a sneaky look. A bit of a wander around the school at 9am and there is no one about. (Well I don’t know what I am expecting, as I don’t believe Labour voters get out of bed before 10am.) A quick peer through the windows reveals about a dozen tables scattered about the hall and one of those pull-up banners you can buy on Aliexpress for the price of an hour of minimum-wage work, up on the stage.
Confirmation is given that there will at least be many red-clad, low-IQ people soon wandering about, so off home quickly to ready my billboard-equipped ‘legitimate‘ CoonUte.
After hiding the ute in plain sight on a back street, I hook up with another brave VFF warrior in his flash new Ranger. A little checking of side streets was done and we ascertain the back entrance is covered by a bored-looking constable who faces the wrong way staring at her phone the whole time I am surveilling her, and a couple of other cops guarding the hall entrance and the driveway.
A plan is hatched. I cause a distraction by parking the ute right outside the entrance to the school driveway, where I am soon spotted by an eagle-eyed detective sergeant (who we had been hilariously trolling by moving my ute to different locations then hiding in the Ranger).
I wait a couple of minutes then hop out to chat with the driveway-guarding copper, who was another mate of mine. Let’s call him Constable Noon. As I walk toward him, I hear him on the phone to the detective sergeant, getting instructions to go and check out the deranged maniac with a picture of Comic Book Guy on his ute.
“It’s OK ConstaNoon, it’s just me,” I holler. “Oh it’s just ExPFC,“ he exclaims to the boss. “He’s harmless; I’ll have a chat.”
So a handshake and a warm chat ensue. I explain that we wish Her Lordship no harm, we simply want to stand quietly with some placards to point out to her that we feel she is not appropriately compos mentis enough to be Supreme Leader in charge of our great land.
ConstaNoon reveals we would have to stay out on the roadside, as the police had in fact been given authority to trespass any miscreants that they might wish to in order to protect the world’s most open and transparent leader. (What is it with Labour and trespass notices?)
A humorous discussion takes place where I am regaled with the exciting story of how ConstaNoon had actually gone face to face in an organised debate with Cindy when she was simply a pimply faced, junior member of the Communist Party. He was very proud to say that her team of commies was soundly beaten by his team of beer-swilling reprobates, a feat he will no doubt cherish well into dementia.
While we are chatting, the boss rings up again. “How did they know she was here?” he enquires.
“I was a cop, I know everything,” I cheekily respond. This is passed on, with some laughter to the bossman, but he is not satisfied.
So helpfully I add, “Surely you don’t think that anything That Woman does is a secret? They got the PTA mums to set the hall up for goodness sake. You don’t think that maybe there might be one of them who isn’t a Jacindaphile?” Then even more helpfully adding, “Oh, and we even had a narc at the quaint Arrowtown cafe she went to for a cup of tea before coming here don’t ya know.”
I bid my farewells to Constable Noon and head around the corner so we can stand quietly with our placards and meet up with the other boys. As we are deciding which placards will be most appropriate for this auspicious occasion, our transparent leader ghosts it out the driveway in the back of the Crown car. Bugger, we had been having too much fun and missed our opportunity. Oh well, there is nothing else for it but to head to my mate’s work (which just happens to be near the airport) to pick up a parcel that I urgently need.
Well who’d a thunk it, but I end up right behind the Esteemed General Secretary’s two-car convoy as she heads to the airport! (I know, fortune favours the brave sometimes, it seems.)
As we roll toward Queenstown, the road splits into two lanes as we come up to a roundabout. All the cars ahead of me choose the left lane, so I figure I might just go past them. As luck might have it, somehow I end up right next to Her Lordship’s car as we navigate the roundabout, and as I don’t want to scare her by zooming past, I just sit alongside her window, providing a little shade from my billboard. (It never hurts to help). I figure that if I go at an even pace, she might even have time to read what Comic Book Guy had to say.
So maybe the government driver missed a gear or something, as they pull back, driving very slowly. I figure that being such a Caring Understanding Nurturing Type, she must have told the driver to let me in ahead of her, so I move on. Of course I have to turn off shortly after this, so I indicate and slow up for what is a very tight turn. You can’t be too careful when you have a big billboard on the back of your ute you see. I wouldn’t want to tip over onto our Adored Princess.
I guess their driver was a recent graduate of a defensive driving course as he also slowed up a lot, which was more than could be said of the unmarked police car that had been tailgaiting her car since we left Arrowtown – he seemed really keen to get right up behind my ute. I think maybe the driver had received a bee sting or something as his car was weaving all over the place; it all seemed a bit frantic. I hope he is OK.
Anyway, I realise that the corner is approaching fast now so I slow up even more. I guess the Crown car driver felt it was OK to go past me now as he rolled slowly on through. Maybe he just wanted to give Her Esteemed Kindness a chance to read the other side of my billboard, as there are more words on that side (and a lovely picture of her). I realised I had over-slowed for the corner, so sped up a little, which accidentally had the effect of causing the flash Crown car to be right next to me for a little bit.
So off I go to pick up my parcel, then I receive word that some other chaps may have accidentally followed the cavalcade to the airport. A good thing they had their VFF signs with them as they felt like going for a short walk around the airport terminal. It was a shame that Princess Cindy was in such a hurry, though, apparently, she set a new record for the carpark to Koru lounge hustle (maybe she really needed to go wees or something?).
After a quick chat with some gun-toting coppers at the airport, the VFF boys decided to take their leave, but, upon realising the Queenstown airport has a lovely big chainlink fence around it that would be an ideal place to put up a couple of signs to show their love for Dear Leader, they wombled across the golf course to the edge of the airport.
Well it seems that no one has a sense of adventure anymore, or maybe the tower really were worried that the signs might blow off and get sucked into the engine of one of Air New Zealand’s finest flying tubes, but Constable Noon was soon despatched to have a chat.
A hilarious video of this exchange was obtained but I shall not be publishing it to protect the humorous buggers involved, but suffice to say, signs were removed from the fence and held tightly, to prevent accidental plane downing, and hopefully Her Goodness and Light (and plenty of her fellow passengers) were able to see them.
So home I head, happy with a good morning’s work, when up pops a video of a chap who just happened to be inside the Arrowtown School hall, well until he got kicked out by the golden-locked, buggy-eyed security matron and the previously mentioned Not so Humorous Copper. I haven’t yet received permission to post that video but suffice to say, it was pretty funny. “This isn’t a public meeting!” So not transparent then?
Anyway, by 4 pm our Illustrious Leader was back on a plane and gapping it home to her mansion. A three-hour slink in, skulk out mission. I so hope we didn’t spoil her big event.
Oh well, I guess at least that she will be starting to expect a reception party down here. I wonder if there is any chance she could just stay away now and leave us alone?
