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I’m not personally familiar with panic attacks; however, with Ardern returning from her slumber, I’ve had first-hand experience of the situations that trigger such events. After a six week absence of Ardern-inflicted torment, she’s back on our screens and the first thing she announces is, it’s “The year of the vaccine”.
Nothing beats a pointless cliché, delivered with such earnest integrity, and she manages it without shame nor a hint of embarrassment. For the last twenty years, I have organised my flu vaccine all by myself. I don’t know how I managed it quite frankly. But last year when I went to make arrangements to have my jab I was informed that they were waiting for stock to arrive as there had been supply and distribution issues: the first time ever. So clearly last year was not “The year of the vaccine”. Ardern must have forgotten to put it in her diary. Also, in her spare time, she claims she will fix the housing crisis, just like she managed to do during her first three years of bumbling, farcical neglect.
Why are we, as intelligent people, subjected to this unrelenting avalanche of cliché ridden diatribe from a woman who poses as our PM? And it’s only January! Lest she has forgotten, every single issue in the Labour Party’s 2017 Manifesto that she promised to address actually worsened under her ‘watch’. To make matters worse, her increased caucus just adds to the ever-increasing six-figure unemployment benefit paid to her menagerie of non-entities squatting in Parliament for the next three years.
Quite frankly I would gladly sanction her $500,000 salary if she promised to return to hibernation. There is little doubt in my mind that her biggest contribution to the mental health and well being of her “team of five million” was her six weeks absence from our lives. It wasn’t a bad summer until this week. To use a George Greganism, “three more years.”
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