David Hick

Election done and dusted on Saturday. The promises made, the hands shaken, the babies kissed and the roadside billboards hopefully destined for recycling.

Come Monday, 131 MPs turning up at Molesworth Street, Wellington. IRD numbers checked, bank accounts ready, and a fair bit of jostling as everyone scrambles to get aboard the good ship Parliament.

All aboard the gravy train.

Funny thing is, only a few weeks ago we were being told:

“We need to save money.”

“Government spending is out of control.”

“We can’t keep throwing money at everything.”

“Vote for me. Trust me… I’m a politician.”

And we did.

Now, what about us? Where’s my $5,000 cheque? (Sorry, wrong country.)

So, for the next couple of weeks, we’ll sit back and enjoy a little peace and quiet while the new lot sort out who gets which office, who gets which ministerial portfolio, and who gets to sit closest to the “all you can eat buffet”.

Then the real entertainment begins.

Will we see a KiwiMart? Or was that just another election special?

Will the fishies finally get to see the bottom of the ocean again?

Will the lawyers and tax blokes have to start finding a whole new set of loopholes?

Will the kids get their strawberry desserts back in their school lunches? And will anyone remember what happened to the lunches that were there before?

Will the potholes disappear? Will the ferries sail? Will the roads get fixed? And will local councils suddenly discover that money doesn’t actually grow on ratepayers’ trees?

Of course, there’ll be coalition agreements, carefully worded press releases, solemn handshakes and the inevitable announcement that everyone has achieved a wonderful result for New Zealand.

Even those who didn’t get quite what they wanted.

And somewhere along the way, someone will announce that the new Government has inherited a financial mess from the previous Government. The previous Government, naturally, will point out that it was actually the Government before them.

It’s a bit like musical chairs, except the music stops, the chairs get more expensive, and we’re the ones paying for them.

Still, we shouldn’t be too hard on the new arrivals. They’ve got a big job ahead of them. A few promises to honour, a few policies to resurrect, a few to quietly bury, and an awful lot of explaining to do.

Perhaps we should give them the traditional 100 days before we start complaining.

Although, judging by the speed at which some election promises disappear, 100 days might be a little optimistic.

In the meantime, I suggest we all sit back, put the kettle on and enjoy the show.

After all, we’ve done our bit. We’ve voted.

Now it’s their turn to deliver.

And if they happen to find that $5,000 cheque along the way, I’ll happily take mine in the post.