John Key woke with a start.
It was question time in parliament and somebody was talking about Kim. It took him a moment to realise that it was not Korean Kim the Despot but the Dotcom Kim. He downloaded that thought while searching his memory.
He was not sure whether he had already heard about this man before the recent fuss about spies. Apparently, some poor individual had suffered a brain fade, ordering illegal surveillance of a man facing potential extradition to the US on internet piracy charges.
John Key was sure it was somebody's fault and began to worry that it might be his. "Is brain fade a clinical condition that can only be diagnosed in the lower bureaucratic life forms or can it be caught via ministerial oversight?" he wondered. If so, how could he inoculate himself against its effects? He could pretend that he did know something but could not say what he knew as he had then been told by his spies that if they knew that he knew then they would have to kill him. He was not sure whether he knew if they were joking around or not.
If he could not trust his own spies who could he trust? Spies are very secretive about matters of trust. He suddenly had an overwhelming sense of foreboding and doom. He pondered the mystery of sudden onset forgetfulness. Then he brightened. He recalled that he was the Minister of Very Secret Stuff and that he probably did know about Dotcom's residency status and plans to bug his house but had probably been zapped with some kind of ray thingy that made him forget everything as he left the secret briefing session at their secret headquarters at 72 Clandestine Street.
He became absolutely, positively gleeful as he realise this would also explain the sudden loss of basic literacy skills that was preventing him from reading the police report on John Banks. He felt much better.
Suddenly, he was standing on a sunny Californian boulevard, blinking in the bright lights of Hollywood. He was being presented with an award. Best Prime Minister in a supporting role in a satirical farce! He beamed and offered immediate tax breaks to movie moguls. Here he was at the centre of the world of make-believe and he was being lauded and applauded with offers of a walk-on part in a reality programme called Political Survivors. Oh the glory and acclaim. Where were the media at moments like this - probably back in NZ filming Kim Dotcom making another hip hop record. Where's da respect!
Suddenly a space the size of a newspaper headline opened up before him and he felt himself being sucked into a vortex of scandal and calls for his resignation. He looked around and realised that he was back in the House facing question time. He tried smiling but could only manage a wane half-hearted cheesy grin.
Had it all been a dream he wondered. Yes that was it. John Key stood and looked directly at the speaker and said: "I had a dream."
Terry Sarten is a writer, musician, social worker and spookologist.
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