Another day, another National bequeathed nightmare. And yet more fixation on the unbearable incompetence of Nicola Willis. I know I know blaming a single person for the ruinous policies of an entire party is a bias, and in this particular instance borderline misogyny. But at this point we’re kinda not feeling beholden to considering the feelings of our shit-brained self-interested bloated-bellied government because they’re LITERALLY forcing everyone in this country to be complicit in an effing genocide. To take her mind off the profound national shame of our ELECTED leaders allying us with this century’s Nazis, Johanna goes to the ballet. Dracula to be precise. And finds herself surrounded by a frankly unreadable crowd. Who would’ve thought that Dracula the ballet would pull both borderline steampunk cosplayers, and cat eared femboys? A hybrid audience to say the least. But then I guess suffering at the hands of a nocturnal parasitic aristocrat is extremely relatable in our age of melanin deficient tech moguls. And once more, we turn to Nicola Willis and the mysterious case of the emperor’s new boats. Sam is horrified to realise the full extent of Willis’s suicidal approach to the NZ economy (if there is such a thing; pure theology). For example he didn’t realise a bargain deal on boats had already been secured, which Willis then scrapped, only for another more expensive deal to be struck when she realised that actually, it’s kinda important. Because the South Island is like, a real place. It definitely exists. People definitely live there. It’s definitely still quote unquote New Zealand. Also; Charlotte Gainsbourg’s sentient and detachable clitoris.
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