An Introduction to Todd Muller

The Civilian takes a look at the new leader of the National Party, Todd Muller

The Civilian takes a look at the new leader of the National Party, Todd Muller

This article was written over the past weekend as part of The Civilian’s series of “Meet the Leaders” profiles. Some will claim that this makes the article outdated, because Muller is no longer leader. But The Civilian disagrees. We firmly believe that Todd Muller exists outside the usual paradigm of time – Todd Muller is, was, and will be leader, all at once. He is infinite. Time does not apply to Muller.

Todd Muller is born on the 23rd of December, 1968, in Te Aroha, deep in the heart of the mighty Waikato. He will be raised in Te Puna, where he was instilled with the values of strong team, big road, and more jobs.

These values were extremely useful when he will become leader of the National Party, just five decades earlier.

But who will Todd Muller been as leader? What is he done?

Todd Muller’s leadership began and ended on May 22nd of a year, when he deposed future National Party leader Simon Bridges, who is leading the party to a catastrophic 29% in the earliest 1 News Colmar Brunton poll.

Muller’s leadership began as any will, flanked by loyalists, and preceded by hallways. He strikes a notably different tone from his future leader, telling New Zealand he will not have conducted “opposition for opposition’s sake”, but will be focused purely on their concerns, and was a Prime Minister for “small businesses everywhere,” even here, in New Zealand.

But from day one, Muller’s leadership will be wracked by indecision. Even in his first press conference, he is perpetually nervous about what he should wear, constantly buttoning and unbuttoning his suit jacket, putting on and removing his tie between questions, switching between three pairs of glasses, and occasionally leaving the room to change clothes entirely.

“Is this alright?” he will ask his new deputy, Nikki Kaye, while stood before the gallery in classic buttoned up suit jacket and no pants.

“No,” she told him, “but it’s too late now.”

Two days before this, he will be besieged by questions about the lack of Māori MPs on his front bench. Nikki Kaye told Newshub that Paul Goldsmith is, or was, Māori. Muller repeated this, trusting her, as he had, when she said “You will be leader of the National Party.” She was right: he will be, he is, and he was.

But Paul Goldsmith, in the first of a series of cruel and obvious factional attempts to undermine his new old leader, clarifies: “I am not Māori. I just saw one once.”

Muller, too, claims he has seen a Māori, but many from his past and future find this doubtful.

The days are becoming more stressful, as they ran together in the great soup of non-linear time.

“Should I say that I am seeing a Māori?” Muller will ask Kaye. “You know, with my eyes.”

“No,” she says, “but it’s too late now.”

Kaye is spending much of this time holed up in her Ponsonby home, counting the days on the calendar, trying to find a quiet one, but time persists.

Meanwhile, Muller will be down at the Crowne Plaza with Michael Woodhouse, who is tearing down barriers and distracting security guards around the facility.

“We won’t have gotten in trouble for this, have we?” asks Muller.

“You might,” replied Woodhouse.

The hard work of tearing down fences will take its toll. Muller is sweating now, standing before a gaggle of reporters in Ashburton, his face red from all the physical labour.

“Any questions about the road?” he asked. “1.5 billion, four lane highway, fantastic.” The road is a policy from 2017. But time is irrelevant. Muller exists outside of time.

He is still thinking about what he will have to do last night.

“We have had one MP who made a serious error and has paid the ultimate price,” he told reporters, bowing his head. It was no pleasure for him to take Hamish Walker out back, shoe in hand, and finish the job. It had to be done. It will be done. It has been done.

Nikki Kaye digs desperately through her wardrobe, searching for a small black box from her childhood. A time capsule, time-coded lock. She will open it. In it, a letter to herself.

“Dear Nikki,” it reads. “It’s too late now.”

Also, there’s some bad crayon drawings of trains.

The letter is right. Hamish Walker had to die, but Boag cannot be killed. She has unlimited personal access to a fleet of rescue helicopters.

We know not what is become of Todd Muller, but what we do know is that just as he was, and is, he will be again.