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Opinion: You can’t compare these entirely adequate TV shows to my perfect political party, and that should really be the end of it

By Gareth Morgan.

By Gareth Morgan.

I’ve just launched a perfect political party. Am I right or am I right? No, I’m right – perfect political party. Competing with a man with an entirely adequate breakfast show who supports a different political party and he’s decided to compete with another man with an entirely adequate breakfast show but who supports the same political party.

That’s perception, you might say. Well, it’s my perception. I could be wrong, but I’m not. I have wonderful ideas. Amazing ideas. I hope you’re all enjoying that useless sandy spit we bought, because I’m sure not.

“How do you know that Mike Hosking and Paul Henry don’t have perfect breakfast shows?” you ask. “You don’t listen to them.”

Okay, I’ll tell you why: because I don’t go on them.

If you’ve got a perfect breakfast show, I’ll be on it, because people want to listen to me, they want to listen to me on replay, and then they want to play me back to their kids when they get home, and their kids say “My gosh, Mum, that man has great ideas,” and she’ll say “Yes he does, son, now bring me the cat.”

But this is a subjective thing, isn’t it? My impression?

No, oh no, you might like a different breakfast show to me, right, but there’s breakfast shows you like, breakfast shows you don’t like, and then there’s perfect political parties. The breakfast shows you like might be different to the ones I like, but the perfect political parties are the same.

And what are they?

Well, you can take a look at one now, if you go to www.top.org.nz.

A lot of breakfast shows go for two and a half hours, which is roughly how long I expect my political party to last, but it doesn’t need to last any longer than that, because it’s perfect.

Mike goes till 8:30, I understand, because he simply isn’t good enough to do any more than that, and Paul goes till 9, because he needs that extra half hour to get it right. Me? I can affect change in half an hour. It just takes one great idea: four triangles, kill a cat, buy some sand. But I don’t blame them. It’s not easy having a perfect political party. I’m not saying they have bad breakfast shows. I don’t know. I don’t go on them.

They probably won’t hear anything I say about this, anyway, and if they did, 1) They’d be outraged, which is a feeling they love, and 2) Very fucking proud. Proud that their entirely adequate breakfast shows are being discussed by someone with a perfect political party.

Of course, I’m not talking about this because I chose to talk about it. I’m talking about it because four other opinion pieces have been written on this subject and I have a medically diagnosed brain tumour that causes me to involuntarily insert myself into everything.

And I say: good on me. Good on me, for shamelessly launching a political party on a Friday. Good on me, for refocusing politics away from the personalities, and towards Gareth Morgan. Good on me, for publishing a website that doesn’t even have a favicon. Good on me, for having my own elevator, and not making my employers foot the bill for one that leads directly to my studio so I don’t have to mingle in other parts of the building, which set a precedent forcing MediaWorks to build Paul Henry the same thing, which gave Hilary Barry and Jack Tame the courage to have theirs taken away, and where’s Graham Bell’s bloody elevator?

Good on me, for giving myself another go, and another go, and another go. Good on me, for spending all that money buying some useless stretch of land that no one will ever go to, much less enjoy. Good on me, for trying to get all the cats in this country killed so that people can have pet pukeko instead.

And good on you, New Zealand, for joining my perfect political party, so we can cut through the nonsense, and get to the real nitty gritty, like my rant about Graham Bell’s rant about Hilary Barry and Jack Tame’s rant about Paul Henry’s rant about Mike Hosking’s rant about Paul Henry’s rant about titties.

And I don’t mean breakfast shows.