This newsletter has not had much good to say about Christopher Luxon, because it really seemed there was very little to mention.
Wherever he went and whatever empty meaningless jargon he uttered, there seemed to be hardly any substance to the man at all: no flair; no charisma, no spark, no delightful whimsy even, unless you count Instagram memes where you can see the cue cards turning, driven by no force outside of self-regard and venal ambition; an absolute butter chicken of a man.
But if you wait long enough, even something that walks like an ugly duckling and talks like an ugly duckling and soils the floor wherever it goes can turn out to have a bit of swan in there after all, and one has to admit one was mistaken.
