Yesterday, as this rough beast of a coalition began its slouch towards Wellington, the talk turned to who would be deputy. Would it be Winston? Would it be David? Would it be Nicola?
Oh, it was never going to be Nicola, said the imminent prime minister, not when there is the convention of giving deputy to the coalition partner.
I thought to myself, Er, what convention is that buddy?
I also thought: David, Winston, Nicola, potato, potāto. His real deputy will always be Jesus.
