Another election, another leaders' debate. I can't say I've turned on the set with any real excitement since 1984. I love you, Mr Lange, Muldoon said, perhaps sarcastically, perhaps operatically. He sang his song and not long after that it was all over. Enthralling stuff.
The thrall petered out for me a long time ago. Now I watch out of a sense of duty, braced for gimmickry and show ponies, Hosking and Gower and dancing bears.
What a pleasant surprise then to see Jack Tame come on with nothing to prove, letting his capable, informed work speak for itself and letting the light shine upon the Stations of the Chris.
I liked the wall. I liked how helpfully it set out the numbers and rankings and proportions, the better to give the bullshit and exaggeration some real-world context.
I liked how clearly Chris Hipkins kept making his case, altogether better than last campaign.
I was not let down by my low expectations of the other guy.
Does he have solar panels? No, they're thinking about it. What's to think about? Waiting for another rebate like the one you got on your Tesla, Mr Sorted? Seven properties and no solar panels. His idea of exciting investment is snow-making machinery. It doesn't occur to him to wonder why they need to be making snow.
