I can read the polls, and I think I know what’s coming. But there is always hope, which is why I’m praying.
I’m praying that John Key will be filmed tonight walking out of a brothel, arm in arm with a transsexual named Rula, and with his pants around his ankles. Don’t get me wrong: I have no particular issue with what our politicians might get up to in their spare time, and if people want to engage in sexual liaisons with transsexual prostitutes, then I won’t be getting in their way. I just think it would go down incredibly badly with conservative voters.
I’m praying that the footage will make the TV news the night before the election.
I’m praying that the polls are wrong. That they’ve been fixed. That some sinister foreign billionaire has bribed or threatened the pollsters to understate Labour’s support by thirty per cent.
I’m praying that they decide to postpone the election for a few weeks, due to heavy overnight rain on the pitch. Because if the election happens as planned on the 20th I don’t like to think what might happen.
I’m praying that John Key will get fed up by all the demands being made of him, and will say to Patrick Gower or Corin Dann on camera “you know what? F**k you people and all your petty demands. I’m off to Hawaii. Tonight! Let Bill or Steven handle it. F**kers!”
I’m praying that Key will mutter something about black people, gays and bitches as he stomps off.
I’m also praying that those Jason Ede emails come out in the next 24 hours, and that John Key is shown as a mail recipient.
I’m praying that people wake up on election day and decide for no particular reason that they hate National, even though they liked National the day before. It might require someone to taint our water supply with mind-altering drugs for this to happen, which I’m not sure I would entirely approve of. Pity.
I’m praying that due to an incredible number of entirely innocent mistakes being made during the counting of the votes, Labour captures 45% of the party vote.
I’m praying that the skin suit our reptilian overlord is wearing comes apart during a live TV interview tonight, and that the real John Key is revealed for the entire world to see: a snarling, slobbering monster covered in scales. Such an event wouldn’t sink the Nats – people like Michelle Boag would support the party even if it announced plans to harvest the organs of the young. But a big reveal involving the shedding of skin would knock at least a couple of percentage points off National’s support.
I’m praying for a time machine to be invented in the next 24 hours. I would steal it, go back to 2010, sneak into the Department of Immigration’s offices, and put a big red “rejected” stamp on Kim Dotcom’s residency application. That would do it, because I reckon Kim Dotcom has done more to secure John Key’s re-election than any other person.
I’m praying that Jesus Christ descends from the heavens and anoints David Cunliffe as the Chosen One. It will have to be soon, though, oh Lord! Such an event would go down terribly with some of Labour’s minority groups, but the party would probably steal some of Colin Craig’s support away. On the other hand, I have no faith in religious leaders of any kind. Jesus Christ is just as likely to anoint Cameron Slater.
I’m praying, but I don’t believe in God. I’m praying that I change my mind on this important matter soon, because if there’s no hope of a miracle then we may as well admit we’re truly f**ked.
I’m praying real hard!
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