Boris Hampton's Fifth of November

Today's Diary of a Wellington Insider makes a National Business Review subscription worth the money. I hope NBR will view my shilling for their subscriptions as sufficient compensation for my clipping of Thursday's entry.

Thursday 5 November

It seems apt to mark the first year of the government tonight, with some large bangs and a bunch of illegal, confiscated fireworks from Taiwan, supplied by a mate who works at the Environmental Risk Management Authority.

They are loud and dangerous and we let them off ourselves. Just like the old days.

We are not happy. It has been a bitter bitter year for us. We have watched everything we strove for in those years of Helen Mugabe betrayed and forgotten.

Nanny Rules, it appears. Its just Nanny now has a blokey grin and a cheerful quip instead of Helen’s dour authoritarianism.

It is the perfect protest. We let off the fireworks in the middle of a binge drinking session, during which we wash down huge handfuls of pseudoephedrine.

We then ceremoniously get into our Volvos and Lexuses and drive around Wellington, madly phoning and texting each other as we do so.

We then gather at Moa Point and have a minute’s silence in memory of the Unknown Tax Cut.

Someone has to do something. Someone has to make a stand.

Vi veri veniversum vivus vici...