Words of wisdom from eighty-year-old toilet attendant and political commentator, Ken Bottie.

It’s been a week of revelations. 

New Nat’s leader young Todd Muller revealed quite the yellow streak over his ownership of a MAGA hat. According to the geniuses in the Green party, it’s a racist hat. Can a hat be racist? I guess there are a few that qualify. A Ku Klux Klan hood. A Waffen SS helmet. Whatever Hone ‘I wouldn’t let my daughter date a Pakeha’ Harawira shields his generous melon with. But a MAGA hat? It has ‘Make America Great Again’ emblazoned on it, not ‘White Power’ or ‘Slavery Was Working Great Till That Bastard Lincoln Showed Up’. 

Young Muller displayed the impeccable good judgement of the recent National party in folding like a pack of cards when faced with this nonsense critique of his taste in political memorabilia. Hell’s teeth, even yours truly put up a bit of a fight when the wife tried to throw out his favourite lime green cardy. And the entire media establishment and parliamentary opposition parties ain’t got nothing on Rita when her blood’s up. 

Muller continued his cowardly descent when some media mischief makers pointed out that the top ranked National MPs were Tangata Whenua free. Rather than making a principled stand for meritocratic promotion, Muller Neville Chamberlained it completely and sent out the order to locate a Maori ancestor, any Maori ancestor from within his twelve apostles.

The product of which was the second major revelation of the week.

Paul Goldsmith had a very randy great-great grandfather.

In a classic example of the humble brag, Mr Goldsmith explained that while he was not Maori his great-great grandfather certainly liked to worry the native women folk.

I’m sure my great-great grandfather got plenty of lady action too but I’m not telling the world about it.

And these people want to be the next government?

But I do get what’s got the Nats worried. 

My own profession has its struggles with diversity. To put it bluntly the toilet attendance industry is dominated by brown faces. I have been marginalized, perhaps even as Ms Collins said ‘demonized’, for the lack of melanin in my skin.

I’m never invited to the after work kava drinking on Fridays. Ditto the annual brawl after Tonga plays Samoa in rugby.

I’ve tried to rectify this sad ethnic imbalance among toilet cleaners by writing to the Ministry of Education with a suggestion. I’ve offered my services as a recruiter. I’d give school talks at some of the posher, whiter establishments – your King’s Colleges and your Auckland Grammars – and regale the little Lord Fauntleroys with saucy tales from my sixty years in the toilet attendance industry. I’d use the PowerPoint and everything.

I still await their reply.

You can follow Ken on Twitter @BottieKen

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