Dressed to Kill

Have you seen Helen Clark lately? Nobody else has either. The face that once launched a thousand shits among the National Party and its supporters has been mysteriously absent these days. When she does pop up it is in a much muted fashion indeed, without fire, ideas, or venom. The other half of the erstwhile dynamic duo, Dr Michael Cullen, is also absent without leave. In fact, he has become the Paul Holmes of politics: yesterday’s man and largely irrelevant.

Why the change? Can it be put down entirely to John Key and his emergence as a credible alternative? Many may think so. I do not. I believe it is that Fryday is finally having an effect. After successfully reshaping Hamilton and sending Christchurch into hiding. After earning George W. Bush an admonishment from God. And after years of unremitting due diligence on our present Prime Minister and her alternate, Fryday has successfully brought the Clark of the House to her knees, though I hasten to add in no unseemly way.

Was it the “Dear Michelle” letters to her therapist that did it? Again, many may think so. Again, I do not. Hardman and I know it was Fryday’s attacks on Clark’s fashion sense that drove her to ground. They were unrelenting, unremitting and entirely justified. She once dressed, as we remember from a very famous photo and a subsequent Fryday, like an aluminium can. There were other horrors, and the more she wore them and the more Fryday commented on them, the more Fryday wore her down. The woman who was never into fashion went out of fashion. Fryday killed her political career.

Sad, really: not for the country but for Clark. And for Fryday. Fryday is running out of targets.

Still, there are local body elections this year.

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