The Not So Secret Diary of Handsome Sampson

So, Auckland’s least kept secret is out.
I am not standing for re-election.
Or as Bevan would have said it jocularly in those long ago fun fun days I am not “standing” for re-erection. Oh, those days (and nights) were wonderful. Even these days (and nights) I lie in bed, alone, clawing back every golden moment—the touch, the feel, the silk, the whip(s)—He He.
Will those moments come again?
Will I?
As for Suckland? You can suck yourself. I am not bitter. But as a city, you do not know what you are losing. And you know why you don’t know? Let me tell you—you do not know what you are losing because you are so used to losing that you don’t recognise it anymore. You don’t know a loser when you see one. I knew that as soon as you elected me.
Now you have lost me.
Suck on that.
(Why does she keep coming back to me?)
And what are you going to get to replace me? Goff? Banks?
Don’t make me laugh. Neither of them is twice the man I am. Neither of them will even begin to leave the legacy I have left Suckland. I will go down (oh God, not again) as the greatest mayor this city has ever had. Or ever will have. It was me! It was me who gave the councillors their new chambers and toilets, it was me who gave council staff their new building, it was me who gave every Sucklander the right to look after their berms, it was me who enabled every Sucklander paying rates the chance to contribute more to their city.
Their city.
Not mine.
I cannot be part of a city that has no gratitude.
Will I miss anything?
No.
Will you miss anything?
Yes.
Everything.
Did you see my speech welcoming the All Blacks back after their World Cup win? How jocular was I? All that rousing magic I delivered. And did you see me give the “key” to Richie, joking that there was no actual key? You don’t find that kind of humour everyday. No wonder people often call me a joke.
So, I am going. Gone.
I would have won again, you know that don’t you?
The people love me.
The people love me.
The people love me.
“Len, you are the MAN!”
How often I think that—lying in bed clawing back every golden moment—alone.