Chapter Four of the Beehive Bit** memoirs
CHAPTER FOUR
Alix looks white. - Should we call the emergency services?
Hold on. One of the burly ones is crouching over the side of the raft scouring under the water.
- Why hasn't he surfaced yet?
I've got 111 on the dial pad, finger hovering over the call button. The photographer's put down his camera, scanning the water. The burly ones are churning the water with the paddles to stop the raft flowing down stream. Where the fuck is he?
- There he is! Alix has jumped out the Land Rover and is bolting towards the edge of the bank, arms waving wildly at the burly ones.
Nobby has surfaced on the other side of the river, downstream from the raft. He's half out his lifejacket, bobbing up and down in the rapids. Muscles pumping to work, the burly ones flex and are upon him within seconds. He's like a fat slippery eel as they flump him into the raft. He must be breathing; that was his own arms moving, right? The raft's moving so fast they're soon out of sight round a bend.
- Should we call an ambulance? Do you think he's alright? Alix is still white.
We're all teetering on the edge of the water but it's the photographer who's calm, like he sees pricks from the city come out and fuck this shit up all the time.
- They'll have to carry on down the river till they make the first exit point. If they need an ambulance they'll call one and we'll hear it come down the road. Other than that, we're just waiting for their van to bring them back round.
This guy is ice. A fucking incredible mix of stoic and bored with the entire world. I wonder if the Party President would let me bring him to Wellington for the general election. Between Alix's sarcasm and his disinterest we could kill the prima donna in each of the candidates.
Alix tries to look stoic but I see her nervously keeping an eye on the road out the corner of her eye. Fucking kākā screeching out of the forest makes her jump.
Not long till a vehicle is heard but it's coming from down the river not the main road.
- That'll be the van, says the ice photographer. Maybe just a bit disappointed there isn't a bigger story emerging.
Once the van pulls in, it takes the burly ones a fair bit of coaxing to get Nobby out. He's got one of those useless tinfoil emergency blankets draped over his shoulders and vomit down the front of his wetsuit. For some god forsaken reason he's still got the paddle tightly in his grasp.
- Fuck, he looks awful. Alix is frozen.
The photographer is discreet enough to pack up his camera and head to his own car.
We're going to need to get that vomit off you Nobby. Can you dunk in the water and rinse it off? Nobby looks at the river and shakes his head so vehemently I’m smart enough not to push it. What a fucking mess. Alix, fill that bucket over there with water from the river and slosh it over Norbert until he's clean. Don't give me that look girl. This is NOT the most humiliating thing you are going to have to do on the campaign trail.
The burly ones give him some supportive slaps on the back, awkwardly waiting for Nobby to give them their wetsuit back so they can get going.
Get in the Land Ranger Nobby. We'll drop you home and you can have a nice cup of tea, a lie down and a think about what the fuck you were doing tipping yourself out the raft.
- I thought we were going to speak to the journalist.
Fuck that for a game of soldiers. You've still got vomit buried somewhere in that hair of yours. Alix and I will give him the lines he needs. You take the time you need to get some of your masculinity back.
WHAT a fucking morning. I should be asking the waitress to put whisky in our coffees. But the journo's asked for a short black and you can't fit any whisky in there.
The journo looked absolutely suspicious when Alix sat down next to me in the cafe.
- I thought this was going to be a frank conversation on background?
Don't worry, Alix is absolutely in the cone of silence. She's my... Oh fuck it, might as well let the word leave my lips... protege. She can hear the tea. She's learning the ropes.
- I see. Sipping his miniscule cup like he might be about to walk. This is just for show because I know that you know I am Dr Rebecca Howard and I am access to the inside of the Beehive that a provincial hack like you pulls one off to in the shitty shower block in your dilapidated newspaper shack. So I set the TERMS. The article is going to have a minimum of five positive points of coverage. TWO on his upbringing. Everyman stuff. ONE on his military service. Which WOULD have been longer if he hadn't had the knee injury. And TWO on recent community service: coaching the rugby team, volunteering at the emergency response centre during the floods. In exchange I am giving you ONE lead on one of the coalition partner's ministers and ONE internal document from Labour.
- For a truly positive appraisal that will give Norbert Holt the acclaim he deserves, I think you can give me a bit more than that. He sip sip sips on his fucking miniscule cup.
He knows this is going to be a yes because he's already talked to the photographer and knows that we are absolutely fucked by Nobby's inability to adult his way through anything. But Alix is here and I am the BOSS. I'll give you ONE internal document and email chain from one of the coalition partner’s ministers ONCE I have seen final copy and am satisfied the piece does justice to Norbert's exceptional skills and strengths.
- Agreed, let me just get my pen and paper.
Don't think I don't fucking know that you’ve had your phone recording the whole time and once we're done the file is going to a Chinese worker stuck in a windowless basement for transcription which also means writing half the copy to go under your grandiose by-line.
Two short blacks later and I think even Alix is starting to come round to the possibility that Nobby has the background to be an actual grown-up candidate. The journo emphatically places his fancy biro back in his man bag.
- Looks like it could shape up to be an interesting two horse race.
You're writing the Greens off so quickly? Don't you think their candidate will have some interesting ecogenocidalMarxistveganism to rile up the public at the debates?
- My sources say they aren't running a candidate.
Fuck.
ALIX, you look like one of them. We'll get you a flight back here next Tue and you can go to their branch meeting and make a fuss. She looks at me like she wants to cut me. But then she laughs real hard and says - I’ll bring my doc martins when I come back.
In Wellington Mr President is breaking my ovaries sniffling around trying to eke out more about Project Tui.
- Great piece in the Hawkes Bay Rebecca. Are you putting together up a follow up to tease Tui?
Fuck off Mr President. It's top secret till after the by-election. Even Alix still thinks we're working on an early contender for bird of the year. Go prepare for one of your $20k a pop board meetings. Best dressed bitch and the rest of them are getting sick of him hanging around the office asking for reports and telling the office manager to order more business cards. This is the problem with campaign time. All the political hacksters without a strategic bone in their body smell the pheromones dancing off the elevated testosterone when you put into play a competition in which there is only one winner and incredible humiliation for the losers. They wet dream themselves into the shoes of the winner thinking that because it's the only high-level competition that doesn't need an iota of athletics prowess they could take it themselves. For small fry items like by-elections it's the worst; they think they can have a consequential impact with none of the fear that comes with knowing they could fuck up something of actual importance.
Fuck off Mr President. I've got important phone calls to make behind the closed door of my office. By which I mean I'm going to scroll the socials until Alix reports back from the Greens meeting.
By 10pm I'm wondering what the fucks she's up to. How many raw tofu sliders and vegan beers can they guzzle down. This better be a long branch meeting because they're both selecting the candidate and working out the advertising spend and not because they're trying to reach consensus on whether the threat cats pose to native birdlife would justify slaughtering the local neighbourhood pets.
Finally, the phone buzzes. It's a fucking video call. Why the fuck do I need to see your face Alix? Switch it to audio.
- No go Rebecca.
Fuck.
- Only three people showed up to the meeting. It was in a community centre behind a bunch of boarded up shops and so we waited half an hour in case people couldn’t find it. Then when nobody else showed they realised they were one short of quorum. So we all had to get into this old guy’s camper van and drive to the house of another member so there were five of us.
Fuck’s sake.
- It took ages to get the tea on then they had to get through some other items first. I asked about the by-election and they said it wasn’t worth it. They’re going to endorse the Labour candidate. They did say they received the donation but they are going to spend it on banners and gazebos for a protest they are organising.
Fucking course they are.
- There was some other business after that. It took me ages to get away. I think they’ve made me the branch membership secretary.
Jesus wept. Get yourself back to Wellington. And have a hot shower with one of those disinfectant treatments.
I phone Nobby. No answer.
I phone Nobby again. No answer. Don’t make me find out if you are the kind of dinosaur that that still has a landline.
Third time ringing and the fucking wifey picks up. Can you be trusted to pass on the message that Nobby needs to stay indoors and keep his head below the digital parapet for the next couple of weeks before the debates start? The advertising will do the leg work and we just need him to not fuck anything up.
- Don’t you want to know how he is after his near-death experience?
What the fuck has he been up to now?
- In the river. The doctor said a few more seconds underwater and it would have been unthinkable.
Well, whose fucking fault is that?
- Rebecca, I think that if this is the cavalier…
HANGING UP BITCH.
ALIX can sense that I’m in a stinker of a mood over the next couple of weeks and she’s smart enough to stay well clear. A two limping mare race is very not what my strategy was based on.
Of course the president is hanging around the office like an undernourished leech when the polling on Nobby comes in.
I need this shit printed and he's harassing Best-dressed bitch with tales of the 1996 Bordeaux he purchased at the weekend. She's classy not old you geriatric weasel.
Skim on my phone.
Fuck.
- Not good? Alix is still figuring out when to be supportive and when to stay the fuck away.
We need to get on flights to Napier asap. I also need the president away from the printer. I need paper coming out of that machine and with us to the airport. Now.
- I don't mind reading it on my phone. I'll download it for the plane.
You fucking generation tech bro autopilot snowflakes.
Go start crying in the kitchen; he'll leave the building or barricade himself in his office. I am not kidding. Get over there and start sobbing.
Why the fuck can't I print this in colour. Coffee Underling, sort this shit out. Best-dressed bitch, I need YOU to call ME a taxi to the airport. I can't use my phone because I am calling Nobby with the plan. But why the fuck when he picks up does it sound like he's anticipating it's his dominatrix about to rescind the spanking privileges.
Nobby, we are on our way to you. It is pivot time. I'm going to get a meeting room sorted at my hotel.
- What time?
8pm. I'm bringing Alix, and some of the best and brightest of Napier, and whatever non-sycophantic contribution you can make.
- Tonight?
Twenty hundred hours you military pusswad.
- Caroline is hosting tonight. She's got fifteen people arriving.
Even better, she can't tag along with her shitty made-up campaign ideas and faux concern for your enfeebled state.
- She's expecting me to be here. I can't let her down.
You've been letting her down ever since you prematurely ejaculated on your wedding night and then threw up over the side of the bed into her shoes. Don't think I don't have DEEP sources. At 8pm I am going to be taking you through these polling results and you are going to be listening.