Some political commentators never tell the truth. Mike Hoskin and Heather du Plessis-Allan are New Zealand’s best examples of dishonesty, lies and fake news. No one should be conned into believing the bile they spread across the country.

From the minute they turn on their microphones to the minute they are thankfully silenced for the day, Jacinda’s sins are debated ad nauseam.

Most of you will have seen those tankers farmers drive around their fields, spraying cow poo, hundreds of feet in the air. I’m sure it’s great for the grass. But for human beings caught downwind on a stormy day, it is just a shower of shit. I’ve misjudged the spread on two occasions. Both times Alison asked, “What’s that smell? Have you been listening to News Talk ZB again?”

Of course, the election of a new National Party leader has caused an effusive Hoskin and du Plessis-Allan celebration. There is clearly no need for New Zealand to have a general election next year. The endorsement of 33 National MPs at last week’s caucus meeting is all the democracy Hoskin and du Plessis-Allan think we need.

Didn’t we see the anointed one, Luxon, drive 150 metres from his apartment to parliament, the day after his ascension? What more evidence do we need? Wasn’t the picture of pensioners on electric mobility scooters spreading palms in the path of the black Mercedes enough? Jacinda may have been born in a manger but the arrival of Luxon and Willis? Now that was a road to Damascus moment, even if it never got out of Thorndon.

Hoskin read a few verses from the King James version in honor of the occasion. Here is what he said.

And as Luxon journeyed the 150 metres, he came near to parliament: and suddenly there shined round about him a light from heaven: And he fell to the earth, and heard a voice saying unto him, Luxon, Willis, why persecutest thou me? And Luxon said, Who art thou, Lord? And the Lord said, I am Jesus whom thou persecutest: it is hard for thee to kick against the pricks.

I am reliably told that ten minutes later Judith Collins’ was seen ascending through 25,000 feet, evicted from this sacred place.

I know very little of the rough and tumble of National Party politics. However, I think the Hoskin and du Plessis-Allan’s celebrations are premature. The arrival of Luxon and Willis, no matter how divine, is not going to provide long-term stability. Study the photographs, watch the news, wherever Luxon goes, Willis is close behind. And always with that fixed, calculating Marsden Collegiate School stare. Make no mistake she is after the top job.

Her face is worth a thousand words. The thin lips, the even thinner eyes, the 1990’s explosion of hair and the calculating death grin, it was all practiced and perfected in her struggle for power in the Marsden School playground. Her every move is staged. Her every action planned.

“A song she heard

Of cold that gathers

Like winter’s tongue

Among the shadows

It rose like blackness

In the sky” – Robert Fanney

The well-watered children. The husband’s designer jeans – I hate designer jeans – and untucked shirt with sleaves half rolled up the forearm is a look well-prepared for the partner of a killer. Her accessories – including her husband and children – have been bought and paid for with one thought in mind. Do they match the image expected of the boss? No one goes to that much trouble to stand one step behind Luxon for the rest of her life.

Doing the dirty on Luxon is her bread and butter. She has done it a hundred times before. And Luxon trusts her. His naivety will kill him. There is evidence he has a primal and somewhat juvenile response to danger and excitement. He need not worry. He is going to get plenty of that in the next few months. No advice, all those years at Unilever and Air New Zealand, the hired Mercedes, none of it will prevent Luxon joining Muller and Bridges. It is off the subject but can anyone explain why Luxon tells the world he was educated in New Zealand’s state schools when his first year at high school was spent at Auckland’s exclusive and very private Saint Kentigern College.

The National Party has changed. Gone are Holyoake, Marshal, English and Key. Today people like Collins and Willis are its natural right-wing leaders. They are the ones who pray alone in St Thomas Church in Kohimarama but merit the nickname Crusher. They stand respectfully behind their leader, waiting and finding the best spot to insert the stiletto blade. No wonder Hoskin and du Plessis-Allan enjoy their company.

The National Party blood sport will continue. Fortunately, it is live and free to air on TV1 and TV3. Take your seats, put a few dollars on Willis. This is just the beginning.