Nga wai hono i te po arrives in London as British tribes continue to war over Downing Street. Perhaps she can bring them stability. Maybe she could whip them up a treaty?

Nga wai hono i te po stepped off a plane this week into a London on the verge of summer: it was 13°C and raining. 

Te Kuini was ostensibly there to celebrate four young entrepreneurs at an event held by the King’s Trust, which turns 50 this year. 

But she also arrived on the rain-soaked isles as the country’s chiefs erupted into bitter fighting, the tribes of Westminster were baying for blood. The notion of the fifth prime minister in five years seemed quite likely. 

It must have been worrying for these emissaries from the Waikato to confront such war-like behaviour. Sir Keir Starmer, the prosecutor-turned-prime minister, has had a bafflingly bad time of it. The leader for barely two years, his term has been beset by scandal, backtracks and his inability to connect with, well, anyone. A Labour prime minister who’d been swept to power with a stonking majority, facing growing anger that they had done nothing with their mandate. It must have felt reassuringly familiar for the visitors. 

As Starmer was fighting for his survival, just around the corner, Nga wai hono i te po and her entourage were posing for a photo by Big Ben, red buses tootling past the influencers and hawkers on the bridge beneath. 

On Tuesday morning, the papers were screaming their verdicts. “Cabinet turns on Starmer,” said The Times. “Time to Go,” said The Telegraph. “STARMER’S ON THE BRINK,” yelled The Sun. Disgruntled MPs were queuing outside television studios to stick the boot in, all while Ngā wai hono i te po was visiting a local rangatira, Prince William. 

“A pleasure to meet with Māori Queen Te Arikinui Kuini Nga wai hono i te po today at Windsor Castle,” the Prince of Wales said in a post on Instagram. They were at their equivalent of Māhinārangi, though instead of finely-etched whakairo, there were oil paintings, chandeliers, and golden decollage.

By the time this was posted, the Northern tribes – Manchester mayor Andy Burnham – were on the march towards London. He’s not even an MP, but he was being touted as the man most likely to conquer Downing Street. 

This warrior mentality of the native chiefs must have worried officials thousands of kilometres away, in the offices of Waikato-Tainui. Maybe that’s the reason for the visit. They’d sent some emissaries to unite the warring tribes, to establish some order “with free informed consent”. 

After all, they had to control their settlers, too. There were real fears about the behaviour of the self-referred “expats” and their hunger for land around Clapham and Hackney. The rowdy settlers were wreaking havoc, with their embarrassing drunken haka on the Circle Line. Dalston’s high street was starting to resemble Kororāreka in the 1830s.

Maybe Ngā wai hono i te po was here to offer something. Maybe they need a treaty: a guarantee of rights, and these warring tribes could be enlightened with some stability. 

They’re wonderful things, if honoured. They might be able to quickly sketch up a rough draft on a sticky table at a Wetherspoons pub one night.