The future deputy prime minister revealed the new $3 school lunch options today. But which meal is the best, and which do Act MPs think is too woke?

Parliament’s banquet hall isn’t actually used for banquets very often. But today, there was a rare banquet on offer, consisting of meals that would soon be rolled out to primary schools across the country. Act leader and future deputy prime minister David Seymour, who had spent years decrying school lunches as too expensive and too woke, was chuffed to bits to show off the new meals the government had arranged through private suppliers. He said the new lunches would cost $3 each, saving the government $130m annually.

At the front of the room were two pull-up banners with the logos of all the food brands and suppliers who had contributed to the programme. With great intentionality, a selection of small metal containers was placed on the table, surrounded by a pile of muesli bars, par-baked dinner rolls, and some slices. 

There was something vaguely unnerving about the whole presentation. It was visually recognisable as food, but there was a certain uncanny valley aspect to it all. It looked fake. Maybe it was just the odd juxtaposition of aesthetic plating with such basic children’s food.  On the first whiff, the lunches didn’t smell like anything. With an even closer sniff, there was a hint of sourness, like they had been sitting out too long. Which they almost certainly had. 

The room was filled with ministry staff, food company executives, journalists, and Act MPs. Seymour’s speech was less of an announcement than a victory lap for his own policy. “We achieved what many people did not believe was possible,” he said. “It’s an extraordinary achievement”. He handed out three large bouquets to people who had worked on the project. 

As he moved from the podium, the catering staff brought out a selection of four meals to sample. Thankfully, these were heated and smelled like food. 

The chickpea curry with turmeric rice was creamy and coconutty. The chickpeas had been slow-cooked into a pleasant mush, almost matching the consistency of the pumpkin chunks. The sauce brought out some subtle but interesting flavours while maintaining a net-zero spice rating. 

The butter chicken was forgettable but fine. It was undeniably a butter chicken, with a creamy orange sauce and some chunks of white meat that wasn’t too tough. I wouldn’t pay for it at a restaurant, but I’ve had much worse in my years of flatting. 

The Tex Mex mince beef and beans mostly tasted of cheese sauce. It was warm and hearty, a rich meaty mess with an occasional pop of sweetness from the corn and capsicum. Once again, nothing that could be remotely described as spice.

The beef rissoles with mash were the standout. The rissoles were so soft they barely held their form and were slathered in a thick barbecue sauce gravy. The potato and carrots were mashed into a soft and sloppy substance with plenty of butter. It was beautiful sloppy comfort food. It’s a hard meal to mess up, and to the chef’s credit, they didn’t. 

None of the food is going to set the culinary world on fire, but it was decent. If I were served one of the metal trays (“beautiful thermal containers” as one ministry official scribed them) on an aeroplane, I wouldn’t complain. I’ve had better on Air New Zealand and worse on Jetstar. While tasting the food in front of a crowded cluster of cameras, Seymour did his best to ham it up, moaning in delight at every mouthful. “That is so good, really good, seriously good food,” he said. He rated it a 9.5 out of 10 because “you can always improve”. 

The question on everyone’s mind was: which meal was the wokest? Seymour pretended not to understand the question. “Woke? I think I meant awake, these meals will keep the kids awake and ready to learn.” Act’s arts spokesperson Todd Stephenson, who famously once watched a musical, enjoyed the cultural delights of a butter chicken. He said none of the foods were too woke for him. “I have a broad palate.” Andrew Hoggard, the associate minister of agriculture and former president of Federated Farmers, said the chickpea curry was the wokest. “I think my daughter might turn up her nose at that”. 

Worried about upsetting the workplace woke brigade by calling someone a loser? Don’t fret – it’s actually possible to banter on the job without causing offence or getting your boss involved. Lyric Waiwiri-Smith shares some tips.

When was the last time someone held their hand to their forehead in an L-shape and called you a loser? If you’re a normal person, it would probably be primary school. If you’re a small business employee who recently crossed paths with National MP Andrew Bayly, it might have been a few weeks ago.

The minister for small business and commerce fronted the media looking like a deer in headlights last Friday afternoon to address allegations he had acted inappropriately while visiting a small business in his ministerial capacity. In a letter of complaint, an employee of the business accused the minister of being intoxicated as he asked the employee why he was still working, then told him to “take some wine and fuck off”. According to the worker, Bayly repeatedly called him a “loser” while holding his hand in an L-shaped formation to his forehead.

Bayly apologised for causing offence, but has denied being intoxicated or using the word “fuck”, and told RNZ’s Lisa Owen the discussion was a “light-hearted exchange”. In the letter, the complainant said the exchange left them feeling “embarrassed, ridiculed, and degraded.” Prime minister Christopher Luxon said Bayly’s comments “fell well short” of expected behaviour from MPs and the minister had got it “horribly wrong”, but as he had been given the assurance it would not happen again, Bayly would not be demoted. 

It is not the first time one of Bayly’s “jokes” has failed to land. Following a National Party conference in 2021, Bayly apologised to then local government minister Nanaia Mahuta for mucking up her name. “Nanna, manna, nan, um, nanny, manny, man, oh dear, whatever,” he reportedly said. “There’s no media here, is there?”

He clearly has a funny bone in there somewhere, but maybe it’s permanently sprained. Like a bad child, it’s possible Bayly has picked up the naughty words from others and is using them without much thought. Parliament doesn’t exactly set a good example: Hansard shows the word “loser” has commonly been used as an insult since 2002, including when Rodney Hide referred to Winston Peters as “that loser” who “has taken the biggest baubles of office his greedy chops could reach around”, when John Banks called Metiria Turei the “co-loser of the Green Party”, and when Stuart Nash told Nick Smith to “turn it up, you bloody loser”. Unfortunately, Hansard does not record whether the MPs in question were making L shapes on their forehead at the time.

Use of the word begins to peter out post-2011, following the departure of one of its most fond users, Act’s Hide. Frequency tumbles even lower from 2022 onwards, after Labour’s Trevor Mallard, another prolific “loser” user, also left the big House. These days, politicians prefer to call each other the likes of “banshees”, “arrogant prick”, “bigoted lefty shill” or “colonesian”.

A gaffe here and there also isn’t unheard of (or unexpected) from our politicians when they’re out and about. In 2013, then National MP Aaron Gilmore allegedly asked a bartender in Hanmer Springs “do you know who I am?” before threatening to get John Key involved in sacking him. Needless to say, no one was sacked, but Gilmore did resign from parliament, telling reporters: “If there was a dickhead that night, it was me”. (There was a missed opportunity for Bayly to repeat this line with “loser” instead of “dickhead”.)

Not everyone is naturally quick-witted or even funny, and that’s OK. But should you feel inspired to make a joke and engage in some light-hearted conversation in the course of carrying out your work duties, follow this guide to keep yourself out of hot water and bad headlines, and in the loving hearts and minds of New Zealand’s losers workforce.

1. Keep your hands out of it. It’s crazy how quickly a definitely well-meaning gesture can turn into a L-shape on the forehead or the pulling of a ponytail.
2. Avoid name-calling and personal insults, even if you think you’re both in on the joke. Calling someone a loser? We have definitely established that this probably won’t go down well. Puffed-up little shit? Also a hard no-go.
3. Stick to a topic you know about, which in Bayly’s case is allegedly business, but clearly he hasn’t quite cracked comedic gold in that arena yet. It might have been safer for him to do a “how about that airplane food?” bit.
4. Punching up is much better and typically less socially risk-averse than punching down. Digging at the opposition: par for the course. Digging at a small business worker: bad.
5. If your “joke” is met with more uncomfortable glances than laughter, abort mission. Do not repeat joke. Do not try to explain joke. Do not say “am I right?” or “do you get it?” Do not invite person you have offended out to drinks. Take the L and admit you might be a bit of a loser when it comes to cracking jokes.