Ukraine has elected as its president a comedian with no political experience and not many policies. So what would our comedians do if elected to be the President of New Zealand? Here are their manifestos.

Guy Williams

Two words: Flag referendum. The last one was a shambles and we need another one! I genuinely think New Zealand needs a comedian president because that would mean we’re now a republic with the Laser Kiwi as our flag and ‘Poi E’ as the national anthem!

The terrifying thing is that I always thought I genuinely had something to offer politics. Not policy or expertise, but from a marketing and communications perspective. A good policy announcement kind of works like a joke where it needs to be succinct, broadly understood, and pack some sort of punch or impact. This arrogant fantasy is now a grim reality as our most successful political leaders have become soundbite PR machines.

Ruby Esther

They say it’s the quiet ones you need to watch. They say my quietness comes off as a little anxious, but that’s mostly just my anxiety. Sure, you could have a president with loud and outspoken opinions, but wouldn’t you rather have a president you can take abortion off of the crimes act if you just promise I don’t have to be the one to make the phone call? Wouldn’t you prefer a president who’s happy not to legalise nuclear weapons as long as it means I don’t have to shake a strangers hand? In times of conflict, you wouldn’t need to debate with me, you’d just need to promise as little human interaction as possible and a paid subscription to the Headspace app.

James Mustapic

My manifesto:

1. Drew Neemia must unblock me on all social platforms.
2. Hot butter chicken must be BANNED. Too hot.
3. No one is allowed to drive so that I feel better about not being able to drive.
4. Someone, please find me a man for fuck’s sake.
5. Shortland Street plays 24 hours a day, seven days a week.
6. Can people please stop saying “adulting” and “I don’t know how to human”. Cheers.
7. Also, I will tax people on their capital gains.

Michele A’Court

Pockets for everyone!

Eli Matthewson

Me? President? I’ll do it. I’d outlaw hashtags at weddings, cafés that bring your toast with stiff butter straight out of the fridge, and I’d shut down a company that keeps advertising me a men’s make-up brand called ‘Warpaint’ (babe, if I need concealer it’s not because I’m going to war).

I’d also – and I know this would maybe be out of my jurisdiction – enforce the Hellenistic religion (that’s believing in the Greek Gods even though it’s 2019) as the official national religion. See my show to see why ;-)

Ray Shipley

As President of New Zealand, my manifesto would be simple: eat the rich. Although, do you think I’m allowed to say that? People get that it’s just an expression, eh? Sorry, maybe I should find a softer way of saying the same thing that ends up having no meaning at all. Perhaps I should say “EAT THE RICH!” with passion and integrity and then slowly and quietly, and with a lot of charm, just feed the rich until the world is on fire instead? That’s all I’m good for I think. Occasionally nibble on the rich!

Tim Batt

Boomers, you had your chance. We tried to wrestle the tax from your ill-gotten property gains the good old fashioned way and you spat the dummy. So guess what? We’re taking away your favourite things. Coronation Street: cancelled! SUVs: cancelled! Xtra email addresses: cancelled!

This new anti-Boomer economy will not be fair or just – it’s retribution. I hope you managed to finish Eat Pray Love because it is now BANNED in Aotearoa. Cruise ships are a disgusting blight on the environment, and our ports and the leisure industry will be illegal in this country.

I promise to end Boomer culture. Together we can form a country of diversity, accountability and being able to get a dog when you’re 35 to substitute a kid, then spending so much on treats for the dog/kid that you’ll never be able to have a real kid ever.

The prime minister and the leader of the opposition are supposed to be enemies, but Madeleine Chapman just wants Jacinda Ardern and Simon Bridges to be friends again.

There’s a moment in every romantic comedy when one protagonist realises that the other protagonist likes them, despite all their actions and words up until that point suggesting otherwise.

In Love Actually (2003) Keira Knightley’s character learns that her husband’s best friend, played by Andrew Lincoln, is in love with her. Her response is concise.

“But…you don’t like me.”

Oh to be negged endlessly by someone who secretly loves you. It’s the oldest trick in the book. Two friends, seemingly in disagreement about everything to the point where everyone else wonders why they would spend any time together if all they do is argue. We’ve seen it hundreds of times on the big screen, and we’ll see it a hundred times more. But it’s not just in fiction that such dynamics exist. Sometimes these dynamics end in true love. Sometimes they end like Love Actually: a weird professing of unrequited love done to a tinny soundtrack and using way too much arts and crafts. And sometimes they end as you would expect: the friendship fizzles away and they become two people who, instead of playfully disagreeing, seem to genuinely dislike one another.

In this essay I will present the sad demise of the romcom friendship between Simon Bridges and Jacinda Ardern.

Meet Simon and Jacinda. They’re young, they’re new in town (Beehive), and, according to morning television host Pippa Wetzell, they’re “two of the sexiest politicians in the country”. Jacinda owns a ghd, Simon owns hair gel, and they’re both owning this joint interview. Iconic duo.

They’re destined to fight each other their entire careers but that has never stopped friendship and even romance from blooming. Can anybody say You’ve Got Mail?

Their parties have chosen them as their brightest stars. The National party choosing Simon over Nikki Kaye for the role of “Young Gun” is something I’m not qualified to comment on, unlike the definitely real and definitely close friendship between Simon and Jacinda.

Look how close they’re sitting. Surely they bonded over the fact that they travelled back in time to the 90s to be part of this 240p video. This is a Christmas episode of morning television. Spending Christmas together, the most romantic of all the seasons.

It’s 2010. Jacinda and Simon are appearing together on InBetween, a show I had not heard of until today. They’re speaking to a studio audience of children and are being very nice to each other, like Mum and Dad behaving in front of guests. Okay, full disclosure, I just noticed the wedding band on Simon’s finger which has really derailed the entire premise of this article but I’ll continue on regardless, like a politician insisting they’re stepping down voluntarily.

In this clip, when asked if they get along, Jacinda jokes “usually when we’re talking there’s a table in front of us and I’m quietly kicking Simon in the shins.” It gets a good laugh from the kids but do you know what another word for ‘kicking under the table’ is? Footsie. Yes, that felt weird to type after the recent married revelation but just go with it, we’ve come this far.

Video quality would suggest the year is 2011 or 2012. Simon is using less hair gel and Jacinda has begun curling her hair with her ghd. How?? Should’ve known she’d be prime minister one day. Simon is working a grey suit with the confidence of a man who’s not sitting next to a political enemy, but a close personal friend.

2011. A lovely shot. Just two friends having a laugh. Host Petra Bagust has just accidentally introduced a “Jacinda Bridges”. Simon responds, “she will never be a Jacinda Bridges.” CLASSIC NEG! And Jacinda reacts like this:

CLASSIC NEG REACTION!

*Insert four years of being neither Young Guns nor party leaders aka the lagging second act of every romcom*

Nooooo what happened? As with most relationship breakdowns, success happened. Jacinda, now the leader of the country, and Simon the leader of the Opposition. A less important tidbit: in that time, both politicians had children and would appear to be in happy relationships. Friendly banter and friendly negs are now daily snarky remarks and a trademarked power sit. Things are rocky. This isn’t how the movie was supposed to end. We (no one) wanted You’ve Got Mail, not 500 Days of Summer. But real life isn’t a romcom, not even a friendship romcom. Sometimes all we have are memories.

Simon, Jacinda, if you’re reading this – and you should be – next time you attack each other, cast your minds back to a simpler time and remember what it was like to be best friends*.

*claim not verified.