It’s an old, hack promotional tactic and we keep falling for it.

Let’s start with the obvious. Jacinda Ardern is the prime minister of an actual country on planet earth. Even if you’re a hater, or indeed a super fan, that should give you a clue as to her schedule. She has a child which I imagine she likes to try and spend time with. Even if you can not muster an iota of respect for her, or are wondering about the trip to Antarctica, her diary seems objectively full. I will do a DJ set myself if it turns out the person making this request, Fatman Scoop, has a busier diary than the PM’s. It will be terrible but my time is worth less than the prime minister’s.

While everyone loves a relatable politician, this particular prime minister’s every move and photo is scrutinised and picked apart. This is increasingly happening to all politicians – sometimes it’s funny, sometimes those photos are distorted and used in the type of online commentary people should arguably be sent to Twitter jail, or indeed actual jail, for. Sometimes her imagery ends up in weird deepfake videos where she and fiance Clarke Gayford are reenacting the Princess Bride. Sometimes her image is used in beautiful fan art. She ain’t giving you a DJ photo op. She wouldn’t even DJ at the vaxathon, leaving Clarke to sheepishly hit the decks. 

Secondly, people should be able to age out of shit they did when they were young. Jacinda DJed one set in 2014. Have a think about all the things you did one time in 2014 and then think what you’d do if everyone kept publicly insisting you do it again.

I am no longer able to do a round-off after a bottle of wine. I would not comply with your request to do that anymore, no matter how much chanting you did or how many patronising pleas for “Annie, do gymnastics” or how many times you told me I would know what to do. I smashed my elbow up so bad the last time I did a drunk round-off I had to lie to the physio about the cause of my injury being kayaking. I also will not: drink a beer from a cup stuffed down my cleavage, do fake Riverdancing, recite poetry or sing Evita from start to finish for you. Sometimes the things we liked doing when we were younger are not the things we like doing when we get older. Sometimes a hobby is just a temporary stop on the way to realising you prefer to listen to other people play music.

Finally, this kind of thing is a set-up. It’s a stunt. A novelty trick to get attention and publicity. That’s all that’s happening here and it’s boring. The prime minister refuses, she looks like a killjoy. It just sets off a ridiculous chain of events including media outlets thinking it’s all good to refer to the prime minister as Cindy in a push notification, red banner and now-deleted headline because we’re all just having a laugh. Things are heated and murky enough right now. We don’t need to dredge up this dated one-hit-wonder of a trope and we certainly shouldn’t be giving it airtime beyond it prompting another killjoy lady to write an entire, albeit short, piece about how you should stop asking the prime minister to DJ. Fade it out.