du Fresne on Peters

Karl du Fresne probably wouldn't complain at being described by us as a veteran journalist. He admits to having been in journalism for "more than 40 years", which means that he has been writing longer than Winston Peters has been an MP; Peters first entered Parliament after the 1978 General Election and the infamous Hunua electoral petition.

So du Fresne's musings on Peters this week are the product of a career's worth of observations, and should be taken in that context; he opines:

Some people are in the fortunate position of being able to write or say almost anything and get away with it.
Take art critics, for example. Most contemporary art is, almost by definition, incapable of being explained coherently.
It follows that a critic can interpret it any way he or she chooses and sound authoritative, at least to the gullible.
Often the artists themselves have no idea what their works mean. Some of the more honest ones admit it.
The critic, therefore, has total freedom to decide what the artist's creation represents - and if the critique is phrased in words whose exact meaning is impossible to pin down, so much the better.
Much the same applies to wine writers, some of whom are in danger of displacing art critics as the most infamous creators of pretentious tosh.
Because the flavour, aroma and texture of wine is subtle, nuanced and hard to capture in words, a wine writer can use outrageously fanciful descriptive terms and appear knowledgeable. I know, because I used to be one.
Then there's Winston Peters. Even art critics and wine writers should bow to him as the acknowledged master of verbal flummery.
Words cease to have any meaning when they tumble out of Mr Peters' mouth. The sounds that emerge resemble recognisable language but they reveal nothing.
It follows that it's usually pointless trying to get sense out of him. An interview with him is as futile as a dog chasing its tail. Yet journalists keep on trying, as John Campbell bravely did on Campbell Live a couple of weeks ago.
Campbell is an accomplished broadcaster, but perhaps he needs to be gently reminded that Albert Einstein defined insanity as trying the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. 

In many ways, the Winston Peters who disrupts the flow of Question Time these days is a pale imitation of the Peters of old. Time, late nights and cigarettes have not treated the bloke they once called Luigi kindly. His "suppmentyqueshin" calls and the words that follow them are at times very difficult to interpret.

Peters can still light up a smoke-filled room with his mischievous grin, but his oratory is nowhere near as sharp as it used to be. As du Fresne notes "it's usually pointless trying to get sense out of him. An interview with him is as futile as a dog chasing its tail." 

One has to wonder for how much longer Peters will be able to keep it all up. There's certainly no-one emerging from the NZ First caucus to take his place, and you have to think that when Winston calls "time" on his career (or when the electorate does that for him), there will be no way back. But he has already completed one Lazarus-like comeback.

Winston Peters will never change, and people like John Campbell need to accept that. However willing the spirit is however, Father Time may dull the flesh.