Inside deputy prime minister David Seymour's celebration brunch

The Spinoff

2 days ago

On Sunday the newly minted deputy prime minister had brunch with Act Party faithfuls. Gabi Lardies was there.
The stairs were completely jammed up with Epsom's finest. The dress code was unclear – alongside Kathmandu rain jackets were stiletto heels and magenta ties. It seemed that the majority of the mostly older crowd, who were imprinting red lipstick on their takeaway coffee cups about 10 steps away from their brunch reservations, were completely unfazed by the hordes of people outside, who were waving Palestine flags and chanting,'you're supporting genocide'. Once upstairs the chanting was inaudible, instead giving way to a new sensory experience, the smell of baby powder. Tickets were carefully checked and people were sequestered to their assigned tables, all 20 or so of them, round, covered in black polyester tablecloths and seating 10.
So began the Act Party's special celebration brunch on Sunday morning at the Hyundai Marine Sports Centre on Auckland's Tāmaki Drive. The occasion? A milestone. A huge ascension. A shiny new role for their leader. Little more than a decade after being the sole Act MP in parliament thanks only to the Epsom electorate, David Seymour was sworn in as deputy prime minister barely 24 hours earlier.
That part was no surprise, it was all as laid out by the coalition agreements signed in November 2023. Each of the coalition party leaders is to serve half a term as deputy. Winston Peters' 18 months are up, and now it's Seymour's turn. The title is largely just that – a title. Being deputy does not come with any specific portfolios and the biggest responsibility is acting as prime minister when Christopher Luxon is away. Even Seymour has confessed that ' to be honest, it doesn't make a massive practical difference '. But still, party members, supporters and hardcore loyalists turned up to give him not one, but two standing ovations.
But first, brunch.
I confess there was one journalist in the room who had assumed a celebratory brunch would mean bubbles, or at least mimosas, but the chilled glass bottles on the tables were merely water, and nary a drop of juice was to be seen. Glasses of muesli and yogurt were distributed around the room by waitstaff and then prodded unenthusiastically. One by one, tables were invited to make their selections from the buffet tables on either side of the room, not unlike a wedding reception.
The buffet tables were a dietary requirements nightmare. It was mostly half-sized pastries that were erupting flakes within a 5km radius. If you didn't want a pastry, you could opt for an english muffin, not that they were gluten free. All eggs were scrambled, mixed up with who knows what and extremely close to the bacon.
The drinks table was similarly non-woke. There was a box of teabags, a cauldron of coffee and one jug of cow's milk, with an undisclosed amount of skim. None of the attendees requested plant-based milk.
At about 10.20am, David Seymour stepped into the room, wearing what he always wears – a dark toned suit with a coloured tie, this time blue. In the sea of retirees, he looked like a fresh foal, long legged and eager to please. 'Thanks for coming,' he said quietly to a table of adoring fans. 'Do you live nearby?' Before he got to life's big questions, he was whisked away to the front of the room, where pop-up Act branded banners and a lectern sliced up the perfect view of Rangitoto. Behind the logos, the volcano stood proudly in the shimmering waters, flanked by Northhead and Motutapu. Little sailboats wobbled on the shimmery sea and seagulls circled. But nobody was looking out there.
Seymour chatted to Act president John Windsor near tables scattered with his MPs: Karen Chhour wore a breast cancer ribbon on each of her magenta lapels, Parmjeet Parmar quietly looked on, and Todd Stephenson and Simon Court entertained John Banks. Laura McClure seemed restless, pacing in and out and across the room. When Brooke Van Velden arrived she joined her leader at the front of the room. Neither of them ate, though Seymour sipped from a takeaway coffee cup he'd bought in with him, and Van Velden made herself a steaming cup of tea.
At 10.45am, Act staffers checked the TV cameras were ready to roll before giving Seymour the go ahead. President Windsor took the lectern and a hush quickly descended over the room. He introduced Van Velden, who then introduced the deputy prime minister of the moment, Seymour. Before he had got a word in, the clapping (but not cheering) crowd popped up out of their seats. They stood and clapped for what felt like a feature length movie. Then finally, the Sunday speech they'd been anticipating for 18 months began.
'It does not take a majority to prevail, but rather an irate, tireless minority, keen on setting brushfires of freedom in the minds of men and women.' Seymour began with a quote from Samuel Adams, one of the United States founding fathers. He left no doubt in anyone's minds that it was people in this room who were that irate, tireless minority, and the fire they were lighting was one of classical liberalism.
For 23 minutes Seymour spoke without once glancing at notes or fumbling. Every head on every table was turned his way. There was no chatter, no one scrolling on a phone, not even a cough. Eating and drinking were paused. The laughs came on all the right cues, at comments like 'some people probably think that books are a symbol of colonisation' and 'it was written by Brooke, but like Helen Clark, I just signed it' and all the references to Dancing with the Stars.
Most of all the laughing came when Seymour roasted his opponents. 'I get so much free accommodation living in Willie Jackson's head,' he said. 'You know nearly every single press release from Labour, every fundraising email, every talking point, is about how dangerous David Seymour is… I'm going to have to declare to Labor, yes, I am dangerous, but only to you and your batty outriders.'
Seymour painted a narrative of triumphing against the odds. The Act Party once on the brink of getting evicted from their offices, now at the centre of government. The many trials and tribulations along the way, like not breaking 1% support for five years. Then a roll call of gratitude to supporters, both big, small, financial and otherwise. The bulk of the speech though was ideological. The word freedom came up again and again, as did liberal. There were some notable omissions. Seymour never mentioned the Treaty principles bill. Not once. Nor did he mention his coalition partners or their parties.
Seymour finished with a look to the future. 'Buckle yourselves in because, in Hillary terms, this, today, is only basecamp.' The crowd popped up like meerkats again, determinedly clapping, and yet strangely silent. But it was all over quickly. Seymour's presence had been promised to a handful of media and their cameras, who followed him and his team into a small room near the entrance of the building. The brunchers were told they were welcome to stay around for more tea and coffee, but the wordless muzak was turned up and the waitstaff started clearing the tables.
In the small media room, the Act MPs stood in a triangular formation much like the pins in ten pin bowling, with Seymour as the head pin. 'This is not any kind of end,' he said, 'it's just another rest before we keep climbing.' His team smiled and nodded along. So what would the peak be? 'A multiple term government with Act at the centre of it.'
Outside a cold wind lifted the sole remaining Palestine flag. The Act Party supporters had mostly melted into the walkers along the waterfront or the line of traffic winding its way to Epsom. When the fundraising efforts begin for the election campaign, they will be called on first, to support the rest of the climb.