It’s only words, and words are all I have to take your heart away.

And the dramatic rise of NZ First in the polls and into the third most popular party spot, has all been done using words. But what is it about those words that are starting to resonate?

To be fair, it’s words but it’s also the actions or non-actions of the other parties of course. Clearly something is making the electors restless, and I don’t doubt the Labour lookalikes called the National Party are partly responsible. Their tentative approach to most everything is a bit drab, and Christopher Luxon is about as inspiring as a shiny bowling ball constantly sailing past two standing pins.

Labour voters with some residual functioning brain wattage after all of their covid jabs must be among those now full-on flirting with NZ First. And regarding Labour we’re talking less about uninspiring and more about yesterday’s men. And women. And she/hers and he/hims and they/thems and pansexuals and…… the list goes on. And on. Did you know there are over 100 genders now? Is it any wonder Chris Hipkins claimed to not know what a woman is? It’s all very confusing. If you’re retarded.

But central to this change in support for NZ First is likely to do with the basics of not having enough money. When the voters are feeling financially squeezed everything is up for grabs. Next year’s election will be fascinating, and plain talkers should do well.

Shane Jones is an excellent orator but not a complex double-talker when it comes to his home-made videos describing the urgent need for raping and pillaging our own land, rather than the raping and pillaging of a foreign one, for the resources we need. He’s right, it is only fair to keep the raping and pillaging confined to the ‘hood rather than contracting it out. It’s the morally right thing to do.

But NZ First’s ace card is the grinning maestro of all things down-to-earth. And retro. And who doesn’t want a decent dose of retro in these batshit crazy times?

Winston Peters cuts through pomposity, over-complication, and woke journalists faster than my pig dog on porcine testicles. Not much fun for the recipient but compelling viewing for the rest of us.

At 80 years of age he works like a navvy, is respected around the world as a foreign affairs guru, dresses the part, and has a healthy streak of stone-cold cynicism. His humour is dry, infectious and distinctly Kiwi. And I think that he’s a living, breathing symbol of a lot of what New Zealand has lost.

He perfectly represents a time when Maori and Pakeha weren’t forced to focus on their differences. He encapsulates a certain masculinity that is getting much harder to find. He is the perfect antidote to ‘woke’.

And although it helps, you don’t have to be older to despise ‘woke’. Increasingly, the backlash against wokeness is starting to make an appearance in younger demographics. For the committed Palestinian-loving, blue-haired, trans fans that our society keeps pumping out there’s only ever going to be a tick for the Green queens but, for the rest of us on planet sane, we need options.

Or maybe the jump is because people are finally realising that mass immigration is not good for the heartbeat of a nation. They may be noticing the consequences of legal and illegal migration into Europe and the United States and also clicking to the fact that in New Zealand it’s a short-term monetary solution to a long-term problem. Some cultures go together like oil and water, and nothing we say or do will ever change that.

It's entirely possible too that New Zealanders are yearning for nationalism and reframing it. The left says it’s a dirty word; and our soppy excuse for the right basically says the same. I think if we don’t shut the gates soon to globalism on steroids, then we’re doomed. It won’t happen but we may well end up forced into shutting them.

The polls are telling us something. Like it or not, the New Zealand you think you know is not the whole truth, and I’ll make a prediction that NZ First will likely hit somewhere between the 15 to 20 per cent mark at next year’s election. Barring huge cockups and disasters, that’s around where I think they’ll land.

It’s probably fairly evident to you by now that I’m no political scientist. My days of caring deeply about politics and politicians in this country are pretty much over. I once did but no more.

However, just like economists, political pundits often get their arses handed back to them after making deep and sober predictions. My rather agrarian take is therefore just as valid as theirs so, watch this space.

And unlike many of those pundits, I wasn’t born yesterday. And neither was Winston.

And sometimes that’s a very good thing.