I met him at the Goff campaign office in central Auckland, which is in the process of being packed up, so has the air of a deflated balloon after a good party. Thompson (whom Lewis calls GJ; he calls Clark Clarky; I don’t know about Browny or Goffy) was there. When I suggest we go for a drink at the nearby Mezze Bar, he says he doesn’t know the place. Thompson says, “He doesn’t know about nice things.”
That seems about right. He is an austere character, coolish, watchful – all of which you’d expect from a shadow lurker. It’s not his job to stand out. His clothes are so nondescript they defy description. He’d make a decent spy; he probably does make a decent spy. He is tight-lipped, which is also what you’d expect.