Valedictory Statements

Thank you, Mr Speaker. I have to declare this: I’m just joking. I’m not actually leaving; I just wanted to have a good leer up with all my friends and family to kick things off. But I’m just going to take a moment while some more come into the gallery and actually just take it all in, really, because six years has gone in a blink, and I can’t actually believe I’m here having this moment. I’ve got 15 minutes to cram in six years of great times and great people that I’ve met along the way. In fact, I think this is the second time only that I’ve written a speech for the House. The first one was my maiden speech. And look at that—I’m already off track! I’ve completely lost my train of thought. I normally just free ball it, but let’s give it a go.

Righty-o, to begin with, I just want to thank Matty, firstly. I’m now affectionately known by my friends as Clayton “I am the law” Mitchell. I’ve still no idea why my friends affectionately refer to me as that, but I’ve got Matty to thank for it.

I have to say, it’s been a crazy couple of weeks in politics. In fact, the last 24 hours has been even crazier, so maybe that term needs to be modified slightly. Last week was a bit awkward also and nearly caused further embarrassment for the National Party, when I got a call from one of their caucus members saying that I had their support to run for their leadership. I thought for a moment, “What’s this about? How can this be?”, and I was taken aback until I realised that they’d called the wrong Mitchell. They hadn’t cottoned on quite as quick as I did, and I was quick to say, “You should be calling Winston. He’d be a great leader for you guys.” At which point, they went, “Ah. I thought this was Mark Mitchell.” Crazy times, and I don’t know what’s next. I don’t think anybody could guess.

Anyway, it just seems like yesterday I was standing in the House for the first time, doing my maiden speech, as I’ve already said, talking about all the things that matter—and still matter—such as fixing the Resource Management Act (RMA), building roads, pushing for a single standard of citizenship for all New Zealanders, stopping the wholesale selling off of our State assets, building better internal capabilities for manufacturing and processing to add value to our exports to create wealth for Kiwis, and, of course, controlling immigration. I haven’t finished with helping out achieve those goals yet. There is much more that needs to be done and much more that we can all still do to make these things happen.

Anyway, six years on and a whole lot of rapid depreciation by way of a receding hairline—which I quite regularly get told about sitting behind the Deputy Prime Minister every day in the House. I get these emails from people saying, “I don’t know if you know this, but you’re going bald.” I don’t know what planet they’re from that they think that that’s an appropriate comment to make to a politician, but we’ve got feelings too out there, people. There’s only seven that watch Parliament TV anyway.

Anyway, I’m off back to the real world. In my time as an MP, I’ve had some highs—and I think, if the Greens have their way, New Zealand will be having a lot of highs after the referendum at the coming up election—and, of course, I’ve had some lows, but I haven’t had too many of those. I’ve had some lessons learnt, like the fact that common sense isn’t particularly common and that Australians like to fight over toilet paper when there’s a pandemic, which really surprised me. I’ve had plenty of incredible experiences, learnt a whole lot, and met some truly amazing people.

I’ve seriously enjoyed being party whip and working on the Economic Development, Science and Innovation Committee. I’ve worked on overhauling the RMA. I’ve brought balance to the labour and industrial relations discussion. I’ve continued to push for a single standard of citizenship. I’ve introduced a member’s bill to make English an official language—most people don’t even know that English is not an official language of New Zealand. I’ve worked to find a fair solution for small to medium sized enterprise tenants during the COVID lockdown, and people know we’ve been doing a lot of work behind the scenes on that one. I’ve worked to get the firearms legislation in a much better place, and I’ve worked with the racing Minister to ensure the racing industry got the reforms required to ensure it was sustainable long into the future—and that was just last month.

But now, according to reliable media sources, I’m heading back to the real world to beat up a few gang members, get thrown out of some bars, and toss a few dwarfs. But more of that later—and I don’t mean at the function, because I couldn’t get hold of any leprechauns, so there is definitely no dwarf-tossing tonight.

Today, I’m here to reflect on my time in Parliament, to thank and acknowledge the wonderful friends and family who have supported me, and to acknowledge the great people I have met and worked with—not only those people in and around Parliament and across the political divide but also throughout the real world, in business and industry spread from Cape Reinga to the Bluff and even internationally.

I want to take a moment to genuinely thank and acknowledge the many who’ve made the journey to be here in the gallery today. A big thankyou for taking the time out of your busy lives and giving me your support over the past six years. I truly mean it. You all mean so much to me, and I really do feel quite flattered and honoured that you have taken the time to be here, so thank you, everyone. I’m looking forward to the after-match function, of course, for a couple of beers and some saveloys. That’ll be a bit of fun.

Of course, I particularly want to thank my gorgeous, wonderful family, who have been patient and have shared my time with my job as an MP for the last six years. Particularly, I want to thank my lovely wife, Erika, and my kids, Jazzie, Ollie, and William. Will, when you came here, you were smaller than a grasshopper, and you still have to sit on your hands to see over that rail there. Good to see you growing well, mate. Keep up with those greens. But also, with my mum and dad—my mum and sister Bobbi couldn’t be here today, nor could my mother-in-law and father-in-law, Lesley and Neil, or my UK family, due to the travel restrictions. But I know you’re watching, along with Adam and Cath, Big Rich, Chris Blockley, Pete, and Nina. Thanks for tuning in. I know the other seven people that watch Parliamentary TV, too—thank you.

What a journey, what a blast, and what a very humbling and privileged time it has been. When I arrived at this place, I was expecting a very hostile and sterile environment and one which I anticipated wouldn’t be a particularly good fit with me. But I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Although I had never considered being a member of Parliament and anyone that knew me would have said it’s not the right fit for me—eh, Gibbo? Where are you? There you are. And partly because I’d never had any formal training, I didn’t use big words when I spoke, and I hadn’t been part of any debating team growing up—that and, of course, I struggle with bureaucratic nonsense and clipboard-carrying, hard hat - wearing suck-ups who make your life unnecessarily difficult, and the fact that I’ve got a reputation for not putting up with the woke brigade’s politically correct BS. But I couldn’t say that, the proper word of that.

But, all that being considered, I actually found I am a good fit for this place, for all the reasons that I’ve outlined: because I do speak fluent human, I don’t mind standing up and having a good row, and I won’t be bullied or capitulated by the metropolitan elite. To that end, I have truly had a great time, and I mean it. Where else can you go for a good dust-up, make some changes, and get paid for it? Now I feel like I’ve got a Master’s in politics, with a far better understanding of how this place works and how to get things done, which has been absolutely fascinating.

I’ve had some high times, and I’ve had some low times, as I’ve already alluded to. Starting with the ups, I have to say the Northland by-election in March of 2015 was a truly incredible time and one that I immensely enjoyed being part of. But every up has its down, and the low point of that three-week campaign was actually hardest felt by my good friend Fletcher Tabu-two-toes, who had to share a room with me every day and put up with me snoring. In fact, after the first night, I woke up with Fletcher saying, “Jesus Christ, mate. Your wife is going to leave you.” I replied with, “What? Why?” I thought I might have sleepwalked in the night and given him a nice big spoon. It’s true. He said, “Because you snore so bloody loud.” In my defence, I just want to add, I was not snoring, I said; I was just dreaming I was a motorbike. But, after three weeks of it, I couldn’t claim or justify the reoccurring dream status. So sorry, Fletch. I truly do apologise to you, mate. I digress.

Anyway, what I’ve learnt—I’ve learnt a whole lot during my time in Parliament, starting with: you don’t need to be in the same party as someone that you are friends with. When I look around this room, I genuinely see people that I’ve enjoyed working with, people that I honestly respect—and you know who you are. So thank you. Two, I’ve also learnt you don’t need to be smart to be an MP—sorry, Matt King; I couldn’t resist. I’ve also learnt you don’t need to be smart or good-looking to be an MP—where is Benno? Sorry, mate—couldn’t help it. I’ve learnt that not all MPs read their paperwork before select committee, but everyone says they have. It’s not hard to work out which ones are which. I’ve been guilty of that a couple of times—“Yeah, yeah—read it, read it, read it.” Take it as read, but, yeah, we know who you are—oh, there you are over there, Benno. You’ve gone a bit redder than normal.

I’ve learnt that media have their own agenda and will often completely twist the truth to suit their agenda. However, there are a couple of journos I trust—keep up the good work, to you I say. I’ve also learnt that you can apply an economic term to just about any situation you like by internalising your externalities. Isn’t that right, Fletch? Private joke. I’ve also learnt that even if you’re allergic to people, you can be a great politician, Darroch. So maybe there’s an ointment or a Lucozade you could take. But, finally, I’ve learnt that division by multiplication is a term I just couldn’t quite work into my speech, so sorry about that, Brent—I tried, bro.

Right—my decision to not stand again was one which I haven’t made lightly. Time’s flying. Almost a year ago, actually—just after your 40th birthday, Kimbers—I spoke to Winston and Fletcher, letting them know of my plan to not seek nomination in 2020, because I felt that six years was about the right amount of public service time for me, and I was ready to get back to the real world of business. Winston asked me to sleep on it for a while, which, of course, I did. As he said, I might want to change my mind at some point. In fact, during the lockdown, I had plenty of time to think about what I wanted to do, and it became abundantly clear to me that my decision to not do another term was the right one.

To some, COVID was stressful beyond words. It was hard on families, relationships, and particularly business, and I’m very mindful of that. But, to me, it was one of the most amazing times. The world slowed down. Everything was reset, and the norm was no longer the norm. Most importantly, and much to my pleasant surprise, I realised my wife still loved me and I still adored her. We had fun together, and worked on projects, too. During COVID, I connected with my kids in a way that I had never done before either, helping them with homework, going on walks, playing cards, and having family discussions about the world and all its wonders. That was priceless. I’m so proud of my family and how they make me feel. Without them, who am I? Another three years would see Jazzie heading off to uni, would see Ollie borrowing the car keys and not wanting to hang out with the olds, and William would be off to high school. He’d be able to see over the lectern, too—sit on your hands, mate. There he is! Yeah, poke your head up. That’s why I’m not re-standing, because you all up there mean so much to me, the absolute world. I love you to bits, more than anything.

Now, everyone wants to know what I’m going to do next. Hopefully, I’ll have time at the end to fill you all in. I don’t want to do a Tim Macindoe on you—like you did at your maiden speech—ripping through the pages to get through the end of it. I’m already under pressure of time—righty-o, moving on.

I’ve met some lifelong friends in and outside of Parliament, and I look forward to regular catch-ups with you all in the next weeks and years ahead. I’d like to start by thanking Audrey van Dalen, who has been an incredible office manager and great friend to me. I will truly miss our daily catch-up, Audrey; thank you. I’d like to also thank Talani Meikle for being the best pocket rocket in the business. I’m going to miss working with you too, Talani, wherever you are—there you are. I see you up there. A big thankyou to Mike, Allie, Paul, Louie, Taylor, and all the team on the 13th floor. What a pleasure it has been to work with you. Thank you for your support and help. Also, I’d like to thank the team on the seventh floor, particularly Helen Lahtinen, affectionately known as “Northern Efficiency”. It’s been great working with you, too. I hope you’re in there.

To my electorate, wow—truly, wow. I couldn’t have done it without you. Roy Townhill, your blood is worth bottling, mate, and I’ll miss you. Giving me my weekly serve of honesty is a great virtue. To my electorate committee, thank you for believing in staying the course, even when the course wasn’t always clear—even for me, it wasn’t clear sometimes. Thank you also to Chris Lee, who has always been a rock that I could depend on. I want to thank Mary Gear and the Gear family for your constant support, love, and loyalty. Just a quick side note: Tommy Gear was the patriarch of the Gear family, but, sadly, this term he passed away, leaving a massive hole in our New Zealand First family. I wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for his tenacity and friendship. Thank you, my friend. We’re missing you, mate.

Finally, I want to thank my caucus. It’s been a great honour and a huge privilege for me to be working alongside you all. Winston—and, you know, he doesn’t like this sort of stuff—you are an inspiration, and I’ve enjoyed beyond words the time I’ve had with you on your team. I’ve particularly loved campaigning with you, but also sitting down at the end of the day over a nice hot cup of tea—aka single malt—discussing New Zealand and world politics, among other things. You put everything into whatever you do, and your wisdom and experience is second to none. Not only have you made politics interesting for me; you’ve made it fun.

Shane, we didn’t know each other very well prior to this term, although, in saying that, both you and Dot always made me very welcome at your home for your annual Waitangi hui. Now, three years on, I can say you’re a great friend, someone who I truly enjoy spending time with and always good humour, great advice, and your knowledge and counsel is unparalleled. As a footnote, mate, just so you’re tuning in, I have been asked by Dot to say stay off the pies and keep up with your training.

Ron, what a great pleasure it’s been working with you, mate, over the past two terms. I’m not sure I can say this without getting cautioned or thrown out, but it’ll be the first time I’ve been thrown out of the House if it doesn’t go so well: you’re a genuine good bastard. Tracey, thank you for being there for us all when we needed you. Mark, working with you over the past term has been fantastic. You have a great future in politics. You never shy away from a good fight, but you’re respectful and diplomatic and a true ambassador for the primary industries. Jenny, you hit the ground running, and working with you has been great.

But, last but not least, two friends that have genuinely become my brothers, Fletcher and Darroch, so completely different—and I couldn’t underscore that enough—to each other, but both so loyal, humble, and genuine. I’ve had so much fun working with you both, laughing so much at times I’ve had tears coming down my legs. You both work your arses off and give everything to what you do. You are the unsung heroes, and I will truly miss catching up with you guys every day.

In conclusion—oh, crikey, I got it in—finally, I want to thank the system for giving all New Zealanders a chance to represent their communities, their people, their support, and their ideas. Democracy may not be perfect, but it sure beats everything else. This term, I had the chance to go to Uganda, Lesotho, and South Africa, leading a delegation from New Zealand as the executive member of the Commonwealth Parliamentary Association with the Hon Maggie Barry, who I’ll be staying in the House to listen to straight after this—I’m staying with you, ma’am, yeah; great friend—and Anahila Kanongata’a-Suisuiki—did I say it right? I’ve been practising, girl!—and Wendy Hart. It was there that I realised that at times, politics in New Zealand can seem petty and childish, with MPs being over-pedantic and making unnecessary, snide, and mean comments to one another—and that’s just the MPs; don’t get me started on the “meania”, aka the fourth estate. However, I realised that petty politics was far better than the AK-47 politics that parts of Africa and the world experience on a sometimes daily basis and that a difference of opinion doesn’t wind you upside down in a ditch or missing to be never seen again.

To that end, I can say I’m proud to be a New Zealander and proud of our country. I’m proud of our people, and I’m proud of our history. We need Kiwis with passion, with drive, and with experience in this place, so step up and get involved. It will change your life. To New Zealand, I truly thank you. Thank you very much.

[Applause]

Order! [Interruption] Order! I’m just going to do something slightly unusual and indicate to the House that at the conclusion of the Hon Maggie Barry’s valedictory speech, the House will be suspended for the dinner break, which means that we don’t need to wait, and we won’t automatically finish at 6 o’clock.

Thank you, Mr Speaker. E Te Whare, tēnā koe. E ngā mana, e ngā reo, e ngā iwi, e ngā hau e whā, tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou katoa. To the leaders, to the many voices, and to all the diverse people and communities of the four winds, I honour and respect and greet you all.

I will begin by acknowledging my family and friends here in the public gallery. Many who have come to this Chamber tonight to witness my final speech were also here for my maiden speech. I am grateful for your ongoing love, friendship, and support. It has been my honour to serve the people of the North Shore, and I thank them from the bottom of my heart for giving me the opportunity and for having enough confidence in me to elect me three times, for trusting me to represent the interests of their beloved community since 2011. In particular, I thank Gary and Leslie Monk for their ongoing friendship and support. It has meant a lot to me. To the president, Peter Goodfellow, and the board member Alastair Bell, for all their unquestioning help and loyalty, thank you. To Don McKinnon, a mentor and friend, and, of course, Lady Clare McKinnon, thank you. I acknowledge David McKeown, who’s been an outstanding North Shore electorate chair, a man of integrity and great fairness. I’m grateful for all he’s done for me and for all of North Shore National, and I’m also very glad he’ll be there to support the new candidate, Simon Watts, who is here in the gallery tonight.

I wish Simon all the very best for the election as, of course, I do all my talented and highly competent National Party MPs and colleagues. They will thrive, I am sure, under the competent and dynamic leadership team of Judith Collins and Gerry Brownlee. I’ll be campaigning right through until election day to contribute to a National victory. So don’t worry, team. I won’t be slackening off.

To be an effective MP, of course, it is vital to have the right people walking and working cooperatively alongside you. I acknowledge at this point my staff who are here in the gallery, Miriam Wiley, Jack Boltar, and the indefatigable Pat Humphries. They have certainly been the three musketeers, and I thank you for your skills, your energy, and your loyalty. Monika Miller was for seven years alongside me as my electorate agent in Takapuna, and Sally Guinness was with me from day one in here in Parliament, and in charge of our Beehive team, Gay and Alex, Scratch, Brent, and Kayla, et al.

I have always been a hard worker, and I have high standards and expectations of myself, as I do of anyone who works for me. The job of an MP is far too important not to have highly competent and dedicated staff, and I was fortunate to have worked with two of the very best. I thank you, Monika and Sally, wholeheartedly for your loyalty and for always going the extra mile.

The most constant and significant influence on my political life has been my good friend Peter Kiely. It was indeed serendipitous that I was made member of Parliament for the very electorate where Peter lives. There was an outside chance it might reflect badly on him if I didn’t do well. So he’s always taken a keen interest in my wellbeing and has kept me safe from harm. Peter, I thank you for your friendship, your support, and your wise advice from the beginning until the end.

As I said in my maiden speech, this parliamentary precinct is part of my old hood. Thorndon is my tūrangawaewae. Dad was an accountant at the railways, and my mother’s florist shop was just a few doors up from here on Molesworth Street. Our family home was around the corner on Tinakori Road, and I went to the primary school next to the church on Hill Street where my parents were married and buried from. Growing up, these leafy grounds of Parliament were part of my everyday childhood landscape, and, having now spent the best part of my 50s here as an MP, you might say I haven’t come very far. But today it feels a little bit like I’ve come full circle as this chapter in my life now comes to an end.

I had been planning to wear the same frock for my valedictory as I had for my maiden speech, but, alas, it seemed to have shrunk rather a lot, unlike its owner, who should have done a lot less Bellamy’s and Copperfield’s and a lot more nil by mouth and exercised steps. But I have gained so much more than just a couple of kilograms here, in my time in Parliament. Having been in the media, examining politics closely for 30-odd years before stepping up to be an MP, I was well aware of how rare it is for members to be able to choose their time of leaving, as I am doing after six years in Government, three as a backbencher and three as a Minister inside Cabinet, and now a final term in Opposition.

I’ve been here through good times and through tragedies—the earthquakes, global financial crisis, mosque shootings, and now the COVID challenge. At its best, I think this Parliament delivered in a way that our team of 5 million New Zealanders can be very proud of. But, at its worst, being in Parliament can be frustrating, dehumanising, and brutal. As we’ve all been reminded recently, the pressures that come with the privilege of being in the service of the public can take a heavy toll on MPs and on their families. Please don’t be too quick to judge. It’s a tough life in here, tougher than you might think from the outside, and I think that the long hours and the unrelenting 24/7 scrutiny adds up to the sort of life that doesn’t suit everyone.

In this place, you do need a loyal subtribe of your own where you can take shelter from the storms. An essential part of my survival strategy has been the weekly get-together with my “class of 2011” intake year group. Thank you all for those hundreds of Wednesday nights in trusted company, trying to make some sense of it all. It’s still work in progress, of course. I value the honesty and the camaraderie, if not always the food. Goldie’s coleslaw toasted sandwiches—they are not height of the cuisine that I’ve been used to, but good on you, Goldie. That’s how he keeps so thin, I suppose.

Look, I’m not what you might call a career politician, like the predecessor, perhaps, who spoke before me. I didn’t sign on for a 30-year lag with a gold watch at the end, although I am looking forward to getting my souvenir traditional farewell silver tray soon. I have unbridled admiration for those stayers with stamina—my old friend and father of the House with the big brain and the big heart, Dr Nick Smith; our ever ebullient and fast on his feet deputy leader, the nimble Gerry Brownlee—both are National’s lifers, and we need their parliamentary debating skills, their institutional knowledge, as well as their strong sense of fairness in this House.

For my part, I was raised to be a participant, and not so much an observer or a bystander. I was expected to contribute to the community and to try to help those less fortunate. I didn’t join the armed forces as my grandfather and father had done in the two world wars. Instead, my contribution to serving my country, when the time was right for me, was to stand for public office. The notion of service might be seen by some as rather quaint and old-fashioned, but to me it has meant trying to be a voice for the vulnerable, for the people who don’t have a voice in this House. I’ve wanted to speak up for our seniors suffering silently with elder abuse, and to strongly advocate as well for the survival of the critically endangered plants and birds that partly define who we are as New Zealanders.

I acknowledge John Key. Thank you, sir, for believing in me and backing me from the start, and for the trifecta of portfolios you gave me on my birthday in 2014. It was the best present ever—or so far, anyway. The commemorations of World War II coincided with my time as the Minister for Arts, Culture and Heritage. I was privileged to represent my country on many formal occasions, perhaps most memorably, at the Western Front battlefields. It was a moving experience reading the Ode of Remembrance at the Menin Gate in Belgium, where, almost every night since 1929, they have sounded the bugle for The Last Post and recited the ode to express their gratitude and to remember the sacrifices of the fallen, including some 12,500 New Zealand soldiers buried there.

I will never forget the sadness, standing in the windswept, empty car park of a Belgian cheese factory in September 2015. There was no marker, nor memorial, to show the significance of that place, which was the battle site of New Zealand’s worst ever day of military loss. One year later, I was able to return to Passchendaele and unveil the first of many Ngā Tapuwae plinths, as part of our footsteps in the Anzac Trails, which tell the stories of our courageous soldiers of the Great War. It was also a proud moment for me as the MP for North Shore to dig in the first plant in New Zealand’s memorial garden at Passchendaele, part of a project that had been driven by a determined group of my fellow Devonport RSA members, Chris Mullane and Mike Pritchard amongst them. It was a bronze flax, just in case you were wondering.

With my lifelong interest in plants and nature, a highlight of my political life was as the Minister of Conservation responsible for Predator Free 2050. We launched it four years ago this week, and at the heart of National’s bold vision to save our precious vulnerable national species, to achieve that goal, we can and must eradicate the unwanted eco-invaders—the rats, the stoats, and the possums—who don’t belong here and are eating our songbirds and our taonga plant species to the brink of extinction.

Sir Paul Callaghan said getting rid of the pests was essential, but it would be our Apollo moon shot, and he was right. The late Sir Rob Fenwick, who I first met on a television garden show 30 years ago, and who had a profound influence on my thinking, was a visionary who made an enormous contribution and helped convert our distant moon shot prospect into something down to earth and well within reach. We are, of course, only the custodians of this land. We are the kaitiaki, the guardians, of our grandchildren’s natural heritage. We owe it to them to do better and to try harder to save our kiwis and our other endangered native species. I encourage people to put aside their prejudices about genetic modification and also prejudices about 1080. There is no time to waste.

I’ve enjoyed being part of National’s most effective policy advisory group, the Bluegreens, and, at the annual forum earlier this year, I was humbled to be given the inaugural Takahē Award for tireless work encouraging all New Zealanders. Thanks to Chris Severne and the Bluegreens for all you have done. I hope that in my time here, I have made a worthwhile contribution to preserving our natural heritage. I acknowledge the Department of Conservation’s (DOC’s) greatest director-general, Lou Sanson. DOC is in his DNA, and he’s been the right man for the times to lead New Zealand’s conservation heroes and warriors.

One of the most sobering realisations as Minister for Seniors for three years was knowing the extent of the abuse and the neglect of our elderly. We would not be the country we are today without their skills and without their hard work and toil and their wisdom. For those people who have come before us, we truly do stand on their shoulders, and yet why is it that 70,000 of them over the age of 65 say they have been the victims of physical, psychological, or financial abuse?

I don’t believe we value our seniors enough, and I don’t believe that as a society we are doing enough. We need to do more to keep them safe, and that’s often from their own families.

I know, from my own experience with my mother, Agnes, and her 10-year journey with dementia, how important it is to put the person at the heart of our policy decisions. It’s a philosophy I’ve tried very hard not to ever lose sight of, as an electorate MP for North Shore as well as a Minister.

My concern for the vulnerable and the elderly is at the heart of my opposition to a proposed law change to allow euthanasia and assisted suicide. For more than 20 years since the death of my father, I have been involved with end-of-life care as patron of Mary Potter Hospice and, later, of Hospice New Zealand. I chaired 28 days of public hearings into the euthanasia bill, and I’ve heard and I understand that people want more and different choices at the end of their lives and to have their suffering eased.

New Zealand has, simply, not done well enough in the care for the dying, and we must do better, which is why I have put together, with the palliative care community, a member’s bill to guarantee and enshrine New Zealanders’ access to world-class palliative care wherever and whenever they need it. The member’s bill is now in the ballot in the name of my friend and colleague Simon O’Connor.

Properly funded end of life care is what needs to happen before, in my opinion, we push the nuclear button on the option of euthanasia. I acknowledge Sir Bill English, along with Lady Mary English and Professors Sinead Donnelly and Rod McLeod; it’s been a great privilege to work with you over a long number of years in our opposition to euthanasia, and I know that we all hope the public will vote against that referendum on assisted suicide at the upcoming election.

In the 10 years I have been in politics, my son, Joe, has grown from beginning in college to being a university graduate, and, as I said in my maiden speech and reaffirm here tonight, Joe has taught me more about myself and about life than anyone else in the world ever has. I thank him for being him, and how proud I am of the fine young man he has become. I know his father, Paddy—alongside him, here in the gallery tonight—shares that same pride in our son.

Your life is not your own when you’re an MP, and that’s as it should be for a role as important as this one. But I’ve missed, now, enough family events and milestones, and the time is right for me to get together and get stuck into the bucket list with my best friend and my husband, Grant. We first met doing Outward Bound, and I knew then that he was the man I could go into the jungle with—I could trust him implicitly. We’ve certainly been in the parliamentary jungle together for the best part of 10 years, and he has never once failed nor faltered. He has always had enormous faith in me, and for that I am hugely grateful. In politics, as in life, I am excited about the prospect of walking alongside him in this next chapter of our lives together.

My time in this place has been short, and yet sometimes it seems an eternity. You don’t get everything right every time, and you can’t always get everything that you hope for and dream and strive for, but I know that I have worked and fought hard, tried my best, and not given up on the issues that are important to me. Whether I have succeeded or not is up to others to decide.

I have no regrets. I’ve done my dash, and I’m leaving Parliament with my integrity intact and in the certain knowledge that being the National Party’s MP for North Shore has been a rare privilege and a lifetime’s highlight. I thank you. Fare thee well. Haere rā.

[Applause]

Sitting suspended from 6.05 p.m. to 7.30 p.m.