New Zealand has always tolerated a bit of theatre in local politics. This year, in Wellington though, it is more like the theatre tolerating the politics. The city’s mayoral race reads like a casting call, not just because an actual clown is on the ballot. 

Pennywize the Rewilding Clown promises moa-mounted commuters and wants to turn the Basin Reserve back into a swamp. The Silly Hat candidate suggests lazy rivers down Courtenay Place. They will also improve the weather by redirecting the wind to Upper Hutt. He is running because “the clowns currently running this country lack what it takes to deliver.” Fine. It is part of Wellington’s political lore. 

The real problem is not clowns posing as politicians but supposedly serious candidates auditioning for the same genre. One promises a three-year rate freeze, funded by cutting unspecified “waste.” Another withdrew after proposing to fire 800 staff and transform Wellington into the “AI centre of the South Pacific.” 

Meanwhile, Scott “Scoot” Caldwell, a genuine candidate, is also, well, a little theatre. He only visited Wellington for the first time in June and still talks up “Auckland solutions for Wellington problems,” complete with campaign shots that look north of the Remutaka Ranges. He makes a confident pitch for someone who appears to live in Auckland.  

Here lies the problem. When a real candidate can sound this not-from-here yet plausible, the line between costume and policy blurs again.  

Out of place Andrew Little captures this perfectly. A former Labour leader and Cabinet minister. He is now standing next to candidates joking about alternate worlds or discussing economically fantastical scenarios. You can see it in his eyes, that “how did I get here?” look. This is someone who once managed billion-dollar budgets, now debating moa transport networks. 

Parody candidates are becoming harder to distinguish from real ones. The capital once prided itself on being quirky. Quirky was wind, earthquakes and trying to be the coolest little capital. This feels more like what happens when quirky drinks too much craft beer and decides to run for office.  

There is a difference between vision and fantasy.  

The lesson is not to ban whimsy from politics. It is to prize savvy policy over whatever this is. Those prepared to put in the effort, look past the costumes, and read the numbers may still find a few credible adults in the room. 

Wellington does not need a new storyline. It needs a working script and a council that can actually read it. 

Either way, Wellington gets the democracy it deserves.