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Dear John Key,

You probably don’t know me, John.

I’m not like you, you see. I’m not the sort of person you generally hang out with. I’m not a rich, pinstripe suit-wearing banker or a slick corporate lobbyist.

I’m just a regular guy, John. The sort of guy your government fucked over with its policies of the last four years.

So that’s why I’m writing you this overwrought letter, John. Because I don’t like the direction you’re taking my country. And I don’t like you.

You must be wondering why I keep ending sentences with your name, John. You see, in my mind, it indicates that I’m speaking to you in a condescending, reproving manner. It makes me feel like I’m positioning myself on the moral high ground. It makes me feel assertive and righteous, John.

These sorts of letters are a common trope in most western countries, John. Most leaders, including Obama, have to deal with a dozen or so per year. But because there exists a thing called a “Dear John letter”, which Wikipedia defines as “a letter written to a husband or boyfriend by his spouse or significant other to inform him their relationship is over,” I feel even more clever and smug when I write your name, John.

And have no illusions about the fact that our relationship is indeed over, John. Despite passionately opposing your party since before you entered Parliament, I totally kept an open mind about your government. But the policies you implemented, such as increasing student loan repayments from 10% to 12%, were worse than I could have imagined. So yes, John, you and I are over.

I know you were an investment banker, John. So it’s not surprising that you can only see the bottom line, and not the more subtle human element, of the decisions you make. And that’s why you’re selling our assets, John. Flogging off the family silver that my forefathers took such pride in. Giving it all away to the Chinese.

You’re also not keen on the idea of a universal student allowance, are you John? You say it’s “unaffordable”. There’s that trademark focus on the dollar bills again. I could lecture you about “People Before Profit”, John. But you probably wouldn’t listen.

So thanks for the wine, John. But no thanks for the policies. And the majority of the nation is going to say a resounding “no thanks” to your government in 2014.

Enjoy your last two years in power, John. And enjoy trying to sleep at night knowing what you’ve done to our country.