What’s even worse than a days-long PR crisis as a mayoral candidate? Getting owned by Sean Plunket.
Wellington mayoral candidate Ray Chung was under fire in a way he had never experienced before. Donors were abandoning him, and his support was cratering. The root cause: An email he sent to council colleagues two and a half years ago detailing salacious and unverified rumours about Wellington mayor Tory Whanau having a drug-fuelled sexcapade with his neighbour’s son.
It was a wildly inappropriate topic for a work email and almost certainly defamatory. Whanau has denied the claims and said she can prove she was at a different event on the night in question.
Instead of apologising, Chung doubled down. “There has been a concerted campaign against me,” he said in a video released on Sunday. “An email I sent privately over two and a half years ago was passed to the media. This was done deliberately to discredit me.”
After being deliberately discredited with his own words, Chung desperately needed a way to shore up his base of support and focus everything in the right area. So, on Monday morning, he spoke to Sean Plunket live on The Platform. Chung would have fairly expected this to be a friendly interview, given that Plunket has previously broadcast an entirely different unfounded rumour about Tory Whanau. But as the interview went on, Plunket grew frustrated at Chung’s complete inability to grasp why he was in trouble, and his repeated insistence on making everything worse.
It was 17 minutes of mayhem and majesty. Here’s the lowlights.
“It sounds like you’ve had a rugged weekend,” Plunket begins, lending a sympathetic ear.
“I have had a very rugged weekend. I’ve never had so many days in a row like this,” Chung replies.
“Joel MacManus [hey, that’s me!] tells me you’re a windbag and you’ve never been fit for office,” Plunket says. “Have you seen The Spinoff’s piece this morning? It’s pretty remarkable. I’d have to say it’s one of the most blatantly biased pieces of political writing I’ve ever seen in all my life, and coming from such a pimply faced little stuck-up millennial, it’s amazing.”
For the record, Windbag is the name of my column, not a comment on Ray Chung. But I stand by the rest. Also, I’m now feeling self-conscious about my skincare routine. Open to any and all recommendations from Plunket.
Plunket wants Chung to go back to the start and explain the whole ordeal to his listeners: “OK, three years ago, you’re approached by a next-door neighbour of yours who tells you what?”
Having just got himself into trouble for repeating an unfounded and probably defamatory story in an email – and trying to play the matter down because it happened two and a half years ago – you might think Chung would be smart enough not to repeat the same allegations live on air. But that’s giving him far too much credit.
“We were walking with our dogs and [my neighbour] stopped me and as usual, you have a bit of a chat with your neighbours and he said ‘oh, let me tell you about something’,” Chung begins.
“A good story’s a fast story, Ray,” Plunket urges, already losing patience.
Chung continues: “He said they met up with two women in a bar and went back to their apartment.”
“This guy did, your neighbour?”
“No, no, his son. They went back to the apartment and had a fun night.”
Plunket can’t resist calling bullshit. “It seems odd that your neighbour would come up to you and say, ‘Hey, my son scored the other night and here are the details. ‘”
Ray’s brain seems to short-circuit here. “….um…. weeeelll….. It was nothing that I expected.”
Chung then fluffs around for a while until he finally gets to his big reveal that one of the women his neighbour’s son supposedly slept with was the mayor of Wellington.
“Ray, what’s wrong with that? She’s not married,” Plunket says. At first, it seems like he is playing devil’s advocate. But then it becomes clear that he is genuinely exasperated.
“Well, when we walked back, we thought ‘My god, if this hits the news media…”
“What? That the mayor of Wellington is sexually active and she’s a single woman, and she decides occasionally to have sex with people? Why is that a scandal?” Plunket is incredulous.
Then, Chung decides to do the political equivalent of tripping over your shoelaces directly into a cow pat: “Well it wasn’t just sex, it was drugs as well.”
That thumping you hear is Chung’s lawyer concussing himself against his own desk.
Plunket appears to roll his eyes and gives a barely audible sigh. “Tell us about the drugs,” he says.
Chung stumbles on. “OK, as I was told, when they were at the pub, [Whanau] asked the two boys if they were interested in some drugs.”
“When you say boys, can we define boys?” Plunket says.
“I think about 21.”
“That’s not a boy, that’s a grown ass man,” Plunket says, crossing his arms. Chung argues for a while about the definition of a boy. Plunket is having none of it. “Doesn’t matter. 21. Get a beer, fight and die for your country, and sleep with who you want to.”
Time to bring things back on track. “OK, so she offered them drugs?” Plunket asks.
“Yep. And they went back to the apartment and, um, you know, had a good evening.”
“And did they do drugs, Ray?”
“Well, I don’t know, but I assume they did because that’s what they went back for.”
The key quote there, of course, is: “I DON’T KNOW.”
“Did you ever talk to the son to get the story firsthand?” Plunket continues.
“No, no, he wasn’t there,” Chung admits.
Chung spends a few minutes giving a meandering account about NZ Herald reporter David Fisher calling him for the story. Plunket gets bored and steers things back to the juicy bits.
“Where did pendulous breasts come from?” he asks.
“Where did what come from?”
“Pendulous breasts. Where did that phrase come from?”
“Oh, I was just told exactly what they said and how they described it.”
“So your neighbour’s son told you she had pendulous breasts?” Plunket says with the withering tone of Kim Hill in her prime. “That doesn’t sound like the sort of language a 21-year-old would use, Ray. That’s one part of the story that doesn’t stack up”.
Chung laughs. “Heh heh, yep, I don’t know, I was just repeating everything that I was told.”
Repeating everything you’re told without doing any effort to verify is exactly the problem. But understanding that seems beyond him.
“Would you send such an email again?” Plunket asks.
“Never, never. I’ve learned my lesson,” Chung says, after spending 16 minutes repeating all the problematic information that was in the original email, live on air. “But I’ve also learned another even more important lesson, and that’s don’t trust anyone.”
“Oh, Ray, you can trust me,” Plunket croons.
“Can I? Can I?” Chung asks. He certainly shouldn’t have.
With that, Plunket ends the interview and turns to the text machine. He reads two messages from his loyal listeners:
“God, this Ray Chung sounds like a moron. Hopefully, Wellington has dodged a bullet.”
“Sean, Chung sounds like a loose cannon. He’s the best the right have? God help you.”