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.