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John Key is always welcome, Helen Clark never.

John Key is always welcome, Helen Clark never.

Just because you’re the Prime Minister doesn’t mean the welcome mat is always laid out for you.

Renowned Swiss chef Dietmar Sawyer (formerly of Five City Road and Top of the Town in Auckland) once made a name for himself in Sydney by spurning then Australian Prime Minister Paul Keating from his swanky Chifley Square restaurant Forty One.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know Keating or even like him, as Sawyer later explained. The thing is, Keating didn’t have a reservation. Other people had made reservations months in advance, Sawyer said, and he wasn’t going to choose anyone over a random person—whoever that random person was.

I admired this about Dietmar. I could see where he was coming from. But I had a more active position, at least in terms of escorting politicians out of the building. I turned them away to they could appear. I banned them in advance.

Helen Clark was one of the banned when she was Prime Minister. She was simply not welcomed. When David Cunliffe stood for leadership of the Labor Party, I made it clear that he too would not be dealt with. (Fortunately, he was spared this shame.)

I also flatly refused to take an order from Kim Dotcom when he tried to get a table. In his case, it wasn’t just his personality or political beliefs that repelled me. We have never been a bring-your-own restaurant and he had the audacity to demand that he bring his own couch. Do you see me moving furniture around to make room for the sofa? Sofa! For this person?

I have never regretted my position. In fact, it has probably earned me more fans than enemies. Example: I was in a Chinese fruit store a few days after the Dotcom story broke, and this woman—a complete stranger—said, “I’m so glad you got rid of that big, fat man.”

I told her that she could come to me any time.

Some prime ministers have been lucky. John Key and his wife Bronagh were welcome regular guests when he was an MP, a habit that continued when he assumed the role of Prime Minister. Antoine was like a local: he and Bronagh lived within walking distance of 333 Parnell Road, although once he got the big seat in Parliament they had to travel in a Crown car, accompanied by members of the Foreign Service. On such occasions we had to reduce the number of other guests to give him and his entourage sufficient space and privacy. But he always gave us advance warning, so that no one was denied the right to dinner in the evening.

Let me also add that the Honorable Sir John Phillip Key GNZM AC was one of my favorite clients. By the way, another former New Zealand Prime Minister recently told me that the National Party views Antoine’s Auckland headquarters as its headquarters.

I was told that this was their hideout. Again, they weren’t just here for the food; it was our culture of discretion.

A heavily abridged chapter from a new memoir. Let them eat tripe Geraldine Jones (Bateman, $35), a memoir by Tony Astle, former owner of Antoine’s restaurant in Parnell, Auckland, as told.