A Brash Act

I was today going to forward the penultimate letter from George Bush to God; I also toyed with the idea of paying tribute to Hamilton in honour of its acquisition of the V8. But all was overtaken by yesterday’s announcement that Don Brash was resigning.

You have to feel sorry for media. Well, you don’t have to; I certainly don’t, and that is despite last week being accorded the honour of “best media personality” but I digress. You have to feel sorry for the media when they have a surfeit of stories. They have the stadium debate (which, have you noticed, if now described more accurately as the stadium debacle?) and they have the Brash resignation. Which to run with? Both. Which to give prominence to? That’s the question.

So, let’s talk League.

Tomorrow night the Kiwis will beat Australia to retain the Champion’s Trophy. No question, no qualification. Bluey has the boys believing in themselves and all the old hoodoo of forty minute football is a thing of the past There are also cracks showing in the previously formidable and impervious monolith that was the Australia league team. Their backs will sparkle but their forwards will have no answer for the battle up front and that’s where the game will be fought and, in the Aussies’ case, lost.

Brash is a good bloke. He was in his own arena the Beckham of banking. But politics is not a game of finesse such as soccer; it is simple and it is brutal. Like League. Brash was never going to make it playing that game, not against Cullen and Clark; he was outweighed, he was out-muscled, he was out-played and inevitably he was in the end out the door. But does that necessarily mean the other side won?

No, I think not. To carry the sporting analogy one final step: I think that in being instrumental in removing Brash the Labour Party may, just may, have scored an own goal. It won’t be so much in who replaces Brash—that won’t be the key—it will be that the present Labour front row of Clark, Cullen, Mallard et al will be seen finally for what they are: brutal, vindictive and vicious

Walk The Line

Lying in bed on such a marvellous morning as this I was hard pressed to find any reason to rise and do battle with the political has-beens, wanna-bes and never-will-bes who inhabit Rodney here north of Auckland. But there are reasons—good ones: my boss John Law is often challenging but always invigorating; his PA Vicki Shanley is glorious, gracious and totally devoid of veneer. Today there is also the prospect of a leisurely drive to the wine country of Matakana, and later a few drinks with crusty old journos who by 7.00 tonight will have solved all the ills of the world. So, it is not all bad.

Nevertheless, this week I was mortified. And before anybody such as .33 rushes to say that is an inevitable consequence of getting married, let me say it was something to do with Rodney. As many of you know, I work for the Rodney District Council, and each year we at the council poll our residents to find out what they think of us. This year we did well on the provision of services such as libraries, parks etc; quality of life in Rodney scored rather well too; our mayor (John Law) scored highly.

But in the attitude and behaviour of council we did less well. As a governing body, we instilled little confidence in the community. Our administration was perceived as lacking and our general administration not up to scratch. Of course there are arguments in rebuttal to this, and one can question some of the methodology of the poll. Also and even so such a poll is valuable in highlighting deficiencies and giving us improvement goals to work toward.

So, why am I upset; why am I traumatised? I am because of one single line in the report. One line of 7 words, 33 characters. It nearly destroyed me. It is this:

“Overall, you did less well than Hamilton.”