A Town on the Edge

Christchurch is a town that lives in the edge of a precipice. I know this because I am in it and I have observed this. It is a town—not a city—that for all its self-perpetuating superiority and self-aggrandisement lacks confidence. It is like Muhammad Ali, should he float like a butterfly and sting like a butterfly. Christchurch is on the edge. They have their purple patches; but they are terrified of the sodden, brown muddy mess they most easily can fall in to. They find safety in numbers. They have their much vaunted team successes: The Crusaders, Canterbury cricket, The Pulse. But are they yet to find one individual successful sportsperson? No. Safety in numbers. Christchurch, if it cannot hide behind strength of numbers and a team ethos, would rather just…hide. It does so in its gardens. I love its gardens, but one gets the feeling that they are created by aficionados who would rather hide from the real world, particularly Auckland, and not come out from behind the daffodils unless wrenched. One gets the feeling that rather paradoxically they would enjoy being wrenched. Christchurch is like that—a veneer. Like Hamilton. Christchurch presents itself to the world as one thing and a contented complacent world accepts that. I cannot. What I see is a superficial smugness hiding a deep malady of frustration and vexation that for all its protestations of culture, history and class Christchurch is not, after all and in the final reckoning, Auckland.

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A Taste of Perfection

I remember a very funny Hancock’s Half Hour (is there any other kind?) called The Bedsitter in which Tony picks up Charles Dickens’ Tale of Two Cities. Tony reads the first line, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times”, and then sets the book aside, explaining, “If he (Dickens) can’t make up his mind then he (Hancock) can’t be bothered.” In this episode and in many others Tony Hancock, in his shows and in life, was on a constant quest to improve himself. In many of the classic episodes of his radio and television shows he did reach perfection but the quest continued and eventually killed him. Most of us see and accept perfection as an unattainable goal. Nevertheless a few still try to achieve it and that trial can consume them. You probably know some. I do. My own quest for perfection is a little more pragmatic but just as pricey: Lagavulin. The 16-year-old Lagavulin is the single most beautiful single malt scotch in the world. RKN, who I think now reads this column will dispute that but he is in the wrong. Lagavulin is what I call a layered scotch—it has layers of sensation that repeatedly bid entrance long after you have consumed and swallowed your first dram. It is this repetition, akin to “Bishop” Tamaki’s requests for money, that makes Lagavuhlin the gang-bang of all scotches. However, it exacts a pretty exacting set of criteria; it should only be drunk late at night while one is alone and musing, it should be drunk from a proper scotch glass and with (at most) a dash of water, and ideally should be followed by sex. And with regard to the last, I should stress that it is only the Lagavulin that should be sampled alone, not the sex. Do all of that and you will have a taste of perfection. I get through a fair few bottles of it myself, and you can read into that what you will. Cheers!

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Bishop to Rort

The latest revelations—and revelations is seemingly the only link Destiny Church has to The Bible—about Bishop Tamaki come as no surprise to Fryday readers.
Fryday has maintained from the outset that Tamaki’s “church” is little more than a rort and the Christian principles Tamaki espouses on television and elsewhere are impurely cosmetic.
But Fryday believes the end is nigh for Tamaki and his henchman Richard Lewis. The weight of media and public opinion is having an effect: Pastors are starting to mutiny, church members are leaving and revenue is declining.
Amidst his latest pontifications, Tamaki says that God has a plan to restore the lost wealth to the church. Apparently God’s plan comprises installing eftpos machines in the church.
We will never see the back of Bishop Tamaki (and believe me the back of his hair cut looks as bad as the front) but Fryday believes we will see a lessening of his power, his influence…and his victims.
Thank God.

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