I resolved over the season of goodwill to become newly compassionate, to harbour no animosity toward man or entity, and to not dwell on any disappointment of anyone or anything.
In other words, not pick on Hamilton
However, like many New Year resolutions mine lasted only a matter of days, and for this I blame Fairfax Media’s Stuff news-site. Today Stuff published a story that Hamilton is being beset by a foul but as yet unidentified stench wafting over the suburbs. The stench has been variously described as smelling like rotten eggs, a pile of dead cows, wet chicken manure and a dead cat. Or all of the above and all of which would be eminently practical in Hamilton.
Waikato Regional Council officers have followed their noses but have not found the source. So, Hamilton—a city whose previous sole claim to fame was its proximity to Matamata—has a new if unwanted distinction.
The only resolution to the problem I can suggest to Hamiltonians is that if they cannot banish the stench they should at least try and replace it. Get another; one that is perhaps just as foreign to them, but far more appetising: the sweet, sweet smell of success, of foresight and purpose, of vibrancy and vitality, of religious tolerance.
We can send it down from Auckland if you want.
No comments:
Post a Comment