The Handsome Sampson Diaries: The One That Sucks.

It is just as well no-one will read this diary.
If they did,  Aucklanders would really know what I think of them.
They suck.
We should call this place Suckland. First off reason is Suckland’s reaction to the 9.9% rates increase. For goodness sake, don’t they realise that is only an average? Some will get a lesser increase; some higher. But the average will get what they deserve—an average. Ironic, really, because what they get in return is an average council (Ha Ha, Bev would like that).
But that is not my fault. The council are mean people and it seems all but the Pennies have dropped on me. What about that proposed move to build a new Council Chamber? Yes, they all wanted it. Once. They all said they didn’t like the four-minute walk down to the Town Hall, especially when it was raining and especially when it was with me with all that abuse and all. What was it you all said—it was bad enough being rained on, but shat upon too? Worth spending a few million dollars of ratepayer money to avoid that. That is what you said.
Now you say you didn’t say it. And now I have to say I didn’t say it. And it is left to the CEO to say he said it, because I said to say it because I didn’t want me having to say I said it. Or having said to him to say it.
Why is it that these days nobody takes anything I say (even if I didn’t say it) at face value? Answer me that Bevan. Oh, you are not reading this are you? Wish you were. I wish a lot of things. I wish Bernard Osman would stop picking on me. I wish Stephen Joyce would go away. I wish Ports of Auckland would go away. I wish Auckland Transport would go away (and give me a carpark at Henderson). I wish I had my time over again with Bevan—over and over again.
Most of all, I wish everyone would go away and leave me alone. Just because I am an elected official, does that make you think you own me? Obviously, you think it does. But, be warned (even though you are not reading this. Are you?).
If you persist on picking on me, I will not stand again. And what will you get? John Banks?
You deserve him.
Suck on that Suckland.

Whetu Calls: Gangnam Style

News this week that ads by online electricity store Powershop featuring Mao Zedong dancing Gangnam style were pulled by Auckland Transport because they might offend New Zealand’s 120,000 Chinese immigrants set me thinking. Would that move not pose a greater risk of offending the 50 million South Koreans from whom Gangnam style originated? And what of our old friends of the Democratic Republic of Wogistan (123 Bruce Springsteen Boulevard-3rd door on the right) who have adopted Gangnam style as their national dance? I believe they are writing to Auckland Transport. But there are some of blissful ignorance for whom this move passed unnoticed. Those not easily offended. Maori for one; Whetu for one. It had to happen. The knock: ME: Hello. HE: Bro. ME: What do you want, and how much will it cost? HE: Me? ME: He…You! HE: Me? Nothin’. Just come to say me and the bros in morning. ME: Morning? HE: Ten Guitars dead, Man. ME: Dead? Mourning. HE: Whatever. Gone. Got new song. ME: What? HE: Haka. ME: The Haka is not new. HE: Gangnam style. Want to see it? ME: Okay. HE: Two bucks. ME: Of course. Here you go. HE: Ready? ME: Ready. HE: Ka mate, ka mate! ka ora! ka ora! Ka mate! ka mate! ka ora! ka ora! Tēnei te tangata pūhuruhuru Nāna nei i tiki mai whakawhiti te rā Ā, upane! ka upane! Ā, upane, ka upane, whiti te ra! Seeeexxxxyyyy Lady. Gangnam style! Well of course you had to see it to believe it.