Hog-Tie That Kangeroo Down Sport

Dear Friday
G’day cobber and hog-tie that kangaroo down sport.
I reckon we in the great state of Ohio and you good folk down there in New Zealand have a lot in common. Sure we don’t have kangaroos and you don’t have grizzlies (I think), but the way I look at it folk is folk all over the world (except in Muslim countries) and the more folk talk to each other and share what brings them together the more peace we will have in the world.
Hi, my name is Mitch Mantell and like you I work in the media. I am the editor of the Freeport Bugle, right here in Freeport Ohio. I have a reporting staff of three, including my wife Mandy Mantell, and a readership of most everybody in town—which numbers about 245. I also run the local radio station, KSF—“The Sound of the Free” and am the morning DJ.
I sure would like to know more about you. So I hope you will get back to me on that.
You may not know it, but New Zealand appears a lot on our televisions these days, particularly John Oliver’s Last Week Tonight.  Your prime minister, John Key, is a favorite, and your Steven Joyce got a mention because of that dildo in the face thing. As far as I know we have only one dildo in Freeport (Margaret Fraptor’s) so nobody will be throwing that away in a hurry.
Talking of dildos: Donald Trump. What do you folks down there think about him? I guess you are likely to be fairly divided on him. He certainly polarizes us over here. Freeport is Republican through and through, but even here there are folk for him and folk agin him. I reckon I sit on the fence (which gives me and Margaret something in common, Ha Ha) and I think he is a sound businessman. But President? The jury is out. On the good side, he is not going to touch our guns and his immigration policy—I like his thinking on Mexicans and Muslims. We had a Mexican here in town  a few years ago and although his restaurant was okay there wasn’t much else to like about him. Never had a Muslim. You got any Muslims and Mexicans down there? On the bad side, I don’t see Mr Trump lasting the distance—really, I don’t. I reckon he would get bored at that job. He might find a few Muslim countries to bomb, but there are only so many of those and as Billy-Ray Johnson up there on Smoky Ridge says, if you can’t look varmints  in the eye while blasting them it just ain’t sport. So, I reckon it is no use having the likes of Donald Trump as the President of our great nation if we can’t have him for long. I think Ted Cruz is the better bet. Lasts longer and I like his thinking on gays—not that there are a lot of gays in Freeport. Not no more.
Anyways, I’ll just get out and vote like most folk and I guess the result will be God’s hands. I have more immediate things to do, like writing tomorrow’s lead story on Mrs Silvester and her giant pussy—the state champion three years running. We are right proud of that.
So, I sure hope to receive a reply from downunder. I might even publish it in the newspaper because folk here don’t know too much about New Zealand, other than dildos and boomerangs We can’t all be editors—Ha Ha.
Write soon and God Bless The United States of America and the Great Nation of New Zealand.
Yours truly
Mitch Mantell
Editor, Freeport Bugle.
PS: From one editor to another, you have spelt Friday wrong—an I not a Y. :)

When Whetu Calls: On Winston Peters

New Zealand First leader Winston Peters is the new MP for the Northland electorate, the electorate in which I now reside. I haven’t met him, I have no reason to. But my friend Whetu has, and he has a reason. Here is what transpired.

ME (Whetu): Kia Ora, Bro.
HE (Winnie): Good morning.
ME: Choice you sees me, ‘cause I wasn’t one of those fellas whose voted for youse.
HE: As the new Member of Parliament for Northland I see it as my job to represent all the people of Northland—Maori, Pakeha, Everybody. Northland has been neglected for too         long by this Government. The people of Northland have voted me in to send a clear message to John Key and his cronies in Wellington.
ME: So, we don’t have to use email then? Choice!
HE: What can I do for you? I have an important appointment.
ME: I want to knows what happened to the two miles.
HE: Two miles? What two miles?
ME: You knows Ninety Mile Beach?
HE: Yes.
ME: It isn’t.
HE: Isn’t what?
ME: Ninety miles.
HE: What on earth are you talking about? This is a waste of my time. I have a message to…
ME: I been on my mate’s computer and I looks it up on that Wiki thing and it says that Ninety Mile Beach is really eighty-eight miles.
HE: So?
ME: Sos, I want to know where the other two miles went.
HE: What???
ME: I think those Pakeha fellas took it and me and my mates wants compo…compaps…compon…money for it.
HE: Compensation.
ME: That’s it! Youse choice with words.
HE: Look, I haven’t time for this. My job is to send a clear message to Wellington. I have no time for you—or your mates. I have an important appointment.
ME: Whats more important than ours two miles?
HE: My hairdresser.

It's Just Not Cricket

Did you see it? A surprisingly large number of sports commentators apparently didn’t. Or perhaps they did see it, but won’t admit to seeing it, so that they don’t have to talk about it.
I am talking about the ICC Cricket World Cup Opening Ceremony miss-performed in Christchurch last night. In my view, and in retrospect God knows why I viewed it, it was New Zealand’s most cringe-inducing television travesty since Ernie Leonard’s and Glyn Tucker’s Club Show in 1979.  The two-hour plus show was amateurish, patronising, ill conceived and, largely, irrelevant. Okay, so why does this upset me? Does it matter that I am upset. Probably not. Except that if it was, as hyped, seen by one billion viewers world-wide (which I seriously doubt) it was unacceptable as a representation of this country. And, long after I thought we as a people had got long beyond this, we were dumbed-down, patronised and presented with an immaturity not seen on television since the hideous days of the 80s. Some specific points:
·      The pre-show opened with a Sri Lankan dance troupe, hardly representative of this country and about as visually striking as Gerry Brownlie performing the Time Warp.
·      The next “act” was a Bollywood dance troupe featuring front and centre an overweight New Zealand blonde woman whose midriff was the only thing wobbling in time with the music.
·      We were then treated to some nondescript female singer, and a song that’s sole raison d'être appeared to be that it was written in Christchurch and sung originally by Christine Aquilera. Who cares?
·      All of the presenters read off hand-held cue cards. Very head-boy’s speech from our secondary school days of the 80s. Couldn’t they have learnt their lines, or at least been cued through their earpieces. Where was the technology?
·      Jeremy Wells? Really?
·      The interminable references to the Christchurch earthquakes. Can we have nothing in Christchurch these days that does not mention them? Sorry, but—please—let’s move on and stop patronising that city.
·      Tall towers like some medieval siege machines, each representing one of the New Zealand playing venues and each having a New Zealand sporting “celebrity” on top of it. The Hawkes Bay celebrity: “Not a lot of people know that Napier has the National Aquarium where you can see lots of fish” and Canterbury cricket legend Chris Harris on top of the Eden Park tower? WTF?
·      Bringing out our Prime Minister as the extra man to play backyard cricket. He looked uncomfortable. We were uncomfortable. And this from a country that has a seat on the Security Council. Seriously?
·      Sir Richard Hadlee trying to look good-humoured and fun-filled, rather than the grumpy old curmudgeon he really is.
·      The Richie McCaw, Stephen Fleming high five fail. All over the news this morning.
I could go on. But won’t. Let’s just get on with the cricket.
And let’s leave it with a positive. Two positives. Just to prove that I am not too a grumpy old curmudgeon. Sole Mio was great (predictably) and Australia’s ceremony was worse. Way worse.

Our Gift to America

Kim Dotcom has well and truly overstayed his welcome. The perception of him as a big lovable bear much maligned by American business is gone. The same can be said of Nicky Hager whose ridiculous books seemingly owe more to innuendo and vagaries than substantive facts. Put the two together and one is reminded of Laurel and Hardy, and just not in physical resemblance. They, too, were buffoons.
I was away for the election and where I was the New Zealand election was not mentioned, so I had to bring it up. In a vain attempt to elicit interest and empathise with America and Americans, I mentioned that our popular prime minister John Key had an embryonic and empathetic relationship with their president Barrack Obama and the two regularly played golf together.  That just drew what I thought was an unnecessarily churlish response: everybody plays golf with Barrack Obama. Okay, let’s start again. Have you heard of the All Blacks? No. Sir Edmund Hillary? Who? Kim Dotcom? Is he for real? No, but let’s not go there. And there the breakfast conversation ended, with the pancakes still to be served. It is often said of Americans that they know little and care less for anything outside the United States. I believe that to be largely true. One of my early conversations (with a shuttle driver in New York) went like this:
HE: Where you from Bud?
ME: New Zealand.
HE: Noo Zealand? Wow.
ME: Yep.
HE: What language you folk speak there?
But strike them when they are not hungry and hanging out for pancakes (or tips) and you will find Americans warm and friendly and engaging. They can also be genuinely interested in you and your country. My shuttle driver again:
HE: What football you folk play?
ME: Rugby.
HE: Rugby? Wow. Well, I never.
ME: Never played it?
HE: Never heard of it.
So, if the starting point is that they don’t know of rugby or of the All Blacks, there is little point in pursuing discussion about New Zealand.  The Knowledge vacuum is simply too vast. Besides, my mission was to enjoy their country—which I did—not educate it—which I didn’t.
It saddens me however that the starting (and end) point should be the All Blacks and rugby.
I believe we have much more of substance in this great country of ours.
Much more that we should and should share with the world.
Much we could and should give, to America in particular.
Something they want.
Kim Dotcom.

Wogistan Greets Kim

Things I'll never get to see...

One night last week I heard what I thought to be at least a couple of kiwi on my front lawn. By the time I got out of bed to see them my dogs had chased them off. I hope I get another opportunity and if I continue to live in the Far North with its surprisingly healthy population of kiwis then I no doubt will. But upon pondering the perspicacity of my Kiwi I thought of things I doubt I will ever see—not in my lifetime and perhaps not in yours. Here is my list:
1.     A movie sequel to Fifty Shades of Grey. The trailer for the first movie in the excruciating trilogy is bad enough and they want to make two more?
2.     Auckland councillors forgoing their business-class perks or declining invitations to visit some other world’s most liveable cites such as in Nepal and Finland.
3.     Len Brown serving a third term.
4.     A fourth term for John Key.
5.     A David Cunliffe led government.
6.     Any international traction of credibility for Eastern Ukrainian’s self-styled freedom fighters.
7.     Ditto Vladimir Putin.
8.     An end to Treaty settlements.
9.     A world without Mike Hosking—not that we are trying hard.
10. A world without Paul Henry—and we are trying hard.
11. More convenient folding of the otherwise stunning Kleenex Flushable Cleansing Cloths.
12. A funnier programme than QI.
13. An end to the high-rotate run of the once funny Cigna Funeral Cover commercial.
14. An end to the high-rotate run of the once funny Kim Dotcom.
15. An end to the high-rotate run of the never funny John Banks—sorry, we have already seen that.
16. A ministerial resignation between now and the election
17. Anyone still reading Mills and Boon.
18. An admission by Hone Harawira that, in the end, he is just “funning us.”
19. Kiwi sheep placenta anywhere near my face.
20.  Gerry Brownlee hopping over any more fences.

A Messy Affair

Election 2014 is shaping up to be a messy affair. I personally don’t believe it will be as close a result as some say, but if the events of the last fortnight are anything to go by it will certainly be a knockdown drag-out election and as such one of the most interesting of recent times.
I worked on a number of general elections through the 70s and 80s. The first was in 1972, which saw Norman Kirk sweep into power and the last (to date) was 1984 and the advent of David Lange. Lange and Kirk were both larger than life characters full of charisma—but their similarities beyond that were a little less than you may think. What they did have in common was the diminutive and malevolent spectre of Muldoon. And it was Muldoon who added the fire and the interest to those and all the intervening elections. I worked for him on 1975’s “Dancing Cossacks” campaign and whilst I am thankful to be involved with one of the most pioneering if polarising political campaigns in New Zealand history, my memories of Muldoon are less than savoury.
I have little memory of Palmer, Bolger, Shipley and even Clark. There was a blandness there that was reflected in most of their elections. John Key is not much different in that regard although I think I am right in thinking he is the most popular of those listed. Bland could also describe Cunliffe.
Key v Cunliffe? Hardly riveting stuff.
So, why do I think this may be one of the most interesting elections since the Muldoon era? Well, it is not because of what we know (or are told), it is because of what we may not know. The events of recent weeks—the relentless pursuit of Judith Collins, the (strangely less relentless) revelations regarding Maurice Williamson and the peculiar and as yet unexplained shift by Labour from Williamson to Woodhouse all hint that there is a lot in the background that is not being revealed and may well be being held in reserve. Further gist to that particular mill came yesterday with John Key’s rather less than veiled threat of “Don’t Go There” to Labour over the cash for access issue. Maybe that issue, too, will die a hurried death.
Nevertheless one is left with the impression that there is no shortage of replacement revelations to be rolled out in the weeks and months ahead. There seems to be some formidable strategies in play here—from both parties. The danger for both however is that they overplay the dirty politics card. From what I am hearing many of us have had a gutsful of it already.
But then again politicians can’t help themselves, can they? It’s their world.

Absolutely Positive

I am blessed to have a niece, a goddaughter and several friends who write letters. Not emails, though they do that as well, but snail-mail. It is a delight to receive such letters; there is of course the tactile sensation and also the implicit care, consideration and affection of such a missive. Usually I reply in kind and have bought special stationery fit for purpose. I wrote two letters this morning, both complimenting companies on their service. One is an electrician in Helensville, whom you will probably never meet and never need—unfortunate, because he is the best I have come across. But the other, an auto mechanic and tyre merchant in Silverdale called Cranefield Automotive, is well worth a try if you live in the vicinity. Both provide service well beyond expectation and, in the case of the mechanic, a complimentary bottle of wine! I have had a good run with service lately—Sam’s Butchery, also in Silverdale, is another and his bacon (thanks Rachel) is to die for. The common element with all of them is that they are good people with positive outlooks. That I find refreshing because it is the nature and role of my primary occupation to deal with the exact opposite. I saw both natures exhibited with some intensity on television this week. It was the Campbell versus Key debate over the GCSB. I am not saying Campbell is bad person nor am I saying I support Key in all he does, but on this occasion Campbell came across as churlish and even childish at times, whereas Teflon John came across as positively (literally) ebullient. No wonder he (Key) offered to come back to the show again; he obviously enjoyed himself so much on this occasion, and even Campbell if he puts a positive spin on it will I think welcome that as an opportunity to redeem himself. I look forward to round two. Anyway, try the two companies I mentioned and if you want the name of my electrician I’ll throw that in too—positively.

El Walrus v El Teflon

At the beginning of the Kim Dotcom affair we were told implicitly that there was something dark and devious about Mr Dotcom and his operations. Whilst that may be the case and we are yet to hear any evidence to the contrary, recent revelations would suggest “dark and devious” better describes the behaviours of our own organisations and individuals. First it was the Police and the paucity of evidence upon which they based their search warrants, then was the alleged rorting and befuddled behaviour of John Banks. More recently there was the revelations about the role of our super-intelligence agency the Government Communications Security Bureau. And now, even our Prime Minister Teflon John is being hit, and it is starting to stick. Incidentally when Googling Kim Dotcom for Fryday, Google informed me that others who had made the same search had also searched for John Banks, John Key and Julian Assange; now that is a fast-developing unholy trinity if there was one. Strangely, the other search subject was Steve Wozniak, who is not even on the same planet as the others, let alone the same ilk. This affair has not ended here. A not always prescient Fryday invited you as far back as May 4 to watch this space; more was coming. More is coming. Sadly, we won’t have TVNZ's top investigative reporter around to investigate it. Just Kidding.

A Soft Election

John Key tells me on his Facebook page that he is starting his morning with a sausage sizzle in Taupo. I am drawn to the obvious conclusion John having his sausage in such a place is far more edifying than his having a hamburger in Hamilton. I have no idea how Phil (me with confidence not) Goff is starting his day—though I can understand if it is with a degree of tiredness and resignation. I imagine that both leaders are greeting this last day of formal electioneering with relief that it is nearly over. I know I am. The aspirations of the leading candidates have hardly been inspirational for the rest of us. I find it interesting and little disquieting that most interest in tomorrow’s result lies with the performance of the secondary parties—most notably The Greens, New Zealand First, Mana and, making a late surge—those happy clappers of the new right, The Conservatives. Perhaps that is how it should be. After the hard twelve months we have been through, to wind up the year with a soft little election to play with may just be what we need and deserve. I am up for it.

The Executive Committee
International Rugby Board
Huguenot House
35—38 St Stephen’s Green
Dublin 2
Ireland.


Dear Sirs

We refer to the matter of the presentation of the Webb Ellis Cup at the conclusion of the Rugby World Cup (9 October 2011 inst).

Television footage of the event and personal observation from members at the event offer clear evidence of unauthorised use of our token (more commonly though erroneously called a handshake) by non-Masons, namely IRB chairman Bernard Lapasset, New Zealand prime minster John Key and All Black captain Richard McCaw.

The use of the token in such a manner in a public arena, and indeed in private context, is entirely inappropriate and demeaning to the United Grand Lodge of England and its affiliated Lodges worldwide.

Freemasonry is a fraternal organisation with origins in the late 16th to early 17th century. Freemasonry now exists in various forms all over the world, with a membership estimated at around six million, including approximately 150,000 under the jurisdictions of the Grand Lodge of Scotland and Grand Lodge of Ireland, over a quarter of a million under the jurisdiction of the United Grand Lodge of England and just under two million in the United States.

The actions of the International Rugby Board (IRB) and the individuals involved are an affront to the venerable status of all lodges.

Under the circumstances, we have no option but to impose upon the International Rugby Board and the three individuals named a collective fine of Ten thousand Euro (10,000).

The monies to be paid to this organisation no later than 13 November 2011 inst.

An invoice is attached. We accept Visa, but not cheques.


R.A.H.Marrow Esq
The Grand Secretary
United Lodge of England
Freemason's Hall
Gt Queen Street
London

PS: Bernard—looking forward to catching up with you at the Rugby League Four Nations, Dick.


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Dear John: Goff

Rt Hon John Key Prime Minister
Care of Distribution Services
Parliament Buildings
Wellington 6160.

Dear John

When one sees you in person or on television one is irrevocably drawn to the image of the, I think Cheshire, cat that has lapped up the cream. There we have it: the perpetual grin, the air of innocence, and the rub my tummy appeal.
Well, that may appeal to the electorate, John, and clearly it does if we are to believe the polls, which I do not. Never have. But it will not win you the election, and I will tell you why.
You see John, what you do not understand about politics is that you cannot treat it as a hobby, which you do. Politics is a full-time profession best left to those who treat it as such and with finesse, skill and respect. A life in politics can be a hard one. Difficult. Challenging. One has to be born into it, ideally, like me, through an academic route. One cannot come to it as an afterthought. An extension of a Parnell cocktail party.
Success in politics requires more than a pretty wife and a planking son.
But your attitude and your approach are not the sole reasons you will not win the next election. There is something far more important. Something you and your advisors have missed and will now find too late to recover.
It is this…
John, you underestimate the intelligence of the electorate. They see through you. They see that you are shallow. They see beyond that perpetual grin and know that it masks a disenfranchisement from the electorate. A desire, if you will, to be among your own kind. Not this kind.
Not my kind.
And this is why you will not win this election John. And why I will. People see me. They know me. They like me. They know I am one of them. Indeed, I am often asked if I am one of them.
They know that I have depth. That I bring to the political table—the mum and dad table of New Zealand—a breadth of understanding, a formidable intellectual equity, a vision and the means to achieve it.
The people of New Zealand are intelligent. They will not be swayed by your superficiality. They want cogent, vigorous politics and confidence that they have a leader with the intellectual vigour to carry them out. They don’t see that in you John. For all your spin-doctors, and for Steven standing in the wings, they haven’t seen that. You haven’t seen that. And it is too late now.
You are on notice. Next week I begin my campaign. Presidential in style. It presents me as who I am. And you are not. Strong. Determined. Brave. A visionary. A statesman. A leader. A future.
It starts with my appearance on Dancing with the Stars.


Sincerely



Rt Hon Phil Goff
Leader of the Opposition.

King Bee A

Dear Liz
I may call you Liz, may I? I feel I know you so well and should we ever meet I am certain we would have an immediate rapport. Of course you would need to take my word—and me being a politician you may have some difficulty with that “Ha Ha”—but I am generally considered here in New Zealand as most approachable and, to use the vernacular, something of stud muffin.
Now, I trust I am not being too forward in writing to you like this. I have read that you are in some form of relationship with the Australian cricketer Shane Warne, but I have also heard that you are nothing more than text mates. I of course am married—more honesty—happily so, the Woman’s weekly continually tells me.
But I have always been able to differentiate between love and lust. I compartmentalise and it would be true to say that until such time as Bronnie takes to wearing dresses held together with safety pins, as you so graphically did some years ago (I still have the photos) she will remain in the love department while you will reign over that of lust.
Liz, you are hot!
Of course one is talking here of unrequited lust. There can be no expectation here of me, a mere prime minister, entering into anything untoward with the most beautifully proportioned, most seductively-eyed, most sensual woman in the world. Any requiting must by necessity be vicarious. And if Bronnie is woken at night by my sighing and groaning, one does not want to disabuse her of the notion that I am simply thinking of Hone Harawira.
Of course I am not; he is not hot.
I hope you will forgive this dewy-eyed boy—this man with a heart of lust—venturing forward in such a manner. Further, I hope that you will allow me to write to you again. Little missives from the king bee in the beehive.
I remain your devoted fan,
(Not so little) John.

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Brace Yourself

Prime Minister John Key is sporting a new holographic wristband that claims to improve performance and keep the body at an optimal "ionic balance" with "free-flowing energy pathways". Now, I also wear bracelets, two of them, given to me by my wife. But as much as I appreciate and love them (and her) they are not the swept up “New Age” bracelets that Mr Key is sporting. What on earth is ionic balance? And would it not be more apt for a politician, particularly a prime minister, to deal to iconic or even ironic balance? Still it does demonstrate that Mr Key is a new age man in touch and comfortable with his feminine side. Which makes something of an ironic balance, given that a former prime minister always looked more comfortable with her male side.

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Naked Opaque

You have no doubt heard someone described as having penetrating eyes. It seems a favourite phrase of trash novels and women’s magazines. I am yet to meet anyone with truly penetrating eyes. The closest is Helen Clark, whose eyes are so cold they have the penetrative effect of ice cream on sensitive teeth. But that’s not quite the same as the novelists’ declaratory intent. Some people are also, we are told, gifted with the ability to see right through us. We are on more sure ground here—I for one am easy to see through I am told. Anyone can do it, which makes it particularly difficult for me in my profession as a spin-doctor and is probably why I may occasionally go a little over the top on the enigmatic bit; which is all a facade—you see through that, don’t you? But there are some among us who are less penetrating than grating and the reason is: they are so superficial as to be transparent. One such is Rodney Hide—naked ambition without the brains to pull it off. Another is Hone Harawira—on the make and out for the take. “Bishop” Brian Tamaki is an obvious example and no amount of protestations to the contrary will convince me that he is anything but a two-bit opportunist. His henchman, Richard Lewis, is worse but somehow more honest in his deviousness. And it is that honesty that can, somewhat paradoxically, make someone more opaque. Take John Key—I think Mr Key is basically honest (still) so it is hard to work out why he is doing the job he is now doing and what his ambitions are. George W. Bush is another. Bush, despite all that was written about him, is basically honest—he doesn’t have the skill or the intellect to be anything but. The more we saw through him, the more we were forced to ask what the f**k is he all about? You get the point? Naked opaque. Perhaps it is the profession I am in but the honest among us make me uncomfortable. Go away.