As a child of the '70s, the Saint is somewhat saddened by today's news over the sudden demise of both Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson.
Both were icons of the 1970s. The decade that taste forgot - as someone so cruelly, but accurately once opined.
However, the Jackson 5 - in which young Mick was the undisputed star; and Charlie's Angels - where Farrah Fawcett and her hair-do ruled supreme; were both iconic and powerful representations of that particular decade for me and my peers.
What 70's child - particularly of the male persuasion - will ever forget Farah's permanent sun-kissed look and how she made red swimsuits oh so sexy. Or our pangs of envy and jealousy over her marriage to another 1970's super star - and all-round lucky bugger - the Six Million dollar man Lee Majors.
Or what about the endless debates over the respective musical abilities of the Jackson 5 versus the toothy Osmond Family. And especially the talents of the gifted Michael over the sickly and sarine Donny! (Mind you Marie was quite hot, but no where near the smoking hotness of Farrah Fawcett's Jill from Charlies Angels!).
Somehow both the Fabulous Farrah and the Mercurial Michael were apt symbols for the superficiality of the 1970s, when both were at the peak of their fame - although MJ's run also went through most of the 80s and some of the 90s as well.
Sadly, they both became examples of what not to do when you have fame and money, and unwittingly ended up as parodies of the celebrity-worshipping culture that the 1970s began.
The lovely Farrah never really regained her 70s demi-god status after walking out on Charlie and the other Angels in the latter part of the decade. Her reputation was not helped much by making a host of bad, made-for-TV movies. Or ditching the bionic man and taking up with washed-up, serial cheat Ryan O'Neal. The only thing she appeared to ever successfully do with O'Neal was produce acres of tabloid headlines and a loser, druggie of a son called Redmond.
Meanwhile, Michael Jackson left his four siblings behind to embark on a hugely successful musical career, that set the standard for others in the industry to aspire to. Yet his clearly eccentric life and kiddy fiddling habits also helped keep the tabloids in business. Unfortunately the Prince of Pop ended up having more plastic surgery than most of California's Hollywood set put together, which left him looking like a 50 year-old, freaky and weird-looking, pedophile - which is ironically exactly how he ended up!
I guess both Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson are good reasons why we should not put people - especially so-called celebrities - up on pedestals, as they more than likely will come crashing down and bring our dreams with with them.
Still, the Saint can look back on the 70s with warm memories - despite the passing of these two icons. He can be thankful that not all his innocent childhood illusions from this period have being totally shattered. Which would be the case if say Colonel Hogan from Hogan's Heroes was ever found murdered in a seedy motel, following a kinky sex hookup or if they discovered Kane from Kung Fu hanging dead in a Bangkok hotel room with a rope around his dick.
Now that really would be just too much - eh Grasshopper!
Friday, June 26, 2009
Sunday, June 21, 2009
The French Connection and the changing face of our national game
Now that the first All Black tests of the year are over, the Saint feels like reflecting a little on the current state of our national game.
Rugby in New Zealand used to be not so much a sport, but more of a religion. However, it would be fair to say the recently completed French series highlights just how much the game has changed in New Zealand over the past few years.
This very average French team - remember they only came third or fourth in the most recent six nations championship, a competition in which New Zealanders like to bag as weak - managed to draw the two match test series with the All Blacks one-all. These Frenchies have come and gone in the space of a week. And in that time, they have taken away the silverware (the Dave Gallagher Trophy) and the All Black's reputation as being hard to beat at home, smashed up our forward pack and left our backline in tatters. And all we have managed to do was further enhance New Zealand's reputation as an attractive tourist destination with five losers beating up one of the French players on his way back to the hotel after a night celebrating in Wellington.
Yet the only reaction from the NZ public appears to be a muted acceptance that the All Blacks managed to square the series, or even buy into the coaches pathetic excuses about New Zealand only having a 'young and inexperienced' team.
To the Saint's way of thinking this is the kind attitude is why rugby today has lost much of the allure and mystique it held in yesteryear. Blame the advent of professionalism, or the fact that rugby is now played seemingly 12-months of the year, or that commercialisation of game into a multi-million dollar business, or the fact that the today's players are just plain soft and money hungry.
If you ever wanted a metaphor to see just how much the game has actually changed over the years; then nothing more portrayed this than the big plates of sushi in the All Black's changing room after last Saturday's game! Can you ever imagine players of the past like Frank Oliver, Mark Shaw, John Ashworth or any of their ilk trudging off the paddock after a hard fought game against the Frogs and happily chowing down on raw fish and rice, wrapped in seaweed?
But it is just not the sushi. Something magical has disappeared from the game that once ruled but also at one time (the South African tour of 1981) divided the country in half. Gone are the days when touring sides would come to NZ and spend two to three months - not just playing test matches - but travelling up and down the country and taking on every province, or a combination of smaller teams, as well as NZ Universities, the junior All Blacks and NZ Maori.
By the time a visiting team had left our shores; we not only knew who each member of the touring squad was, but what village and club they hailed from, their position, their proper jobs (remember these were the days when rugby was not a fulltime occupation) and number of games played on tour.
The Saint well remembers the touring British Lions side of 1977. Names like Andy Irvine, Phil Bennett, Steve Fenwick, Bill Beaumont, JJ Williams and Moss Keenan are still etched deeply in the memory. He will never forget the Lion's epic test series with the All Blacks. NZ won it 3-1, but this does not tell the full story. Things such as how the fine careers of All Black greats such as Grant Batty, Sid Going and Ian Kirkpatrick were ended. Or how the name Colin Farrell will be forever remembered as the worst fullback to have ever donned the hallowed black jersey! And how new talents such as Graham Mourie, Stu Wilson and Garry Knight were discovered.
It was during this series that Andy Irvine's place kicking for touch or the Lions' forwards beating up our scrum so badly that we had to invent three-man scrums to compete were etched into the brain.
Other premonitions include the feisty Grant Batty's 60 metre intercept try that won us the first test and then the mustachioed dynamo's shock announcement of his immediate retirement from international rugby due to a chronic knee injury. Or the handsome third test victory in Dunedin, where from out of deepest darkest central Otago came a big kicking fullback named Bevan Wilson. Or the sight of All Black No.8 Laurie Knight scoring in the corner to secure a narrow victory for New Zealand in the fourth and final test to be greeted with a handshake from an estactic supporter who had rushed on to Eden Park to personally thank the big Poverty Bay doctor for clinching the all-important series win.
These memories are still vivid in my mind more than 30 years later. Yet the recent French series is less than 30 hours old, and I am struggling to remember any of the players' names (from either team) or any highlights from the test matches - except for the sublime try scored by the French winger in the second test.
I guess it is a good thing that rugby no longer commands such a strong pull over our little country's collective conscious. Maybe as a nation we have grown up a bit - after all rugby is only a game. Yet so too has much of the romance disappeared from our national game.
Somehow, I seriously doubt that any 10-year old boy from today will be reminiscing in 30-odd years time - in a rather poorly written and non-read blog - about the fabulous 2009 French rugby tour of New Zealand!
Oh well - Ce l'est vie !
Rugby in New Zealand used to be not so much a sport, but more of a religion. However, it would be fair to say the recently completed French series highlights just how much the game has changed in New Zealand over the past few years.
This very average French team - remember they only came third or fourth in the most recent six nations championship, a competition in which New Zealanders like to bag as weak - managed to draw the two match test series with the All Blacks one-all. These Frenchies have come and gone in the space of a week. And in that time, they have taken away the silverware (the Dave Gallagher Trophy) and the All Black's reputation as being hard to beat at home, smashed up our forward pack and left our backline in tatters. And all we have managed to do was further enhance New Zealand's reputation as an attractive tourist destination with five losers beating up one of the French players on his way back to the hotel after a night celebrating in Wellington.
Yet the only reaction from the NZ public appears to be a muted acceptance that the All Blacks managed to square the series, or even buy into the coaches pathetic excuses about New Zealand only having a 'young and inexperienced' team.
To the Saint's way of thinking this is the kind attitude is why rugby today has lost much of the allure and mystique it held in yesteryear. Blame the advent of professionalism, or the fact that rugby is now played seemingly 12-months of the year, or that commercialisation of game into a multi-million dollar business, or the fact that the today's players are just plain soft and money hungry.
If you ever wanted a metaphor to see just how much the game has actually changed over the years; then nothing more portrayed this than the big plates of sushi in the All Black's changing room after last Saturday's game! Can you ever imagine players of the past like Frank Oliver, Mark Shaw, John Ashworth or any of their ilk trudging off the paddock after a hard fought game against the Frogs and happily chowing down on raw fish and rice, wrapped in seaweed?
But it is just not the sushi. Something magical has disappeared from the game that once ruled but also at one time (the South African tour of 1981) divided the country in half. Gone are the days when touring sides would come to NZ and spend two to three months - not just playing test matches - but travelling up and down the country and taking on every province, or a combination of smaller teams, as well as NZ Universities, the junior All Blacks and NZ Maori.
By the time a visiting team had left our shores; we not only knew who each member of the touring squad was, but what village and club they hailed from, their position, their proper jobs (remember these were the days when rugby was not a fulltime occupation) and number of games played on tour.
The Saint well remembers the touring British Lions side of 1977. Names like Andy Irvine, Phil Bennett, Steve Fenwick, Bill Beaumont, JJ Williams and Moss Keenan are still etched deeply in the memory. He will never forget the Lion's epic test series with the All Blacks. NZ won it 3-1, but this does not tell the full story. Things such as how the fine careers of All Black greats such as Grant Batty, Sid Going and Ian Kirkpatrick were ended. Or how the name Colin Farrell will be forever remembered as the worst fullback to have ever donned the hallowed black jersey! And how new talents such as Graham Mourie, Stu Wilson and Garry Knight were discovered.
It was during this series that Andy Irvine's place kicking for touch or the Lions' forwards beating up our scrum so badly that we had to invent three-man scrums to compete were etched into the brain.
Other premonitions include the feisty Grant Batty's 60 metre intercept try that won us the first test and then the mustachioed dynamo's shock announcement of his immediate retirement from international rugby due to a chronic knee injury. Or the handsome third test victory in Dunedin, where from out of deepest darkest central Otago came a big kicking fullback named Bevan Wilson. Or the sight of All Black No.8 Laurie Knight scoring in the corner to secure a narrow victory for New Zealand in the fourth and final test to be greeted with a handshake from an estactic supporter who had rushed on to Eden Park to personally thank the big Poverty Bay doctor for clinching the all-important series win.
These memories are still vivid in my mind more than 30 years later. Yet the recent French series is less than 30 hours old, and I am struggling to remember any of the players' names (from either team) or any highlights from the test matches - except for the sublime try scored by the French winger in the second test.
I guess it is a good thing that rugby no longer commands such a strong pull over our little country's collective conscious. Maybe as a nation we have grown up a bit - after all rugby is only a game. Yet so too has much of the romance disappeared from our national game.
Somehow, I seriously doubt that any 10-year old boy from today will be reminiscing in 30-odd years time - in a rather poorly written and non-read blog - about the fabulous 2009 French rugby tour of New Zealand!
Oh well - Ce l'est vie !
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Leave osmosis to the trees
The Saint is no saint, but at least he can now admit when something is wrong - which is a big change from the past.
He has recently experienced the threat of being given the DCM - don't come Monday!
Apparently there are seven stages of loss or grief that a person will experience during such a time. These are: (1) Shock or Disbelief that it has occurred. (2) Denial where you refuse to accept it is over. (3) Bargaining... trying to reconcile the loss by making deals with your partner or even God. (4) Guilt - which is marked by regular thoughts of "if only I had done/or been . . . ". (5) Anger. (6) Depression. (7) And finally... Acceptance that your life will go on with meaning and hope. To be fair yours truly was oscillating back between steps 1-4 on a pretty regular basis.
Relationships are not easy - ain't that the truth. We all make mistakes some big, some small - but in the end these can add up. If you relationship is on a good footing it will withstand these speed bumps and you move on. However, if something is wrong, or all is not happy it will chip away at the foundations of your partnership like water on a sandstone - and eventually it will crumble. Just like Richard Worth rather unwittingly discovered, so too has the Saint found that saying 'sorry' - even when you genuinely mean it - will not cut it. However, unlike the aforementioned former Minister of the Crown, the Saint had not being throwing his pork sword all over the place.
However being a thoughtless dropkick and not thinking enough about your partner's feelings, or not being considerate enough is just as corrosive and limiting to a future of togetherness - as was chasing Labour Party harlots was for Dirty Dr Dick's political career.
What have I learnt? That I am a work in progress and need to always be on my guard for complacency and laziness - in all aspects of my life. That I need to be able to accept other people's decisions - even when I don't like them. And that I make mistakes and need to admit it when I am wrong. That I can ask for forgiveness, but should not automatically expect it.
For years the big black dog - or bouts of depression - has been a regular visitor of mine. In the past, my main coping mechanism has been to go into my shell and withdraw from the world for a while until things come right. Not the most wonderful method, but it was one that seemed to work for me. This might have been ok when I lived on my own, but a pretty dumb way to manage things when you are in a relationship.
As the old Telecom advertising campaign, fronted by Cockney actor Bob Hosking, use to say : "It is good to talk". People are not mind readers. If you are down, talk about it and explain how you are feeling. Others may not understand completely, but at least they might be able to get an idea of why you are disengaging from the world.
During these visits by the big black dog, life can be a bit like walking around in waist deep mud all the time. It is hard work and you often do and say things that are hard for normal people to understand or relate to. It is at these times, your nearest and dearest find the hardest - especially when the person they love is walking around like a mummy and about as communicative as a teenage boy!
This I now realise and see how this kind of behaviour can lead to your loved one telling you to head for the door and don't let it hit you on the arse on the way out.
However, luckily the Saint has learnt to open up a little more and let the management know that he is currently in a bit of a hole and needs some help to climb out of it. The good news is that she is happy to lend a hand and for that I am truly grateful. My life is all the better for having her in it.
So the big DCM, which was a reality, has been avoided by the Saint actually being able to honestly talk about things - instead of expecting other to know this by osmosis.
A word to the wise, leave the osmosis to the plants and tell those you need to how you are really feeling - as cockney Bob use to say all those years ago: "It really is good to talk."
He has recently experienced the threat of being given the DCM - don't come Monday!
Apparently there are seven stages of loss or grief that a person will experience during such a time. These are: (1) Shock or Disbelief that it has occurred. (2) Denial where you refuse to accept it is over. (3) Bargaining... trying to reconcile the loss by making deals with your partner or even God. (4) Guilt - which is marked by regular thoughts of "if only I had done/or been . . . ". (5) Anger. (6) Depression. (7) And finally... Acceptance that your life will go on with meaning and hope. To be fair yours truly was oscillating back between steps 1-4 on a pretty regular basis.
Relationships are not easy - ain't that the truth. We all make mistakes some big, some small - but in the end these can add up. If you relationship is on a good footing it will withstand these speed bumps and you move on. However, if something is wrong, or all is not happy it will chip away at the foundations of your partnership like water on a sandstone - and eventually it will crumble. Just like Richard Worth rather unwittingly discovered, so too has the Saint found that saying 'sorry' - even when you genuinely mean it - will not cut it. However, unlike the aforementioned former Minister of the Crown, the Saint had not being throwing his pork sword all over the place.
However being a thoughtless dropkick and not thinking enough about your partner's feelings, or not being considerate enough is just as corrosive and limiting to a future of togetherness - as was chasing Labour Party harlots was for Dirty Dr Dick's political career.
What have I learnt? That I am a work in progress and need to always be on my guard for complacency and laziness - in all aspects of my life. That I need to be able to accept other people's decisions - even when I don't like them. And that I make mistakes and need to admit it when I am wrong. That I can ask for forgiveness, but should not automatically expect it.
For years the big black dog - or bouts of depression - has been a regular visitor of mine. In the past, my main coping mechanism has been to go into my shell and withdraw from the world for a while until things come right. Not the most wonderful method, but it was one that seemed to work for me. This might have been ok when I lived on my own, but a pretty dumb way to manage things when you are in a relationship.
As the old Telecom advertising campaign, fronted by Cockney actor Bob Hosking, use to say : "It is good to talk". People are not mind readers. If you are down, talk about it and explain how you are feeling. Others may not understand completely, but at least they might be able to get an idea of why you are disengaging from the world.
During these visits by the big black dog, life can be a bit like walking around in waist deep mud all the time. It is hard work and you often do and say things that are hard for normal people to understand or relate to. It is at these times, your nearest and dearest find the hardest - especially when the person they love is walking around like a mummy and about as communicative as a teenage boy!
This I now realise and see how this kind of behaviour can lead to your loved one telling you to head for the door and don't let it hit you on the arse on the way out.
However, luckily the Saint has learnt to open up a little more and let the management know that he is currently in a bit of a hole and needs some help to climb out of it. The good news is that she is happy to lend a hand and for that I am truly grateful. My life is all the better for having her in it.
So the big DCM, which was a reality, has been avoided by the Saint actually being able to honestly talk about things - instead of expecting other to know this by osmosis.
A word to the wise, leave the osmosis to the plants and tell those you need to how you are really feeling - as cockney Bob use to say all those years ago: "It really is good to talk."
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Lee chips off some of the teflon
What a disaster Melissa Lee has turned out to be.
She came, she saw, she regularly put both feet in her mouth and blew any chance National had of taking Helen Clark’s old seat.
Her train wreck of a campaign for the Mt Albert by-election shows what a lightweight she really is. The Saint always had doubts about her ability and was somewhat surprised why Key and the Nat’s hierarchy decided to parachute her into Mt Albert as their preferred candidate. This will be a good reminder to Key and National that despite polling well nationally, they cannot make arrogant and silly decisions and expect the punters to back them unconditionally.
The reality is Mt Albert is one of the most Labour-leaning seats you can get in this country. In fact, you could put up a monkey with a red rosette on his chest and Mt Albert slawarts would vote for it. And - by plumping for the inanely boring and dull David Shearer - they have done exactly this!
Yet the Nats still believed that Melissa Lee could be a chance and that is why they picked her. This is a woman whose only claim to fame before her Mt Albert meltdown was to be voted the 50th sexiest female MP in the world (I am sorry, but if Lee is in the top 50 of the best looking female parliamentarians on planet earth – then numbers 51 down must have faces only their mothers could love!)
It was always going to be an uphill battle for National to win Mt Albert. They needed a smart candidate to run a flawless campaign and a reputation for hard work and humility to pull off a win. The only thing Melissa Lee managed to do to her reputation was to completely destroy it by shoving her foot, ankle, knee, leg – and on more than one occasion – her whole body into her mouth at regular intervals and with this went any chance of a National victory.
The Saint suggests the only reason Lee did not make a bigger fool of herself on the news each night, was that the media got distracted by the antics of her former colleague Richard Worth and his penchant for hiding the Salomi in various female ethnic minorities.
Winning Mt Albert was never going to mean much to the overall shape of New Zealand’s political landscape. However, the win for Shearer and Labour means Phil Goff gets to stay as that party’s ‘Phil in’ leader for a bit longer. While the hammering the Nats took means John Key’s teflon coat is now more slightly damaged in the public’s eye and Melissa Lee’s political future is about as bright as the deceased ministerial career of Richard Worth.
She came, she saw, she regularly put both feet in her mouth and blew any chance National had of taking Helen Clark’s old seat.
Her train wreck of a campaign for the Mt Albert by-election shows what a lightweight she really is. The Saint always had doubts about her ability and was somewhat surprised why Key and the Nat’s hierarchy decided to parachute her into Mt Albert as their preferred candidate. This will be a good reminder to Key and National that despite polling well nationally, they cannot make arrogant and silly decisions and expect the punters to back them unconditionally.
The reality is Mt Albert is one of the most Labour-leaning seats you can get in this country. In fact, you could put up a monkey with a red rosette on his chest and Mt Albert slawarts would vote for it. And - by plumping for the inanely boring and dull David Shearer - they have done exactly this!
Yet the Nats still believed that Melissa Lee could be a chance and that is why they picked her. This is a woman whose only claim to fame before her Mt Albert meltdown was to be voted the 50th sexiest female MP in the world (I am sorry, but if Lee is in the top 50 of the best looking female parliamentarians on planet earth – then numbers 51 down must have faces only their mothers could love!)
It was always going to be an uphill battle for National to win Mt Albert. They needed a smart candidate to run a flawless campaign and a reputation for hard work and humility to pull off a win. The only thing Melissa Lee managed to do to her reputation was to completely destroy it by shoving her foot, ankle, knee, leg – and on more than one occasion – her whole body into her mouth at regular intervals and with this went any chance of a National victory.
The Saint suggests the only reason Lee did not make a bigger fool of herself on the news each night, was that the media got distracted by the antics of her former colleague Richard Worth and his penchant for hiding the Salomi in various female ethnic minorities.
Winning Mt Albert was never going to mean much to the overall shape of New Zealand’s political landscape. However, the win for Shearer and Labour means Phil Goff gets to stay as that party’s ‘Phil in’ leader for a bit longer. While the hammering the Nats took means John Key’s teflon coat is now more slightly damaged in the public’s eye and Melissa Lee’s political future is about as bright as the deceased ministerial career of Richard Worth.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
The Bain of our lives
So, David Bain has being found not guilty of murdering his family back in 1994.
The Saint is not surprised at the jury's remarkably quick decision to set the opera-singing, geeky, former paper boy free.
Our judicial system is based on the concept of beyond all reasonable doubt. And even the most ardent of people who may have believed that David Bain was guilty (which the Saint admits to being one), would have to concede that after three months of hearing all the evidence in the latest trial, this case was riddled with doubt.
However, the fact remains that David Bain has being found not guilty and it is time for everyone to accept the verdict and move on. In reality, Bain has probably done more time than most murderers in this country anyway - so even if he did do it, he has paid his debt to society.
And to be fair, he does not look like posing much of a risk to the wider community nowadays - especially since Bain appears to have giving up wearing those hideously, ugly jerseys he was so fond of when arrested back in the 1990s!
And while the Saint has never being convinced of Bain's innocence, he has to doth his cap to the tenacity and commitment of Joe Karam for his unwavering support for Bain. To tell the truth, the Saint still harbours some resentment against Karam for defecting to League back in 1976 and leaving the All Blacks without a decent full back for the tour of South Africa that year. But hey, one does have to move on.
Well done Joe, you have backed David Bain to the hilt and put your money where your mouth is with your support. And it appears to be a genuine, mutual level of respect and affection between you and the man you helped set free.
I hope David Bain can now slip back to live an anonymous, crime free and happy life and no doubt Joe Karam and his other supporters will be a vital component in ensuring this happens.
Meanwhile, the Saint will also spare a thought for the five innocent members of David Bain's family who lost their lives on the that cold, Dunedin, spring morning 15 years ago. They paid the ultimate price and seem to have been too easily forgotten in all the ensuing publicity around this sad case. I hope they all now can rest in peace.
The Saint is not surprised at the jury's remarkably quick decision to set the opera-singing, geeky, former paper boy free.
Our judicial system is based on the concept of beyond all reasonable doubt. And even the most ardent of people who may have believed that David Bain was guilty (which the Saint admits to being one), would have to concede that after three months of hearing all the evidence in the latest trial, this case was riddled with doubt.
However, the fact remains that David Bain has being found not guilty and it is time for everyone to accept the verdict and move on. In reality, Bain has probably done more time than most murderers in this country anyway - so even if he did do it, he has paid his debt to society.
And to be fair, he does not look like posing much of a risk to the wider community nowadays - especially since Bain appears to have giving up wearing those hideously, ugly jerseys he was so fond of when arrested back in the 1990s!
And while the Saint has never being convinced of Bain's innocence, he has to doth his cap to the tenacity and commitment of Joe Karam for his unwavering support for Bain. To tell the truth, the Saint still harbours some resentment against Karam for defecting to League back in 1976 and leaving the All Blacks without a decent full back for the tour of South Africa that year. But hey, one does have to move on.
Well done Joe, you have backed David Bain to the hilt and put your money where your mouth is with your support. And it appears to be a genuine, mutual level of respect and affection between you and the man you helped set free.
I hope David Bain can now slip back to live an anonymous, crime free and happy life and no doubt Joe Karam and his other supporters will be a vital component in ensuring this happens.
Meanwhile, the Saint will also spare a thought for the five innocent members of David Bain's family who lost their lives on the that cold, Dunedin, spring morning 15 years ago. They paid the ultimate price and seem to have been too easily forgotten in all the ensuing publicity around this sad case. I hope they all now can rest in peace.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Key much better off being Worth-less
Like many others, the Saint will be intrigued to learn the exact details behind why 'Dirty' Dick Worth got the boot from Cabinet.
There is little doubt that 'Dr' Worth has been a prize Richard in the way he has behaved or more correctly misbehaved. However, the sad reality for the recently departed Minister is that he is no great loss to either the Cabinet, National Party caucus, or Parliament in general.
John Key's rather quick dismissal of the hapless Minister from Cabinet - and most likely from the National caucus as well - has made the PM look decisive and in control. It also allows Key to rid himself of one of his poorer performing Ministers and the opportunity to introduce fresh blood to both the Cabinet and Parliament.
In fact, the Saint suggests that the biggest political loser from the demise of 'Dr' Richard Worth - apart from the good 'doctor' himself - will probably be Phil Goff and the Labour Party. As Worth's pompous demeanor and born-to-rule, Tory toff attitude seemed to provide focus for Labour's attacks on John Key's Government. He also gave the opposition a sitting target to regularly take free pot shots over his clumsy performance.
Poor old Phil Goff - who while claiming that he does not want to make political capital out of the situation has spent the last 24 hours all over the media doing exactly that - even when he wins he loses. Just when he can claim a Minister's scalp and bragging rights over National, John Key comes out of it grinning like a Cheshire cat and with his reputation further enhanced in the public's mind - despite the infantile grumbling from some parts of the media for not giving them all the salacious details of the affair.
The truth is, that in spite having an impressive pedigree and great CV prior to entering Parliament, Richard Worth failed miserably to live up to his name - both literally and metaphorically speaking. The Saint reckons the not so good Dr Worth's political career will forever be associated with what he failed to achieve, rather than any actual achievements.
He will forever be known for losing the true blue National seat of Epsom to Rodney Hide, and buggering off for a camel ride in Egypt when he was supposed to be in that country commemorating the WW2 efforts of the Maori Battalion. This will go with his less than stellar Ministerial performance of trying to flog off his own business interests while on a trip to India.
The Saint suggests that Worth's political epitaph could be as the Minister of 'Cock Ups' - which would be entirely apt given the unfortunate nature of his demise!
Less kind souls, than the Saint, have even claimed to have met deeper puddles in the car park behind the Beehive than the former Minister of Internal Affairs - again a rather unfortunate title given the rumours about the unsavoury actions that led to his actual downfall!
There is little doubt that both the National Government and John Key are worth a whole lot more, for having a whole lot less 'Dr' Worth.
There is little doubt that 'Dr' Worth has been a prize Richard in the way he has behaved or more correctly misbehaved. However, the sad reality for the recently departed Minister is that he is no great loss to either the Cabinet, National Party caucus, or Parliament in general.
John Key's rather quick dismissal of the hapless Minister from Cabinet - and most likely from the National caucus as well - has made the PM look decisive and in control. It also allows Key to rid himself of one of his poorer performing Ministers and the opportunity to introduce fresh blood to both the Cabinet and Parliament.
In fact, the Saint suggests that the biggest political loser from the demise of 'Dr' Richard Worth - apart from the good 'doctor' himself - will probably be Phil Goff and the Labour Party. As Worth's pompous demeanor and born-to-rule, Tory toff attitude seemed to provide focus for Labour's attacks on John Key's Government. He also gave the opposition a sitting target to regularly take free pot shots over his clumsy performance.
Poor old Phil Goff - who while claiming that he does not want to make political capital out of the situation has spent the last 24 hours all over the media doing exactly that - even when he wins he loses. Just when he can claim a Minister's scalp and bragging rights over National, John Key comes out of it grinning like a Cheshire cat and with his reputation further enhanced in the public's mind - despite the infantile grumbling from some parts of the media for not giving them all the salacious details of the affair.
The truth is, that in spite having an impressive pedigree and great CV prior to entering Parliament, Richard Worth failed miserably to live up to his name - both literally and metaphorically speaking. The Saint reckons the not so good Dr Worth's political career will forever be associated with what he failed to achieve, rather than any actual achievements.
He will forever be known for losing the true blue National seat of Epsom to Rodney Hide, and buggering off for a camel ride in Egypt when he was supposed to be in that country commemorating the WW2 efforts of the Maori Battalion. This will go with his less than stellar Ministerial performance of trying to flog off his own business interests while on a trip to India.
The Saint suggests that Worth's political epitaph could be as the Minister of 'Cock Ups' - which would be entirely apt given the unfortunate nature of his demise!
Less kind souls, than the Saint, have even claimed to have met deeper puddles in the car park behind the Beehive than the former Minister of Internal Affairs - again a rather unfortunate title given the rumours about the unsavoury actions that led to his actual downfall!
There is little doubt that both the National Government and John Key are worth a whole lot more, for having a whole lot less 'Dr' Worth.
Monday, June 1, 2009
A tiger by the tail?
I am somewhat bemused at the howls of anguish - emanating from some quarters - about the decision to put down the tiger that mauled a man to death at a game park in Whangarei last week?
One is sorely tempted to ask just what planet do these detractors and animal lovers actually live on. And if these people live anywhere near me - could they please shift!
To the Saint, it seems the-powers-that-be made an immanently sensible call to put out of action - as quickly as possible - a wild beast that had just ripped a man apart before it struck again. However, some of the less enlightened inhabitants of this country, seem to think it is perfectly okay for a man-eating, big cat to be walking freely around a public enclosure... because 'that's what they do in the wild'.
Now without wanting to put too finer point on it, the Saint suggests this is the sort of logic why these kind of people should not be allowed to procreate. They say stupidity is hereditary and New Zealand as a country just cannot afford to have this level of outright wackiness in the general population. Mind you, we already do have the likes of Sue Bradford in Parliament, which proves that New Zealanders do give stupid people far too much of an opportunity in this country. However, back to the matter at hand, and the outcry over the sudden and early demise of the man-eating tiger. The Saint is unsure what exactly these so-called 'animal-lovers' [a disturbing thought at the acts of bestiality these people may get up to in their spare time] thought should have been done.
He wonders if one of the members of their family had been ripped to shreds by this angry, over-sized cat, would these people still be joining in their 'born free' chorus of let the tiger live?
To be fair, these are the same kind of people who actually believe that the pony-tailed, tiger tamer Craig Busch and the late, extremely annoying and infantile crocodile hunter Steve Irwin are amazing people. Kind of like how the general populous of pre-WW2 Germany thought Adolf Hitler was an awe-inspiring and mesmerising political leader.
So it is not their fault these animal lovers' stupidity is so chronic - but it is a pity they do get to vote.
Perhaps they could do the country a favour and invite Sue Bradford to their next gathering at the Zion Wildlife Park and invite her to feed the tigers!
One is sorely tempted to ask just what planet do these detractors and animal lovers actually live on. And if these people live anywhere near me - could they please shift!
To the Saint, it seems the-powers-that-be made an immanently sensible call to put out of action - as quickly as possible - a wild beast that had just ripped a man apart before it struck again. However, some of the less enlightened inhabitants of this country, seem to think it is perfectly okay for a man-eating, big cat to be walking freely around a public enclosure... because 'that's what they do in the wild'.
Now without wanting to put too finer point on it, the Saint suggests this is the sort of logic why these kind of people should not be allowed to procreate. They say stupidity is hereditary and New Zealand as a country just cannot afford to have this level of outright wackiness in the general population. Mind you, we already do have the likes of Sue Bradford in Parliament, which proves that New Zealanders do give stupid people far too much of an opportunity in this country. However, back to the matter at hand, and the outcry over the sudden and early demise of the man-eating tiger. The Saint is unsure what exactly these so-called 'animal-lovers' [a disturbing thought at the acts of bestiality these people may get up to in their spare time] thought should have been done.
He wonders if one of the members of their family had been ripped to shreds by this angry, over-sized cat, would these people still be joining in their 'born free' chorus of let the tiger live?
To be fair, these are the same kind of people who actually believe that the pony-tailed, tiger tamer Craig Busch and the late, extremely annoying and infantile crocodile hunter Steve Irwin are amazing people. Kind of like how the general populous of pre-WW2 Germany thought Adolf Hitler was an awe-inspiring and mesmerising political leader.
So it is not their fault these animal lovers' stupidity is so chronic - but it is a pity they do get to vote.
Perhaps they could do the country a favour and invite Sue Bradford to their next gathering at the Zion Wildlife Park and invite her to feed the tigers!
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