2010 - the year that was...

Dear All
Sorry about the group letter everyone, but as 2010 draws to an end and 2011 fast approaches, time seems to have run out on me so here we go.
[And to be truthful, not only does it save me from having to write the same thing over and over again in countless Christmas letters, but more importantly, it gives me a fantastic opportunity to skite about things that have happened during the year to as many people as possible!]
The year started brilliantly with the opening of Parliament in February – let’s face it, only politicians can get away with starting their work year a whole month later than everyone else!). This year has seen young John go from strength to strength, while not so young Phil has gone from bad to bloody awful!
Unfortunately, we saw a number of political causalities during year – apart from the truth, honesty and the Labour Party’s ever-shrinking poll numbers. The first to feel the heat was the former high flying – literally and figuratively – socialist and self-appointed gay icon and martyr Chris!
His demise came after first refusing to admit he’d been somewhat lax with the taxpayer’s purse during his stellar ministerial career, which saw him take frequent overseas holidays and even buy flowers for his life partner. However, Chris thought there was nothing wrong with his regular breaks on sun-drenched Islands and lavishing his favourite friend with floral tributes care of the taxpayer and was rather miffed when Phil sent him to the sin bin.
He repaid his beleaguered leader’s only decisive act of the year by penning an anonymous letter to the press gallery claiming there was going to be a coup against poor old Phil. However, this claim turned out about as reliable as the NZ cricket team’s batting line up. This led Chris to be eventually expelled from the Labour Party, but I’m still at a loss to know if this was actually a punishment or a reward for his churlish behaviour!
Speaking of horrible ACTs biting the dust; David Garret’s end was – much like him – short and nasty. His youthful imitation of a bad Fredrick Forsyth novel plot saw his political career die faster than the dead infant’s identity which he had stolen for a fake passport all those years ago.
And while we are on the subject of no great losses to Parliament, I should mention the hurried exit from politics of Pansy at the year’s end. It seems Pansy’s husband Sammy’s ability to run up frequent flyer miles on the taxpayer will have more of a lasting impact on the national political scene than anything she ever did during the past 14 years!
We couldn’t do a review of 2010 without discussing the rather bad luck that Allan and Jean had during the year with South Canterbury Finance. Let’s face it; we have all misplaced a few dollars in our time. Admittedly, losing $1.7 billion with the demise of SCF is a little more than your average loss – but who is counting when a financial genius like Allan is managing the abacus!
Of course we were so proud of the political theatrics this year of both Lucy and Robyn, who put their vast and huge knowledge of economics and geology to put an end to any further mining in New Zealand. We are just so thankful and grateful to have such all-knowing, environmental experts; who both just happen to be actresses. Again, we were so delighted to see Robyn excel in her other role as a top-notch trade negotiator and almost pull-off exporting $500 million worth of US investment in NZ movie making to Eastern Europe. Unfortunately, John and Gerry jumped in at the last minute and prevented her from single-handedly down-sizing the local film making industry, but she did give it an almighty go.
Paul had a real up and down 2010. First he was voted television personality of the year and then after innocently questioning the heritage of the Governor General and mispronouncing some dipshit Indian politician’s name he was a gone-burger! Fickle business that television industry.
Then, near the end of the year, we had poor old Christchurch get dealt a terrible blow when Granddad Jim decided to cash in national politics and run for mayor. Thankfully, nature intervened with the 7.9 earthquake that hit the city bringing both the central city and Jim’s political career crashing down. As the old military saying goes – sometimes you have to destroy a village to save it!
At the same time, Auckland became a super city and got a former Southside lawyer named Len – who looks like he wears his underpants over his trousers – as its new mayor. I am not sure if Auckland’s new super mayor is faster than a speeding locomotive, but we know he likes trains and is really keen for the rest of the country to pay for them!
Finally, the year ended with the biggest news of all – that Corin and Petra would be replacing Paul and Pippa on Breakfast TV. How exciting and vitally important – not!
So that is it for 2010. Let’s hope 2011 is as exciting and fun-filled.
All the best to you and yours for the Christmas and New Year break.

The Goff that keeps on goofing

The National Government has got to love Labour leader Phil Goff.
The hapless leader of the Opposition is like an eternal Christmas present to John Key and his team – he’s the gift that keeps on giving – or the Goff who keeps on goofing!
Poor old Phil has spent the last two years struggling to make any dent in the opinion polls and leading a Party that is so out of touch with the punters that it could not feel its own pulse in an ambulance let alone that of the electorate’s.
So far, during his less that illustrious tenure as leader of the Opposition, we have seen Goff lurch from one crisis to another
However, his latest gaffe has got to be the most embarrassing story of the year for the bumbling Goff. Yesterday, media reports revealed that Goff is still collecting rent from a Wellington apartment he owns, while pocketing a taxpayer allowance to live in another place. This is despite promising last year to sell the apartment.
Goff has owned the property for years and has been letting it since he was a minister in the previous government, when he was living in a ministerial house (care of the taxpaer). However, last year he pledged to sell the apartment when criticising Deputy Prime Minister Bill English for his perceived double-dipping. While within the parliamentary rules, English was receiving almost $1000 a week in accommodation allowances while living in his own home in Wellington, because he had declared his primary residence in Dipton in his electorate of Clutha-Southland.
After a huge public outcry – led by Goff and Labour - English repaid $32,000 and no longer claims any accommodation allowance.
At this time, other ministers - and Goff himself - also came under media fire for moving out of their Wellington apartments, then renting them out while claiming accommodation allowances.
"The flat is currently tenanted and I plan to sell it," Goff told media last year.
However, in the year to September 2010, Goff has claimed $20,214 in accommodation allowances.
As Cabinet Minister Gerry Brownlee said; it's not a good look for someone who had taken a hard-line on MP housing rorts last year to be taking advanatge of it himself.
So how has Goff reacted since been caught with his finger's in the taxpayers' till? Instead of owning up and admitting his mistake, he's whingeing that he's the subject of a politically-motivated sting.
"Four people have viewed the property in the past fortnight with a view to renting. One of those people was a friend of Jason Ede, a senior National staffer working in the Prime Minister's office.
Well boo-hoo Phil, isn’t that the nature of – you know – politics! And I suppose that you were not playing politics last year when you were putting the boot into English?
And here in lies Goff's problem and what makes this current situation such a bad look. It was he and his Labour colleagues who took the moral high ground and really went after English last year - accussing him of “double dipping” (as explained earlier it within rules – as Goff's now claiming about his current housing rort). They made political capital out of English’s predicament and still do to this day. But if you live by the sword, you risk ending up also dying by the sword - eh Phil!
In fact, Goff was so ‘holier than thou’ about the English issue, that he claimed that he would 'lead by example'
Yet, after getting busted yesterday, Goff kept on defending his own housing arrangement.
"My accommodation arrangements are within Parliamentary rules. There is no rort here," he said.
If there was ever an example of someone being hoisted by their own petard; this has got to be it.
Sorry Phil, but if this is ‘leading by example’ then your days are numbered!
However, this is something that John Key and National will not want. Goff is National’s equivalent the gift horse that keeps looking them in the mouth and – as stated earlier – dear old Phil keeps on delivering.
He has little chance of leading Labour to victory next year and Labour has no chance of winning with Goff (or with anyone else for that matter)at the helm! National will be praying that Labour keep Goff in charge – as he will be one of the Government’s best weapons in their bid to get re-elected in 2011.
Happy Christmas Phil!

No inkling to get inked!

As the summer finally dawn upon us, I’m starting to find myself in a growing minority among the wider population.
The lack of any ink adorning my body ie: my serious shortage of tattoos!
Now the days are undoubtedly getting longer and hotter, it not only means the girls’ dresses and tops are also getting shorter (bless). While, at the same time, blokes are discarding their shirts and other cover as they seek out some much needed sun and vitamin D.
In spite of these very pleasant (and in some cases, not so) sights, what I am really beginning to notice is the preponderance of both males and females sporting tattoos as they shed their clothing and saunter down our sunlight beaches and streets.
Back in the day— this was not that long ago; tattoos were mainly reserved for the likes of sailors, bikers and crims. Primarily, those among the wider population who were deemed a bit dodgy could only ever get away with sporting a tough sticker or two with any real credibility! Unless of course they happened to be from the Islands and where tattoos were part of their culture.
Actually, among my peers, skinny white guys with tattoos were seen as so gauche that we often labelled them a with the rather innocuous acronym: ‘TPOS’ – which stood for a ‘Tattooed Piece of Shit’!
Not so much, anymore. In fact, nowadays, it is we – the tattoo-less ones – who appear to be outside the mainstream, as being inked-up has become de-rigueur among the young, trendy and beautiful (definitely three categories where I miss out!).
One can hardly open a newspaper, read a magazine article or watch a TV programme featuring some super model; Hollywood movie star; hot-shot All Black or top-line cricketer (admittedly the latter is a rarity in New Zealand these days), without the requisite photo shoot or accompanying pictures revealing said hero’s obligatory skin art.
What is even becoming more noticeable is the number of females – both attractive and not so attractive (as well as young and not so young) – who are bearing some kind of body art. Apparently, it is not just biker moles and prostitutes who model tramp stamps nowadays. For the uninitiated, ‘tramp stamps’ are those tattoos that appear just above base of the bum and are on show for all the world to see whenever a girl decides to display a reasonable slice of builder’s crack.
These days, it seems every second women believes having a tramp stamp is not only very trendy, but a necessity to display the modern-day, women’s sense of individuality. (Obviously the irony that just about every other women having one as well appears to have escaped Miss Individuality’s notice in her quest for uniqueness!)
However, while all the ‘too cool for school’ crew may think having this week’s girlfriend’s name indelibly plastered across their backs; the date when their favourite rock band last came to town etched forever on their chest; or even the name of the outcome of a drunken copulation engraved into their bicep, the sheer abundance of people with tattoos seems to have made these walking ink works more cliché than chic!
And let’s not forget – tattoos are forever! That indelible image of Puff the Magic Dragon embedded on your left shoulder might have sounded like a great idea – and even looked kind of cool – when drunk as a skunk and away on a weekend visit to Sydney when you are 19. However, I am betting , it will not look quite as cool or be deemed that wonderful of an idea when examined in the cold, sober light of your grand children’s’ queries some 50 years later!
I am happy I have no inkling to get inked up. I think the double dose of pain – first from getting the tattoo etched on; and secondly having to look at it every day for the rest of my life – will help to keep me tattoo free!

Ashes to ashes!

Australia's Ashes hopes are in tatters after its last-day capitulation at the Adelaide Oval allowed England to take a crucial 1-nil series lead. (Newspaper report 7 December 7, 2010)

There are fewer sweeter things in the cricketing world than witnessing the spectacle of a once arrogant, all-conquering and dominant Australian team sliding from near invincibility to vulnerability and humility.
I am pretty certain (well as certain as anyone can ever be in making predictions about the outcome of a yet to be concluded sporting fixture), that the current Ashes test series being played out between England and Australia is seeing this happen. The result of the second Test at Adelaide, a loss by an innings and 71 runs, (an absolute thumping in cricket terms) is Australia's first innings loss to England since the Boxing Day Test of 1986.
The hapless Aussies must now win at least two of the last three tests of the series to win back the Ashes. However, England only has to win any of the last three matches to make it impossible for Australia to win back the famous urn, as a drawn series would go in favour of the current holder: England.
Those who do not know or care about cricket are unlikely to understand the significance of what is currently happening in Australia. For those of us who enjoy the wonderful theatre that surrounds the game of cricket – or chess on grass for the uninitiated – this is as big as it gets.
For years, probably since the mid to late 1980s, Australia has been the most dominant force and consistent winning team in international cricket. The men who have donned the baggy green caps during this time have stood atop of the mountain of world cricket, mostly uncontested, dispatching would-be challengers with ruthless efficiency and gaining an arrogant swagger that only a champion team – which knows it is a champion team – can muster.
Over this time Australia has produced too numerous world-class players to count like: Border, Waugh, Boone, Marsh, Waugh (Steve), Taylor, Warne, Waugh (Mark – who was dubbed ‘Afghanistan’ ie: the forgotten war as it was then in the late ‘80s), Jones, McGrath, Gilchrist, Matthews, Healy etc, etc the list goes on and on! The fact was that Australia was so dominate during this period that, at their peak , they could have produced two – possibly three – teams at the same time and still will have beaten anyone else who played them.
But the halcyon days for Australian cricket look to be well and truly over. As Ricky Ponting’s current team look decidedly average – not as bad or talent –free as New Zealand’s black caps – and is facing an uphill battle against the in-form Poms.
I think this is a good thing for the game of cricket.
As a non-partisan follower of the current Ashes series, I believe the end of Australia’s two and bit decade of utter domination of world cricket is great for breathing new life into the noble art of battling willow on leather.
Normally, I wouldn’t be seen dead cheering for an English sporting team of any hue. However, in the case of the current Ashes series I am joining with the Barmy Army and loudly singing “Rule Britannia” as the Poms do a job on their Australian cricketing colleagues!

Annoying family really... annoying!

Is it me or is the faux family: “The Colemans” – dreamed up by the marketing gurus for the Countdown/Foodtown supermarket chain – without doubt the most annoying people to ever grace our television screens?
I know that is a big claim to make when you consider some of the jerks, tosspots and irritating people the idiot box has foisted upon hapless viewers in this country over the years.
Who can forget – although I’d love to – Nick Tansley (from that awful game show “With a bucket on your head”)? How about Belinda Todd? The ginga-slapper from Nightline who went on to become the ‘star’ of New Zealand’s most embarrassing attempt at a comedy show ever ‘ Melody Rules’.
What about the ubiquitous Jason Gunn? (Someone who I’d find annoying just standing in the street). Then there is the list of no-talent losers like Brent Todd, Wendy Botha, Matthew Ridge and just about anybody else – apart from Marc Ellis – that producer Julie Christie has ever introduced to television.
Without a doubt these are all pretty annoying characters, so it could only be the ‘creative types’ – ie marketing and advertising tossers – who could possibly top these real-life jerks, with made up ones! So hats off to Countdown's publicity experts – they have done an outstanding job in creating the oh-so infuriating Colemans.
Their concept is not even new. Back in the day, we had the ‘Fernleaf’ family who were used quite successfully for a number of years to flog tonnes of butter, cheese and milk to local consumers. Hell, this made-up family even survived a change in product name from Fernleaf to Mainland without too much fuss.
And then we had ASB’s Ira Goldstein who has only just recently been retired back to the US after more than a decade on our screens. We came to love the goofy yank sent over to little old ‘Enzed’ by his over-bearing boss to report on a successful Kiwi bank was run.
So the Countdown's over-paid, skate-board-riding creative’s have not even been that creative with the birth of their phony Coleman family. And to make matters worse, not only do this latter-day, version of the smarmy Walton clan infest almost every ad break on my TV; now they sending me junk mail as well!
Only just this week, in the post, I received a pretend photocopied Christmas letter from the pretend Countdown family. Now it is annoying enough when you get one of these photocopied Christmas letters (where people write a generic letter skiting about their family’s ‘wonderful year’ and then send to everyone they know at Christmas time). But to actually get one from a pretend family that I don’t know – or ever want to know – is really, really annoying!
so while I have only just been introduced to Nikki, Rob, Wills, Jess and baby Joshy Coleman – I’ve already had enough of the mind-numbingly antics of this grating ‘family’. In fact, I am so sick of the annoying Colemans that they are about to turn this regular, long-time Foodtown customer into a loyal client of Foodstuffs - the fierce rival of the Countdown supermarket group.
I am certain that this kind of reaction to this slick marketing ploy – to use today’s vernacular – can safely be labelled as an ‘epic fail’!
Previously, the only Colemans I knew of was the well-known brand of mustards.
However, it seems the fake Countdown family is fast becoming very much like their condiment namesake – an unnecessary addition only ever needed in very, tiny doses!
Do me a favour Countdown and phase out the Coleman family pronto - just like you are currently doing with your Foodtown and Woolworth brands!

No Pikers on the Coast

This past week – like the majority of New Zealanders – I’ve been transfixed by newspaper, radio, internet and TV reports for the latest updates on the Pike River Coal Mine disaster. I desperately clung out for good news that the trapped miners could be saved and this story would have a happy ending. Sadly – for the 29 unfortunate men underground – their families and friends, the West Coast and the rest of the country – there was no happy outcome to this tragedy.
A second explosion deep in the mine on Wednesday afternoon extinguished the last flicker of hope that any of the 29 would be brought out alive – even if some of them had miraculously survived the initial blast of the Friday before.
And while this six day ordeal ended up with the worst possible outcome and the tragic loss of 29 men’s lives, it also bought out the best and worst in human nature and behaviour.
While we wait to see if the 29 bodies can be recovered and returned to their families or if the mine will forever remain their tomb, and before all the inquiries into why and how this happened, I want look back on the week’s events and how things unfoiled.
It all started on the afternoon of Friday, 19 November, when the country was rocked –both literally and metaphorically – by the news that there had been a major explosion in a coal mine at Pike River, on the South Island’s West Coast, and a number of men were missing. Immediately, Pike River’s Australian chief executive, Peter Whittall fronted the media and explained the situation as he understood it.
During the next six days – via twice daily media conferences – Whittall became the public face of this tragedy and the epitome of how adversity brings out the best in human nature. Whittall's tireless communications outlining the efforts being made to rescue these men, along with his hound dog features, are now indelibly etched on the nation’s conscious.
This empathetic, knowledgeable, caring and likeable character really lived up to the old maxim: “Cometh the hour; cometh the man”!
Another man to shine in the leadership stakes was Grey District mayor Tony Kokshoorn. His undaunting support for both the families and his community, coupled with his level-headed manner and ability sum up people’s feelings was remarkable. Kokshoorn’s confidence in the Coasters capacity to overcome this disaster and apt description that “coal dust ran in the DNA of the Coast” showed just how in touch he was with his community.
Another who stood up and out, in very difficult circumstances, was Tasman District police commander Gary Knowles the man charged with overseeing this most difficult operation. Despite coming under hostile, ill-informed and unfair criticism - from some parts of the media, family members and others, for not sending in people immediately to mount a rescue, he stood firm. Unfortunately, Knowles’ cautious and defiant stance not to risk any more lives until it was safe to do so, proved to be 100 per cent correct when the second explosion occurred.
Then there were those who did not equip themselves so well during this event. This included those aforementioned parts of the media – especially some of the Australians who flew over to cover the disaster – their boorish, smart-arsed and ill logical bagging and derision of Gary Knowles over the way he was handling the rescue operation. As yet, these arm chair experts, have failed to acknowledge Knowles’ call was right and they were wrong.
However, I have to save my biggest brickbat for the father of one of the lost men – Laurie Drew. While understandably upset and concerned about his missing son, Zen, Mr Drew did himself, his son or his family no favours by his complaints, strange conspiracy theories and behaviour. Drew’s claims of concern for his son seemed to get lost in the haze of his love affair with the media spotlight and attention it gave him. (In my opinion, if Laurie Drew really cared so much for his son in the first place, then he would not have given the boy such a silly name like Zen!)
Despite these minor glitches and the huge loss of their 29 men, the Coast and its community have come out of this tragic ordeal with their reputations greatly enhanced and a far better understanding for their plight from the rest of the country.

When ignorance is not bliss

It’s often said the first casualty of war is the truth.
Unfortunately, the same seems to apply to many of the ‘campaigns’ run by activists and lobby groups against sectors of New Zealand agribusiness.
Think of some of the campaigns that have been promulgated against different parts of the agribusiness sector via the media. Fish and Game’s “Dirty Dairying”; Greenpeace’s anti Palm Kernel imports; sow crates and genetic modification to name just a few.
Massey University science professor Jacqueline Rowarth regularly talks about the ignorance danger of many of these so-called ‘good intentioned’ campaigns. Rowarth, a columnist for a weekly business publication, has firm views on many subjects. But she backs her opinions with facts, evidence and data.
Ironically, many of these so-called activist campaigns against New Zealand’s agribusiness sector are seldom pressed – by a largely sympathetic and often ignorant mainstream media – for any facts, evidence and/or data to back their claims.
Recently, former ACT MP, journalist and latter day media commentator, Deborah Coddington penned an interesting column for a Sunday newspaper, where she opined on the growing danger of the divide between rural and urban New Zealand.
“It's open season on farmers. When they're not destroying the environment, they're torturing animals,” she provocatively began the aforementioned column.
While Coddington was being deliberately derisive with her opening salvo, she did make important and serious points. The nub of which was that most of the good-intentioned, but ultimately ill-informed ‘campaigns’ against our farming and agribusiness sector are often high on emotion, low on facts and ultimately dangerous!
“Ten years ago, it would have been silly for television to show a calf being born with the cow standing up and alleging that's cruelty to calves (cows can deliver standing up or prostrate). Or for a major newspaper to picture beef cattle in a stream and caption them as dairy cows,” Coddington added. “But both these occurrences were unquestioned, because the facts would have ruined stories where reporters were putting the proverbial gumboot into farmers.”
New Zealand agribusiness’s latest lament comes on the back of news that ex-pat, rich-lister Jan Cameron – founder of Kathmandu clothing and camping gear - has donated $2 million to animal activist group SAFE as reward money for farm workers to dob in their bosses.
Cameron’s endowment is being used by SAFE to encourage farm workers to report on their employers to authorities for cruel practices – especially the use of sow crates and caged hens.
While the good folk of Auckland’s Grey Lynn, Wellington’s Kandallah, and their ilk in other cities around the country, will no doubt fervently support this campaign as they sit down to enjoy their free range bacon and eggs brunches at their favourite organic cafes. However, I doubt their not so well-off counterparts in less wealthy parts of the country are so supportive.
A move to ban sow-crates and caged hens in New Zealand – may make the luvvies in the wealthy suburbs feel smug and happy to pay more for pork, ham, bacon, chicken and eggs. However, it’s doubtful the struggling people in the Mangeres, Poriuras and Flaxmeres would be so happy or able to pay more. But these families aren’t likely to be aware of this fact, as the proponents of banning sow crates and caged hens tend to gloss over such information when playing the emotional card.
Animal activists also neglect to inform people that the ‘evil’ pig crates happen to help prevent sows crushing, or even eating, their newly born offspring. Piglets, when born, are very small, so sometimes mum rolls over and splat! While piglets are so small, depending on the sow, it's better to have mama pig in a special pen for a few days where her babies can reach her teats, but she can't squash or eat them!
With these kind of information gaps, between what people are told by vested interest groups and what they should know, is furthering widening the gap between urban and rural New Zealand.
Lincoln University academic and commentator, Caroline Saunders believes the best way to bridge New Zealand’s increasing rural-urban divide is with better communication. She says this would help to improve farming’s image by highlighting positive aspects and – when problems occur – detailing how these are being dealt with.
Saunders makes a salient point. Ignorance is not so bliss, when it starts to threaten this country’s key economic contributor. It is high time New Zealand agribusiness sector got its act together.

Pansy gets it all Wong!

For all intense and purposes the political career of Pansy Wong, the freshly-resigned Women’s and Ethnic Affairs Minister, is all but over.
Her ministerial career is already toast and it is only a matter of time before she leaves Parliament altogether – either earlier via a by-election or at the next election when she will not bother to stand again.
Wong resigned her ministerial portfolios after admitting her husband, Sammy, conducted personal business while on a taxpayer-funded trip to China. Since then more allegations of similar trips have emerged.
It’s clear – excuse the pun – the Chinese walls Wong’s husband erected between his business dealings and his wife’s ministerial duties were far too flimsy and are the cause of her political demise.
However, Wong’s quick resignation from her ministerial roles, combined with her lowly ranking and minor portfolios, means PM John Key has dodged any real collateral damage to either his or the Government’s standing.
The fact is Pansy Wong was in all reality a token Minister. To not put too subtle point on it, her position in the Cabinet happened to be more to do with the fact she ticked two minority boxes – being Asian and a female – than any real talent.
Meanwhile, Wong’s Women’s and Ethnic Affairs portfolios are about as relevant and useful to modern-day Government as the appendix is to the human body. So – to cut a long story short – she is no great loss. A nice lady, dedicated MP and earnest performer, but her going from the Cabinet is not likely to be noticed by the general public.
This will not stop the Government’s opponents from crowing. Any ministerial scalp – no matter how irrelevant – is always a win for an opposition. So the struggling Labour leader Phil Goff is trying to milk it for all it is worth.
Goff claims the Prime Minister's handling of this issue has been “appalling” and that the PM has not shown “leadership” on the issue. While Goff and his Labour colleagues may believe this to be the case, I am pretty sure most voters do not care and still rate Key highly – especially when compared to the hapless Goff.
The irony is that Goff’s faux indignation and claims of the moral high ground over this matter could come back to bite him on the proverbial if he is not careful. Goff was a very high ranking minster in the past Labour administration, which sat by idly when the likes of Taito Phillip Field and Winston Peters played fast and loose with the rules as ministers.
While voters hate politicians who milk the system, they also hate hypocrisy and Goff wants to be careful he does not come across as a hypocrite. Goff’s Labour Party is hardly a shining example of open, honest and transparent administration.
I am betting this affair will have about as much impact on the current National Government’s stocks, as Pansy Wong did as a minister – bugger all!

Man up!

New Zealand rugby followers are quick to poke the borax at their English counterparts and label them whingeing Poms when they are not happy about something in the game.
However, the way All Black supporters and management are going on with endless complaints and nebulous justifications over hooker Keven Mealamu’s recent suspension for foul play, New Zealand is in very, real danger of stealing this mantel away from our motherland cohorts.
It is embarrassing and doing a lot of damage to the All Black ‘brand’.
Mealamu copped a four week – and justified in my view – suspension for head butting England captain Lewis Moody at Twickenham last weekend. He was suspended by the IRB judiciary after they reviewed footage of an incident involving Mealamu and Moody during the 50th minute of the All Blacks 26-16 victory on Sunday.
Despite the overwhelming and blatant video evidence of the New Zealand hooker smashing his head into the back of the English captain’s noggin – which constitutes a head butt in anyone’s language – everyone from the All Black management down are using the big Egyptian river defence – denial!
Some of the excuses used would be laughable if they were not so pathetic. All Black captain Richie McCaw led the charge with his excuse for Mealamu’s behaviour – when not whingeing about why one of the English players was not cited for another incident – was: “I think everyone knows what Keven's like and the type of guy he is.”
Gee, Ritchie I bet no defence lawyer has ever tried that one before.
“You see, your honour, everyone knows what a nice guy my client Mr Charles Manson, so can you please let him off with a warning?”
Meanwhile, assistant coach Steven Hanson – a mumbling, bumbling communicator at the best of times – claimed that Mealamu “was the only athlete in the world who doesn’t have a dirty bone in his body” and thus it was unfair that he had been suspended for headbutting.
FFS! The ‘only’ athlete in the world? Hanson is an assistant coach of one team, in a minor international sorting code – I fail to see how that gives him the ability to make a comment on the character of all sportsmen and women around the globe!
Now while I don’t doubt Keven Mealamu is a nice guy. Hell, I’ve even seen the guy on TV reading books – that he has illustrated – to sick children.
However, that still does not distract from the fact that he smashed his cranium into the back of Lewis Moody’s head during the test match last week. End of story. That is a headbutt and incurs a 4 week ban.
Remember Baakies Botha – the god-fearing, thug who locks the scrum for the Springboks – smashing his head into All Black halfback Jimmy Cowan’s skull during the tri-nations this year and incurring a ban? I don’t recall any of the All Black management calling for leniency for Botha because he is a practising Christan?
So – in the modern parlance – it is time the All Blacks, their management, captain, players and supporters “man-up”. They should just accept that Mealamu – lovely guy that he is – headbutted an opposition player during last week’s test and that means he must cop a suspension. Game over, move on.

In a league of their own

It’s been said that rugby league is a second class game, followed by second-class people and – going by the kind of negative publicity the game continues to garner – one would have to agree with this rather harsh claim!
In the past week alone, we have seen a couple of prime examples of why league has, and needs, to clean up its act.
Firstly we’ve had the spectacle of New Zealand league supporters descending upon the country’s showpiece for next year’s Rugby World Cup – Eden Park – to watch the Kiwis play the Kangaroos. However, instead of enhancing the sport’s name, these yobbos only managed to put more hits on the reputation and standing of their beloved game than the Kiwi team did in their big test match loss to the Australian opposition on the field!
NZ Herald league reporter Steve Deane summed up their behaviour aptly and succinctly in his comments:

“When it comes to giving itself a black eye, league is Manny Pacquiao and Floyd Mayweather rolled into one. It sets about itself with remarkable vigour, leaving its followers dazed and bloodied and wondering whether it's even worth coming out to answer the next bell.”

Deane’s description of the crowd’s antics paints a rather unseemly picture for all to see.
“The sight of thousands of people sheltering their children from flying missiles as they streamed for the exits with fully a quarter of the night's test to go was as bad as it gets for the code.
With more than 44,000 people packed into Eden Park and a strong Kiwis side facing a Kangaroos second string, major gains for the sport were begging to be made. All that was required was a half-decent Kiwis showing and a bit of common courtesy from those watching.
Instead, we got a booed Australian national anthem, a ham-fisted flop from the Kiwis and a near-riot in the stands. As bad as the Kiwis were, the behaviour from some in the crowd was worse. Much, much worse...”
Not a good look at all! And before any leaguies get all indignant and accuse me of picking on their game - which I am – they need to take a long look in the mirror. Perhaps they should be asking why league’s reputation is in tatters.
Another recent example is the news out of Australia, where Canberra Raider’s player Joel Monaghan was caught photographed in a rather compromising position with a dog. Apart from taking human/canine relations to a new low, as well as giving new meaning to the old saying: “giving a dog a bone”, Monaghan has again dragged league’s sullied reputation into the cellar.
Apparently these antics were part of a “Mad Monday” celebration to mark the end of Canberra’s 2010 season. Now if league advocates were serious about cleaning up their game they would do well by banning “Mad Mondays”. This is based on the rather novel concept of finishing up your season by encouraging everyone to drink as much alcohol as possible and see what happens.
However, what the idiots who allow this kind of Mad Monday rubbish to happen (which is a concept that comes straight out of the dinosaur age of rugby league back in the 1960s and 70s) fail to realise is: copious amounts of booze; plus young men; equals trouble!
Now I realise that the average league supporter is not a genius, but you don’t have to be Albert Einstein to deduce that this is a recipe for disaster.
You only have to read out a few of league’s long roll call of shame: Brad Fittler, Mathew Johns, pre season bonding sessions by the Canterbury Bulldogs, to see the common connection between the game’s bad behaviour and its booze culture.
Again, the yobbos at Eden Park were not fired up on candy and Coco Cola. But my guess is they had a belly full of booze and had transformed from loyal fans into an ugly, unruly mob.
I am not taking the piss out of rugby league. However, if the game’s administrators and supporters want to enhance its battered reputation, they could do a lot worse than taking the piss out of rugby league!

Redundancy a lifesaver!

While some people may get all bitter and twisted about being made redundant, I have never felt this way. And this has become even more obvious after reading this morning’s newspaper!
In fact, when it became apparent - a couple of months back - that I would not be offered a position with the new Auckland Council, I was quite philosophical about this situation. There was even a sense of relief that I would not be tied to an organisation that is likely to have numerous teething problems – due to its vast size and complex nature of its business.
Meanwhile, any thoughts of resentment about not having a job have now been replaced with gratitude after reading the following in today’s paper: ‘Tens of thousands of Kiwis are at risk of a potentially fatal "21st-century disease" from sitting at their desks for long periods each day, new research shows.’
According to this report, a study by the Medical Research Institute of New Zealand suggests that people who sit without moving for 10 hours a day – and for at least two hours without getting up – are three times more at risk of an embolism or deep vein thrombosis (DVT) than those who do not!
Ipso facto not getting a job at Auckland Council has actually saved my life!
So I owe a big thank you to Mark Ford and the Auckland Transition Agency (ATA) for caring so much about my personal welfare, that they did not give me a job at the new Auckland Council. There is little doubt that any role at Council would have consisted of a fair amount of sitting around on my chuff for long periods of time, which would have only encouraged and enticed DVT to shorten my lifespan.
According to lead researcher, Richard Beasley, the risks were potentially higher than for those who took long-haul flights because though the absolute risk was lower; more people were sedentary at work more often.
My thorough read of this article (after all, I do have the time since I don’t have a job!) explained that embolisms and DVT are potentially life-threatening blood clots where slow-flowing blood returning to the heart can clot, break away, and travel to the lungs, where it can prove fatal.
The ACC-funded study, which took two years, compared 197 people who had suffered veinous thromboembolism with 197 controls, and checked for stationary behaviour within the month before the embolism. Other risk factors include age, obesity, gender (females are more at risk), and a personal or family history of veinous thromboembolism.
So, as well as the huge debt of gratitude I owe to those who chose to extend my life by not employing me, all I need to do to ensure I keep DVT at bay and a long life is, not get too fat or undertake a sudden sex change operation and I should be sweet.
I think I can manage that.

Channelling my inner Tony Robbins

It is often said: ‘That as one door closes – another one opens’.
I was reminded of this rather ineffective one-liner, as I finished up my job last Friday and off to face a somewhat uncertain outlook – knowing I had no actual job to go to on Monday nor for the foreseeable future. There we all were, the majority of my former colleagues heading off to be part of the newly formed Auckland ‘super city’ Council. Meanwhile there was I – and a handful of others – who were not. Some had chosen to cash in their long years of council service to take the money and run. While the rest of us had been told – in not so many words – that the super city would be just ‘super’ without our services and we could bugger off and leave them to it!
So as yet another person feigned subdued interest about my future employment prospects, and expressed a modified version of the ‘one door closes’ line; I wondered where this statement originated from.
I have always been pretty sure this cheesy quote came from one of those ‘glass half-full’, motivational speaker types, who tend to infest the business speaking circuit nowadays. I can just imagine someone like Tony Robbins spurting out this crap at one of his awful seminars, and his audience of suckers – having shelled a thousand or so bucks a head to hear his all-teeth and sun tan pearls of wisdom – lapping it up this puerile rubbish as easily as they buy another one of his putrid self help books.
However, a bit of research – well... banging it into Google – and it turns out it wasn’t the aforementioned Mr Robbins, or any of his motivational-type mates who came up with this line. Instead it turns out ‘one door closes and other opens’ is a line used by the title character Don Quixote in the novel written by Spanish author Miguel de Cervantes in the early 1600s.
Now just what the hell a Spanish novelist in the 15th Century would know about corporate restructures or motivation has got me buggered. However, then again, what the hell would Tony Robbins really know about this either?
All I am saying is that the next person who blissfully suggests to me – after learning about my current employment (or more correctly unemployment) situation – that ‘when one door closes another one opens’ is likely to have the nearest door slammed in to their well-meaning, insincere face!

Just wondering!

Nobody asked me…but:

- I don't suppose Sir Peter Jackson will be casting Robyn Malcolm for any roles in the upcoming Hobbit films any time soon!

- Maybe if he is looking for someone to clean out the portaloos on set – and she is willing accept minimum wage like her Mexican counterparts in Hollywood?

- Is Phil Goff meeting with Julia Gillard because it's the only realistic way he’s ever going to see a Labour prime minister in Australasia while he is leader?

- Will Chris Carter still be on Phil Goff’s Christmas card list?

- Anyone else find it rather ironic that the only protests held during Labour weekend were anti-union ones?

- Does new Auckland ‘supercity’ mayor Len Brown wear his underpants on the outside of his trousers?

- And if Len Brown is the left’s answer, then it must have been a really stupid question!

- Has CTU boss Helen Kelly ever worked in a job where she had to employ people?

- Will Sonny Bill Williams’ shoulders explode if he pushes anymore weights?

- When will Allan Hubbard’s group of mindless supporters officially be declared a dangerous cult?

- Are the Black Caps really that crap?

- Or is the Bangladeshi cricket team just getting better?

- Was justice served with Bill Wilson’s resignation from the Supreme Court?

- Will Tony Veitch’s theme song be The Prodigy’s ‘Smack My Bitch Up’ when he returns to front Radio Sport’s breakfast show?

- Will Christchurch now change its promotional slogan to: ‘The city that rocks’?

- Did Paul the oracle Octopuss predict his own death?

Outrageous misfortune!

Well done NZ Actors Equity - talk about biting the hand that feeds you!
“And the Oscar for outstanding effort in exporting New Zealand’s fledgling film industry offshore goes to… NZ Actors Equity and their ubiquitous spokesperson Ms Robyn Malcolm.”
To paraphrase Winston Churchill: “Never in the field of acting endeavour have so few, done so much damage to so many and achieved so little.”
It seems the selfish and posturing actions of a small part of the actors’ union and its Council of Trade Union head Helen Kelly, along with the very smug and self-appointed font of New Zealand’s conscience, Robyn Malcolm have thrown into jeopardy the filming of the US $500 million Hobbit movies in New Zealand.
Warner Bros says it is considering offshore locations for The Hobbit movies.
In a statement the studio said the actions of unions had caused it substantial disruption and damage and forced it to consider other options.
Both the Government and director Sir Peter Jackson have blamed union actions for the possible loss of the two-film Lord of the Rings prequel, saying the international ban put on the movie during employment negotiations had undermined confidence in New Zealand as a location.
"What they saw as a predictable and settled environment ... now looks, because of the actions of the unions, to be a much more hostile and unpredictable environment," Mr Key explained.
It was only a month ago when all was looking good for the filming of the Hobbit movies in NZ. Peter Jackson – a hero to many in the local film industry – for putting New Zealand actors and technical people on the international map by making the very successful Lord of the Rings trilogy in this country, was set to crank thing up for his latest production when a small bunch of actors – stirred up by their Australian union comrades and supported by the militant and anti-business president of the CTU Helen Kelly threw a rather large spanner in the works.
In a very dramatic – what else would you expect from these acting luvvies – bid at publicity, NZ Actors Equity demanded that the producers of the movies change the employment rules and employ all actors on their movies as full time staff rather than independent contractors as is normally the case. When Jackson and Warners said no; the actors union - in a huff of self-importance - immediately placed an international boycott on the movies and the proverbial really hit the fan.
After it became apparent that the posturing by the union and Ms’s Malcolm and Kelly was a real threat to these movies going ahead in godzone and the livelihoods of thousands of technical staff and others – who would also miss out if they were shifted from NZ – these people came out in numbers to protest heavily against the unionists and their stupid actions.
So now with the Government, Peter Jackson, the Warners studio and also thousands of affected technicians and other affected parties baying for the unions to pull their heads out of their collective rear ends with the movies all but lost – suddenly both Kelly and Malcolm are trying to play the victims (the latter being about as good as she is an expert on climate change ie not very!) and blaming everyone else but themselves for this utter debacle.
If Warners do pull the plug and the Hobbit movies are lost to New Zealand Robyn Malcolm and Helen Kelly et el will have no one else to blame, but their own hubris and blinkered 1970s thinking.
Both these outdated women and their outrageous industrial bumbling are relics of a bygone socialist era that has failed miserably. They should be put in a museum they belong, and not as representatives of the vibrant and flexible industry that New Zealand film making and acting has become in 2010.

A real Rock and roller!

If there is one person who epitomises the hedonistic lifestyle of a rock and roll star it would have to be veteran Rolling Stones guitarist Keith Richards.
Now 66-year old ‘Keef’ is about to unleash all his antics of sex, drugs and rock n roll in a soon to be released autobiography. With a face only a mother could love and a body that has defied any reasonable expectation of human endurance, due to continued ingestion of illegal substances, Richards’ memoir – simply titled Life – will be a music groupie’s wet dream and a big money earner.
Mick Jagger’s well-worn side kick, whom he irreverently refers to in the memoir as "Your Majesty" and "Brenda" – gets the treatment from ‘Keef’ in the book, as do other celebrities including Johnny Depp and John Lennon.
With Richards promising to dish the dirt on his rock mates, as well as reveal his own well-documented lifetime foibles, the memoir is likely to be a huge seller and it has already brought its subject an advance of £4.8 million after a massive bidding war by publishers.
Even yours truly – not being a Stones fanatic or even someone with a great interest in celebrity culture or huge knowledge of music – is likely to be interested in reading ‘Keef’s’ missal.
Why? Because the guy is colourful, a survivor and a real character to boot.
Richards is an old style rock and roll legend. He is talented, gifted, but also flawed. And the founding member of the Rolling Stones is still very much musically relevant after 50 years in the business.
That is opposed to the manufactured music stars of today – such as Justin Bieber (who to me is the modern day equivalent of David Cassidy on Prozac). The modern day pop stars are neither talented, gifted and will definitely not still be around in 50 years time belting out their pointless, bubble gum songs. And thank god for that.
I also have a grudging admiration – and admittedly, a fair bit of envy – that Richards, even the way he looks, can still pull good looking birds. Bastard! And as someone who has battled the bottle and lost, I find it amazing that Keef has drunk, sniffed, smoked, injected and ingested anything and everything in his path and still not only remains alive, but also vertical and functioning.
True to form, Richards – who is famous for his insatiable appetite for drugs, although he gave up heroin in 1978 after a fifth drug bust and stopped using cocaine after a 2006 fall in Fiji forced him to undergo brain surgery – says he does not regret his exploits.
"I loved a good high. And if you stay up, you get the songs that everyone else misses because they're asleep."
Richards' memoir is published later this month and I have no doubt it will be a best seller.
Rock on Keef, rock on!

Goodnight Christine

As I blogged back in August, former Labour MP Chris Carter has proven just what a bitch he really is.
Back then I said:
"Carter has been mincing around Parliament like a spoilt child all year – blaming everyone and anyone, but himself – over his troubles for overspending on credit cards and unfettered travel all over the world care of the hard-pressed taxpayer.
His huge sense of entitlement has been so grand that any genuine questions about his over-the-top spending resulted in claims by MP of gay-bashing and unfairness.
Carter’s petulant and poor behaviour even got the better of the hapless Phil Goff - a month or so back - when he gave the errant MP a slap over the wrist with a wet bus ticket and demoted him a couple of slots. But instead of taking his medicine like a man and rebuilding his stocks within the party, the petty MP repaid his leader’s soft stance by writing an anonymous letter to the media undermining Goff's leadership."
Now after two months of "stress leave" from Parliament on full pay and other diversions, the Labour hierarchy has finally backed up the hapless Goff and thrown the recalcitrant MP out of the Party – the first such move since MP John A Lee was ousted in 1940 – despite an hour-long plea not to do so from Carter.
[Mind you, I am still unsure - considering the parlous state of Labour's poll ratings - whether being thrown out of this political party is a punishment or a blessing!]
Meanwhile, true to form, the now expelled former MP has declared war on Labour and leader Phil Goff, threatening to dish dirt and name those he said were involved in plotting to oust Goff from the top job.
Again - as I said in my earlier blog - with this kind of petulant and bitchy attitude it is no wonder former National MP and Auckland mayor John Banks dubbed Carter "Christine" when he was in Parliament.
Carter has claimed he lost 16 kgs and was 'clinically depressed' when he was booted out of caucus for trying to shaft - metaphorically - Goff.
Well I'm depressed that Carter is still pulling $120 K a year as an MP and managed to wrangle two months full pay while he worked on his fake tan and went to the gym while on stress leave!
Instead of whingeing and whining like the little girl he is. Carter needs - for once in his life - to man up and take his punishment. He gambled on trying to get rid of his leader, got caught and therefore lost.
Now he should do the Labour Party - which he claims to love so much - a favour and get rid of himself.
No one picked on Carter because he is gay, tall, bald or quite frankly a wanker! He was kicked out because he is a two-faced, lying, treacherous sneak. Even if Carter had been a meat eating, rugby playing, womanising, hard drinking bloke (admittedly not a very common feature in today's Labour Party) he would have still been given the arse for his behaviour.
It is good night Christine, you time is well and truly up.

Start a group!

Hey all you New Zealanders out there (even if you do not look like me) : why the hell are you so many of you getting into such a state about what Breakfast TV host Paul Henry says?
I can’t say that I’m either a fan or a critic of the so-called TV shock jock. Not that I am sitting on the fence or afraid to utter an opinion about him. It is just that I just don’t care.
I rarely watch Breakfast TV. And the few times I have seen Henry, he has come across as a bit of a goober – especially when he giggles at his own jokes.
However, the proverbial really hit the fan earlier this week, when the loudmouthed Henry was interviewing Prime Minister John Key about the Governor-General Sir Anand Satyanand. He asked Key during their usual weekly interview, "Are you going to choose a New Zealander who looks and sounds like a New Zealander this time ... Are we going to go for someone who is more like a New Zealander this time?"
Now while our current Governor General is of Fijian-Indian parentage, he was actually born, educated and worked all his life in New Zealand. So it appears Henry seems to have really upset those who cannot stand him, which tend to be the politically correct, liberal, feminist, tree-hugging crowd. And this is not surprising as these are the types who are often the targets of Henry’s funny – and not so funny – barbs.
A couple examples of these ‘Henryisms’ have included:
- Asking his co-host if a rather serious, but admittedly hirsute, female Greenpeace spokeswoman had a moustache following his interview with her.
- Getting all school-boyish and giggling uncontrollably and repeatedly saying the name of the Indian politician responsible for overseeing the Commonwealth Games Shelia Dickshit.
- Questioning whether British singing sensation Susan Boyle was retarded.
As I have said previously, I am rather ambivalent about Paul Henry and am not fussed if he stays or goes. But come on people can we all get a bit of perspective about this!
Has Henry’s rather stupid and boorish question about the GG’s appearance really been worth all the newspaper column inches, news bulletin leads and online commentary it has garnered during the week?
Or do many of those calling for his head, and/or expressing all the faux outrage about his comments, really have other agendas to play out? What really are the Green Party, the Unite Union – and everybody’s favourite rent a protestor John Minto so upset about?
Is it more because Henry is viewed as a right wing commentator – he did once stand for Parliament for the National Party (and was ironically well beaten by a transgender, Maori ) — and not a bastion of the liberal, left wing, intelligentsia who these people support?
Meanwhile, much of the media commentary and news stories about Henry’s GG gaffe can be put down to good, old-fashioned competitor rivalry. It is obvious much of this commentary is more about news organisations been able to have a whack at TVNZ than any real concern about what Henry actually said.
French writer Voltaire is often credited (and wrongly as it turns out) with the rather eloquent defence of tolerance and freedom of speech by saying: “I may disagree with what you say, but I’ll defend to my death your right to say it.”
I’m with Voltaire on this. Paul Henry might be a bit of a dick and what he said might not have been politically correct. But we live in a free country and we are all allowed our own opinions – no matter how unpalatable others may find them.
So to all Paul Henry's detractors - as the man himself would so succiently put it - start a group!

A one term wonder?

Is Auckland soon to become Brown’s-town?
If the latest polls are correct, then the Labour-backed Manukau mayor Len Brown is about to whip former National Cabinet Minister and current Auckland City mayor John Banks butt and become the first bearer of the mayoral chains in the new Auckland super city.
So instead of having the stucco tones of the - at times – anal John Banks leading Auckland, the about to be super-sized city is highly likely to be headed by a skinny, white bloke with a dodgy ticker from South Auckland who has does embarrassing raps and face slapping.
According to a recent Herald on Sunday poll the Manukau mayor's South Auckland supporters have turned out in unprecedented numbers, giving him 56 per cent support among those who say they have already voted. The same poll says that Banks has won only 33 per cent of the votes cast so far, but he can still theoretically close the gap. To have a chance, he has to persuade many less-committed supporters to make the effort of ticking the box and mailing back their voting forms.
So far, Brown's core supporters on his home turf of Manukau have voted in far higher numbers than those in Banks' strongholds of Auckland City and the North Shore. But even in Auckland City, Brown has a slight lead.
Banks is in the lead only on the North Shore and among those who are uncertain about whether they will vote. The poll shows Brown receiving overwhelming support in Manukau, and from Maori and Polynesian voters.
There probably is not a great deal of surprise in this poll result – although the 20-plus % margin may raise a few eyebrows. Brown has led Banks for most of the campaign and by quite a margin early on. That was until revelations about the self professed ‘man of the people’ using his Manukau Council mayoral credit card to buy personal goods like groceries and a hi-fi stereo dented his halo and allowed Banks to make it more of a neck and neck race.
It is clear that Len Brown has had one big advantage over John Banks in this mayoral race - all along - and that is: he is not John Banks!
Banks – or Banksie as he like to call himself – is one of those politicians people just love to hate. He is a polarising figure who inspires many people who would not normally bother to vote – to get off their arses and cast the ballot against him. While New Zealand mayoral races - and local government politics in general – are renowned for usually only attracting a great deal of public apathy and a complete lack of interest from the general public, Banks does tend to enthuse and motivate his detractors to vote for anyone but him.
Banks has already felt the love and then the hatred of Auckland's electors. He was first voted mayor of the city back in 2001 and spent the next three years antagonising people so much that he was thrown out of office in 2004. However, while Banks has many faults, being a quitter is not one, and he spent the next three years “transmogrifying” (his own description) himself into a kinder, gentler persona and romped back again into the mayoral chains and Auckland Town hall at the 2007 election.
However, if the polls are to be believed, Banks transmogrification has not been enough for the wider Auckland public and because of this Len Brown will be the beneficiary – which is ironic as it is beneficiaries and those of similar ilk who will have voted for Brown in their droves.
Yet while Brown may be the winner on October 9 – I have a feeling that he will only be a one term wonder anyway. The advent of the super city has not been greeted with universal joy or much enthusiasm in the region. But the one thing that people do want – and expect - from their super-sized council is much lower rates. But this is something that just will not happen no matter who is mayor. (Especially one who has promised free swimming pools for all and an extensive new rail link from Orewa to the airport!)
So with Len Brown as mayor he will be seen as the figurehead of the new Auckland and because lower rates will not be delivered – the adoring masses (let’s call it the Obama effect) that voted for him in 2010 with such high hopes and even higher expectations; will quickly turn toxic as rates go up and throw him out in 2013.

Channelling my inner Mark Twain

After reading the below article in today’s NZ Herald; I’m reminded of Mark Twain’s oft-quoted retort – after reading his own obituary in the newspaper – “Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.”

The Super City will open for business on November 1 with 1223 fewer staff than the existing councils and their business units, leading to a $66.5 million cut in the annual wage bill. The agency designing the Super City has trimmed staff numbers from 9430 staff a year ago to 8207. The heaviest casualties are among middle managers, but the chief executives of the eight councils have also been sent packing, replaced by Doug McKay, who has moved into the top job at the Auckland Council from the private sector. The Auckland Transition Agency says about 650 of the 1223 staff who will be lost in the changeover will be made redundant at a cost of about $15 million to $20 million, but has not said how much ratepayers will pay in golden handshakes to chief executives.

As one of those aforementioned ‘middle managers’ the article talks about – who is about to be given the gas in the super city shake up – I am unsure whether I should be laughing or crying about my impending career demise.
What I do know is that not even a wonderful story teller and satirist like Samuel Clemens (Twain’s real name) could make up some of the stuff I have seen during the transition to the new Auckland Council.
Here is an example of how I was originally told my services would no longer be needed in the new super city - bearing in mind it was sent as an automated email:

Dear David,
Thank you for your application for the position at Auckland Council. In this case, I regret to inform you that we will not be taking your application to the next stage of the selection process. However, I would like to acknowledge the time you have taken to apply and appreciate that this is a challenging time for everyone. If you are unsure about your options from this point within Auckland Council, Auckland Transport, or related Council Controlled Organisations (CCO’s), please refer to the guidance provided in your proposed options on the ATA Staff Transition website under your personal details. If you have further queries beyond that point, refer to your HR representative or Union representative in your organisation.
Regards,
ATA Transitional Recruitment Team

Gee, thank you very much ATA Transitional Recruitment Team! But, alas, I can’t pass on my vote of thanks because according to said email:

“This message has been sent via the Auckland City Council Snaphire recruitment platform. Please do not reply to this message using email, as we may not be able to respond to such messages.”

So hopefully you may now more understand why I am undergoing my current state of confusion on laughing or crying about this entire process.
However, to be honest, getting my death notice from the ATA is actually a bit of a relief. At least I know where I stand and my future is in my own hands and not in those of some anonymous automated email message!
And when I finally get to hear from a real person at ATA it is only a signatory on my termination letter which arrived today. Again, as befits the wonderful ATA organisation, it was frank and to the point.

Dear David
Notice that employment with Rodney District Council is to be terminated effective 31 October 2010.
On behalf of, and since 1 August 2010 under delegation from the Interim Chief Executive, the ATA has now completed this review as it relates to your position. Unfortunately, we have to advise you that the decision has been made to terminate your employment. Therefore, please treat this letter as notice of the decision that your employment with Rodney District Council will terminate on 31 October 2010.
Yours sincerely
Fiona M Johnson
Advisor
Auckland Transition Agency

Thanks Fiona! So there, my time at RDC is kaput.
The only problem is that I have an entire month left where I have to turn up to work all the while knowing that come November 1, I will not be part of the new organisation.
To all intent and purposes it is a bit like been on death row. My execution date is set, but I have a whole month to wait until someone pushes the button!
It is kind of surreal and painful at the same time.
In fact it is exactly how I felt when watching that movie "The English Patient" a few years back. I just wanted the hero of the movie to hurry up and die so the movie would end and I could go home.
So hurry up and die RDC, my time here is done!

What a bunch of tossers!

If you wanted proof that this country is becoming overly politically correct and fast losing its sense of humour – as if we ever needed to – then read on.
Last week, the Manawatu Standard newspaper ran a story about the children at Colyton School – a rural primary school – participating in the contest, in which pupils grabbed possum carcasses by the tail and lobbed them through the air to see how far they could toss them.
Apparently, since running the article, the paper said it had had complaints from people who strongly disagree with the practice and calling for the school to ban future contests.
Some readers even went as far as to complain to the SPCA after being horrified that children were being taught to "disrespect dead animals".
One of such do-gooder, Kim Rodgers, said she complained to the SPCA and asked for the possum pitching contest, and the entire practice, to be banned. Rodgers said she'd laid the complaint because "someone needs to do something to stop this".
Ah… wrong Ms (and I bet you are a Ms too) Rodgers. You are just a busy-body, loser with too much time on your hands!
Now the SPCA says it plans to talk to the school after getting complaints about its possum throwing contest. Palmerston North SPCA centre manager Danny Auger said while the school was not breaking any laws, but that did not mean schools should be "encouraging" students to mistreat dead possums.
"We have reasonably strong feelings about stuff like this and that is while it's technically not illegal, it's morally wrong to throw a dead animal around."
Auger claimed he was worried that the children were being taught to throw dead animals and questioned the judgment of teachers at the school.
"These are the people who are entrusted with educating our young people, maybe the teachers need to be educated on what's acceptable," he said.
School principal Colin Martin declined to make any comment and good on him. God, if there was ever sign that the SPCA is a bunch of PC losers this would have to be it!
FFS - these disease carrying, noxious pests were already dead! It is not as if they were getting hurt or abused. And, as far as I am concerned, it was teaching rural kids something very useful lesson – that the only good possum is a dead possum!
It is a pity the little, wanker from the SPCA did not have a quiet word with his mates at Forest & Bird – who would have told him all about the damage possums do to our native fauna. There are about 30 million possums in New Zealand that munch through around 9,000 tonnes of leaves, berries and fruit every night
Then there are the nasty diseases that possums spread among our cattle and deer populations. Does the SPCA's Danny the Dickhead not realise that cattle and deer are animals too? Or does he think it is more appropriate that kids worry about the welfare of dead possums than the suffering these nasty little TB carriers inflict on live animals and humans!
If I was the school principal, I would tell the woofter from the SPCA to fuck right off and go do something useful like hug a whale or neuter wild tom cats – which the SPCA is suppose to do anyway.
The fact is that real tossers in this situation are not the kids chucking the dead possums, but the do-gooders who complained about it and the SPCA for taking their complaints seriously.

Careful what you read!

ACT MP David Garrett was recently forced to make a personal statement to Parliament about how he used the plot of the novel The Day of the Jackal to fake a passport.

Garrett told MPs that he took the identity of a child – who was born about the same time as him, but who had died young – to obtain the passport in 1984 and described his actions as “harmless prank”.

Following these revelations, it got me to thinking what his statement might have looked like had Garrett been reading the book: “The Ice Man: Confessions of a Mafia Contract Killer”.

Here is my attempt:

"Twenty-six years ago while living a very different life, I foolishly undertook what I naively saw as a harmless prank, one that was to later have repercussions both for me personally and others who did not deserve to be hurt by my thoughtless actions.

"Using a method made known by the publication of the biography of Richard "The Iceman" Kuklinski The Ice Man: Confessions of a Mafia Contract Killer, I copied the actions of Kuklinski - an American contract killer, who during his 30 year murder-spree, killed numerous people, either by gun, strangulation, knife, or poison.

"His favored method of "icing" victims was the use of cyanide since it killed quickly and was hard to detect in toxicology tests. This would be variously administered by injection, putting it on a person's food, by aerosol spray, or by simply spilling it on the victim's skin.

"One favorite method of disposing of a body was to place it in a 55-gallon oil drum. Other disposal methods included dismemberment, burial, or placing the body in the trunk of a car and having it crushed in a junkyard. Bodies were also left sitting on park benches, thrown down "bottomless pits" and fed still-alive to giant rats.

"To this day I cannot explain the rationale behind my actions except to say; I was simply curious to see whether such a thing could be done.
I never used the murdered victims for any purpose. They duly expired and I later destroyed any evidence.

"Twenty-one years after I finished my murder spree and many years after I had began, I was arrested along with a number of others following a police inquiry into unsolved murders. This inquiry followed investigations, believed to be connected to that country's intelligence service, of a number of murders using the same method I had used.

"I was duly put before the court and admitted many counts of murder. After submissions by my lawyer, I was discharged without conviction. The court accepted that the consequences of a conviction for this offence would have consequences out of all proportion to the offending. I was also granted permanent name suppression.
At the time I committed these offences, I gave no thought whatsoever to the effect it would have on others.

"Following my arrest, I wrote letters of apology to the victims' relatives expressing my sincere remorse for the pain I had caused them. The regret I feel at the hurt I unwittingly caused these families is something I carry with me today and will continue to carry for the rest of my life. I cannot wind back the clock, but I sincerely wish that I could."

Garrett has now resigned as an MP. Good job and good riddance. Now if just the horrible, little bald man with a perma fake tan would do the same!

Not so smooth operators

Nobody asked me, but… an article in today’s Weekend Herald confirms my ongoing doubts about the masculinity of modern day men in this country.
The offending article – which has only reinforced my concerns – was a full page feature on the rise of the male equivalent of the brazilian – dubbed the bro-zilian!
Bloody hell! It is no wonder it has been 23 years since the All Blacks last won the Rugby World Cup.
I thought it was bad enough when we had rugby players poncing around with dye in their hair and running eye mascara! But you can bet it will be at least another 20-plus years before we see the William Webb Ellis cup adorning the NZRFU’s trophy cabinet if any of our elite footballers are now giving their crown jewels a wax job as well.
Can you ever imagine Sir Colin Meads contemplating a back, sack and crack wax job as part of his pre match routine! And just think of the amount of wax that would have been needed to denude some of our more hirsute former players like John Ashworth or Billy Bush!
Anyway, according to the newspaper report more and more numbers of New Zealand men are undertaking the bro-zilian and going bare down under. Apparently the treatment, which rips hair out of the entire pubic region, is slowly building a loyal client base all over the country (read, Auckland!) after years of – quite rightly – scorn.
Georgia Haney, manager and owner of Hair and Body Bliss in Auckland’s Mt Eden, told the Herald her bro-zilian clientele had doubled in the past year, with four new clients approaching the salon each week. She said her business had daily bro-zilian bookings and at least 65 regular clients.
According to another it costs $95 for a first time bro-zilian wax. Really? You mean there are men out there who are willing to shell out 95 large ones to have the hair ripped out by the roots from their groins!
Meanwhile, Nicky Shore said bro-zilian waxes made up 20 per cent of her businesses’ male treatments.
"There is no type of person that gets a bro-zilian; our clients genuinely come from all walks of life."
Sorry, Nicky I beg to differ. I believe there is a type of person who gets a bro-zilian – namely narcissist, gay boys who rate themselves.
And to prove my theory correct this tosser, a regular bro-zilian customer waxed – pun intended – lyrical to the Herald about how the world would be a better place if everyone had a brazilian. The 39 year old salesman, who did not want to be named (for fear of having the shit kicked out of him, I suspect), said he'd been having regular bro-zilian waxes for the past seven years.
The bro-zilian had ridden on the wave of metro-sexuality and was a lot more socially accepted now, he claimed.
"We live in a metro-sexual age; you can do what pleases you now."
This last quote only going to prove that the waxed one is likely to have a personalised number plate that says something like: “smooth operator” when it really more appropriate he had one saying: “wanker”!

Why should we bother?

With candidate nominations for the upcoming local body elections closed and the proliferation of election hoardings, advertisements and ‘vote for me’ flyers now dominating our space for the next couple of months; many of us will question why these people bother.
However, what we should really be asking ourselves is: why should we bother voting in the local government elections?
To most of us, local body elections hold a similar level of interest – and quite often a whole lot less – than the TV movie on a Saturday night.
New Zealand’s last local body elections, in 2007, attracted only a 44 percent voter turnout across the whole country. This figure was much worse in large metropolitan areas – like Auckland – where voter turnout dropped below 40 percent mark. The lowest voter turnout since the restructuring of local government back in 1989!
So why is it that people are not interested in local body elections; given the huge impact local councils have on our lives and on our communities?
It can be put down to two key factors: - ignorance as to what exactly councils’ do and general laziness.
While some people blame the calibre of candidates they are asked to choose from. One may have some passing sympathy for this point of view – especially when the nocturnal and financial behaviour by some of our local body representatives has left a lot to be desired – it is still a very poor excuse for us not to participate in the electoral process. It is also an insult to those soldiers who in past years went to war on our nation’s behalf and risked their lives so that we are now all free to vote how we want.
It’s often said that if people choose not to vote, then they should not complain about the outcome. However, as anyone who has worked in local government can confirm, that is just an adage. As people are only too quick to whinge about their local park, footpath, hall and cost of rates; even if they have never cast a vote in their lives!
And there in lies the rub. Despite all the claims about poor candidate quality, or protestations by people about lack of inspiration of who to vote for – the real problem behind such poor voter turnout, apart from laziness – is a complete lack of understanding about the role and function of local government in our lives and what services we actually get for our rates.
It is clear that the vast majority of people either do not know – or do not care – just how local government interacts with their local communities.
In a nutshell, regional councils manage broad environmental and other large-scale issues – including running regional parks. Meanwhile, district and city council provide services that mostly focus on land use, urban and community development. Some of the services provided by local councils include: local road and pipe networks (water supply and sewage disposal), rubbish collection, street lighting, public libraries, swimming pools and playgrounds.
However, one thing people do understand is rates and they are quick to complain about how expensive they are. But again, is this reality or ignorance?
No one likes paying rates, but do people really understand what kind of services they get for the amount they pay each year in rates each week – when compared to other costs? Figures provided by Rodney District Council, in its 2000-19 LTCCP, revealed that for the 2009/10 year, the average cost per household of rates was $39.75 a week. This compared to other weekly household expenses such as: power and heating $28.80; interest payments $75; insurance $39.30; eating out and ready to eat food $40 and – the real killer – government taxes at $392 per week!
Most would agree, on this analysis, that when compared to other costs and the services they get for them; local council rates are not that expensive.
So, I now know why I will be bothering to vote in the local body elections this year. Because I understand the impact local government plays in my life and I want to have my say on how it is run.

Look’s like Hubbard’s cupboard is bare

Old Mr Hubbard went to the cupboard
To find his investor’s cash
When he got there, the cupboard was bare
And the poor old duffer found he’d blown their stash!
I feel sorry for Allan Hubbard. It is clear, following last week’s statutory manger’s report, that he is just a poor, old duffer who is well past his prime, but he is no crook.
However, what I am sick and tired of is the irrational and tiresome whinging by his self-proposed supporters and their nonsensical campaign to “Save Allan Hubbard”.
They are actually doing the poor old bloke more harm than good and fast burning up any public sympathy that maybe left for the Timaru businessman
Despite a rather damning and concerning report late last week by statutory managers Grant Thornton, which had shown how complex and major issues there are around prospects of returns to investors involving Hubbard’s management of seven charitable trusts, as well as companies Aorangi Securities and Hubbard Management Funds.
Yet, Hubbard delusionary supporters have written to Prime Minister John Key claiming "the only evidence the Government has produced remains speculation and rumour, with no evidence whatsoever to support the reports so far produced".
Really? How about the following for evidence, then?
Last week’s report said investors in Hubbard's Aorangi Securities, already stressed because of the frozen funds, are unlikely to see any significant return of capital until next year.
Meanwhile, about 300 investors in Hubbard Management Funds (HMF) have been told the company overstated its value by at least 25 per cent on March 31, reporting non-existent investments and cash balances. HMF assets were worth only $61 million at the end of March, not $82 million as stated.
It appears Hubbard's widespread investments in the dairy sector are unravelling as lenders are unable to pay, leaving an estimated 50 per cent shortfall in interest payments. According to Grant Thornton, of Aorangi's loans to dairy farms only 17 loans out of 51 will meet their September 30 deadline interest payment obligations - a shortfall of $1 million, or 50 per cent of what is due to Aorangi investors.
That seems pretty strong evidence to me, but it is clear the Hubbard supporters are irrational and will never listen to reason.
I too was a strong supporter and admirer of Allan Hubbard. Especially the way he has conducted his affairs in comparison to other finance company shysters.
However, the evidence is now clear that Allan Hubbard, while not a fraudster, is just as culpable in destroying the wealth of many New Zealanders just like the Hotchins, Watsons and Bryers’ of the finance world. And, just like them, he has done it via combination of both bad luck and bad management.
I wish it was a different story, but it is not. It is time his supporters woke up and smelled the coffee – the emperor has no clothes and the cupboard is bare!