Curmudgeon - by Karl Du Fresne

Finally the time has arrived for me to sign up for the National Superannuation.

I put in my teeth, got out of bed, put on my brown carpet slippers , and shuffled down the hallway after telling the wife to stop shivering, we can’t afford electricity, she can just light the coal range. I went to the telephone and lifted up the receiver.

“Working?” I asked.

Nobody answered so I turned the handle and gave a long ring for the exchange and asked to be put through to Social Security.

I waited and waited and waited. I fell on the floor and lay down for a while. I got up and tried again. 

My saintly wife came along. “You silly old bugger,” she said. “You can’t do it like that anymore.”

“Do I have to make a toll call?” I asked. “Bother it. That will cost me quite a lot since it’s not after 6pm”. 

What the hell, I thought, I’ve paid my taxes all my life, the government can pay for the call. So I rang again and said, “Tolls please, I’d like to make a collect call.”

I waited and waited and waited. I fell on the floor. I got up and tried again.

My wife came along and said, “You silly old bugger. If you’d been alive in the 19th century you would have opposed women getting the vote. I suppose you still send out Christmas cards.”

As a matter-of-fact I do. I like those long closely typed letters where the typewriter punches out a hole instead of a c, and you tell everyone how well your grandchildren are doing. I think everyone else loves receiving them too, don’t you? They always read them several times over; never just throw them in the bin.

I went outside and tried to start the car. It wouldn’t go so I got out the crank handle, stuck it through the grill in the front and tried to crank it up. That didn’t work either. It still wouldn’t start. They don’t make these cars like they used to. When I was a young lad growing up in Waipukurau, you could ride into town standing on the running board without holding on, and the policeman would just ride past on his bicycle and look the other way. 

Everything is moving much too fast these days. When I was a young cadet reporter writing about crimes I was too reverential to even look the magistrates in the eye. We tipped our hats, called them magistrates then. Actually we called them sir. And we wore suits and ties, and shined our shoes even underneath where the soles were leather. And we wore clean underwear in case we had an accident and had to go to hospital. Today I see young reporters wearing anything to court, even sparkly trousers and black shirts with white tee-shirts showing. And they need haircuts. 

And if we were overseas reporting on a war zone, we were actually in the war zone, dodging the bullets as they whizzed past our ears, or gave us little holes in the lobes. These days they just get the footage from some big multinational media company, then stand in the Auckland newsroom and call themselves a foreign correspondent. 

Everything has gone to pieces in the world of journalism. They have it too easy now.

(Please wait while I put carbon paper between three pieces of paper, then insert them behind the roller in my typewriter, and type the next paragraph. I have to take this into town to send to Shayne by telegram at the Post Office because my telex machine is not working today.)

I kicked the car in the guts and got out my zimmer frame to go into Masterton to Hedleys book shop and asked for Alec. They said he’d passed on years ago. Nobody told me. I like a good funeral. Some young whippersnapper called David Hedley is now in charge who’s apparently friendly with The Beatles. Gah. What’s wrong with Burl Ives? I told him I’ve been advised to buy a book that everyone is talking about called Face. Apparently I would like it. 

Harrumph. We’ll see.

Editor -  Karl Du Fresne is a freelance journalist stuck in the Wairarapa region of New Zealand. In the presence of Greenies he boasts he walks to work each day - he paced it out and it is about 15 metres. Karl writes about all sorts of stuff: politics, the media, music, wine, films, cycling and anything else that piques his interest - even sport, although he's not a New Zealand bloke so cannot absorb as if by osmosis. He's been in journalism longer than Heather Du Plessis- Allan has been born and like many journalists just makes things up as he goes along. He has never won any journalism awards.

The Real Story - by Heather Du Plessis-Allan

Right so anyway about this new job. It has been a hard road for this sister I can tell you that much.

The 10 step plan started late last year when the NZ Herald asked me to do their "youth" column. Now I've been married longer than most people but that doesn't mean I'm not fresh and hip. Damn it.

Despite the pay, I took the column and the bull by the horns.  Here is my Story. 

1. First up a column about how I don't want kids

A superb idea as it primes any employer to know I'm not going to run off and have mini-Me's or mini-Bazza's.  It shows stability and that I am not going to put up with any of the sh** our sisters have to when they run off and have children.

2. Column about how much I don't want to live in Auckland.

Or more to the point how I can't afford to live in Auckland on my current salary. I know they want me there. This will up my pay demand without even needing to ask.  Whinge about the mortgage and Wellington house prices, nothing better for the framing of The Story.

3. Column about how small my house is

Big hint to Barry here.

4. Arrange campaign that Campbell needs to be hosted by younger presenters.

I confused that dimwit Martyn Bradbury into thinking I turned the job down! His credibility is now shot so am free of one less vile bile spewer on Twitter and the blogs.

5. Have meeting with Jennings at the Bolton Hotel

My best strategic move yet as was bound to be a complete disaster. Everyone meets at the Bolton and someone of course was going to notice us. If not then I had already slipped $50 to the reception to make sure this "unfortunate" meeting outing occurs.  To find the boss there having his own secret meeting was the icing on the cake and dutifully "leaked" by the nice Bolton staff as well.

6. Write column about how female directors are paid less than men.

I will slip in how I too could be paid a lazy $4m if I chose the right career. Back in the Christian commune in South Africa they said I could do anything I wanted with my life. I assume CEO of ANZ was what they were thinking.  And for good measure another column about equal pay. Bugger TVNZ.

7. Aim to have a lesser male with me as co-presenter.

That Garner is a dickhead. I mean he won't last long. He has already taken up crusade journalism. He's whinging about state housing being cold while I'm saving sheep and exposing McCully. I mean who is going to do better out of this?  New Zealanders like sheep more than they like state housing tenants.

8. Dodge angry female colleagues

They are all haters the sisters. They will congratulate me then behind my back already be looking to axe me. Write column about trolls. And yes I'm writing it for the bitches I work with. You all know who you are. Yes the ones who are Barry's age and have bitched about me for years, now all sucking up pretending they are happy for me.  They are not, they are miserable and it is cracking me up.  Surviving them is only as bad as one day in the Christian commune, I shall survive.  I shall survive.

9. Women's magazine

Yes I've already had the engagement and wedding in there. Easy.  One phone call.

10. Charm offensive everywhere.

Be pleasant and charming absolutely everywhere, like every comment on Facebook, be nice to the trolls. Even extra super nice to Barry.  I apologise profusely for the quote early on:

"She says she's looking forward to catching up with Soper during the day, but it when it comes to gathering news, the competitive du Plessis-Allan will not think twice about scooping her husband".  Oops sorry honey.

Cheers mate with my new pay packet I can buy you a house in Auckland now.

And that is the real Story.

Editor - Heather du Plessis-Allan is a thirty something year old trying very hard to avoid growing up. So far it’s working, except for the husband, the mortgage and the proper job. Since moving to central Wellington, she’s doing all she can to act more metropolitan than a girl who grew up down the road from an onion field outside of Auckland. When she’s not writing for the Herald on Sunday, she’s a political reporter for One News and an interviewer for TVNZ’s Q+A programme.  Is soon to defect to Mediaworks to present Story and no doubt face the wrath of every John Campbell supporter in the country especially Hamish Keith and Russell Brown if she actually ends up being fabulous.

Today I am Embarrassed that Queen Elizabeth is Our Head of State - by Audrey Young

I have not felt that in the past 21,645 days she has been monarch. Long may she reign over us.

But to learn today that she shared a smile with the public at Ascot makes me cringe.

It is one of those stories that denigrates her and her office.

But to learn about it just as she is about to present the Ascot Gold Cup to herself makes it utterly mortifying. It denigrates the occasion which has taken on a quasi-spiritual dimension.

The only thing funny about it are the inventive little clips appearing on YouTube.

Clips of Elizabeth calling the Queen Mother “Mummy” weren't particularly smart either.

The sharing-a-smile story is already spreading around the world.

We've already had Aussie radio stations calling our office to talk, delighted to be able to put the boot into someone else's Head of State. Just because they’re a republic and we can’t even make up our minds.

Tony Abbott has made two visits to New Zealand this year, in February and earlier this week, and Key scrubs up very well next to Abbott.

I haven’t seen Key in his Speedo’s, but I have a good imagination. I’ve got a brother. I expect The Queen would look good in Speedo’s too.

She is confident, eloquent and clearly comfortable in her role, so comfortable that she loves testing and breaching boundaries.

It is all a matter of fine judgment.

"Going too far" is not part of Elizabeth's deliberate trade-craft as a Queen.

She does things ordinary people might do but that have shock value because she is Queen; such as wearing matching hat and gloves; asking people in crowds if they’ve come far; hamming it up with drag queens at the Big Gay Out (I think the drag queens mistook her for one of them - Ed); and telling UN ambassadors about how Philip once asked a driving instructor in Oban how he kept the natives off the booze long enough to pass the test. .

That's why we were not amused when we viewed the clip on the website this morning, we all knew it was true before we got the Queen's confirmation and apology.

Sharing a smile is just stupid.

Editor - Audrey Young is the New Zealand Herald’s political editor, a job she has held since Barry Soper was in nappies. She is responsible for the Herald’s Press Gallery team. She first joined the New Zealand Herald in 1988 as a sub-editor after the closure of its tabloid rival, the Auckland Sun – they all ran away because they were terrified of Audrey. She’s sometimes called Aunty Audrey, but it’s not a term of endearment.  She switched to reporting in 1991 as social welfare and housing reporter. She joined the Herald’s Press Gallery office in 1994. She has previously worked as a journalism tutor at Manukau Technical Institute, as member of the Newspapers in Education unit at Wellington Newspapers and as a teacher in Wellington. She was a union nominee on the Press Council for six years. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. She thinks smiling should be banned. Believe it or not, she’s a friend of Bob Jones.

Caseload - by Jock Anderson

I am gay friendly 

I know that I am writing for an audience of twelve but in any case (load).

Late last year I wrote an epistle about gay lawyers

It lead to an avalanche of scuttlebutt about  gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, takatapui and intersex (LGBTI) and how they do their thing in large law firms. I had to remind a few people Charles Chauvel now works at the UN. Duh. Chauvel is a fabulous gentleman. In fact in 2008 I lived off his scuttlebutt for months.

It is common knowledge I trade in cheap gossip by finding x about QC X and then QC X trades not appearing in my column for spewing their guts about y. In fact I've written columns for years this way.

What makes me more interested as I don't even need to sit in the Queens Ferry to write this column anymore I can be at my residence on Waiheke Island. People keep coming to me with crap about lawyers.

The rooting, the backstabbing, the bitching and the moaning I have covered. The sensationalist headlines? Easy. I mean since my ergh abrupt departure from the NBR since the "unfortunate incident" I have had my niche at the NZ Herald stirring up shit about anyone I want. Despite you know, never actually getting on the "fairy" to Auckland despite eligibility for Winston's Gold Card. I just can't be fucked. 

Law No Place For Mature Lady Briefs

According to the 2013 Census, 55 per cent of lawyers are aged 44 or under. Too many. They are distracting to my friends who are male in the profession and above 65.

Customised data indicates that while 43 per cent of male lawyers were aged 44 or under, they were outnumbered by 71 per cent of female lawyers in the same age bracket. Too many women.

Women make up 46 per cent of all lawyers and made up 62 per cent of those admitted to the profession in 2013. What the fuck was the NZ Law Society thinking?

Women far outnumber men in the age group from 20 to 44, but drop away sharply in the age group 45 to 70 plus. Yes because they take all their first husband's assets and don't need to work!

The number of female admissions overtook men for the first time in 1993, and while Law Society data shows women make up 57 per cent of lawyers in practice for 20 years or less, women make up only 2 per cent of lawyers in practice for 40 years or more.. That's because they all end up shagging them!!  Jesus I would like to but none have offered, Even Lady Chambers.

John Banks' affair not yet over

Expect heads to roll over the botched Crown case against former Auckland mayor and ACT MP John Banks - acquitted and exonerated the other day by the Court of Appeal on a charge of knowingly making a false electoral expenses return.

In the Banks case, the Crown - in the form of prosecuting scum Queen's Counsel Paul Dacre - failed to tell the Court of Appeal of a crucial memorandum it had which was also not disclosed to Banks' lawyers.  Outrageous.

Banks claimed the Crown knew, and were a bunch of scum to throw him under the bus because he's not a member of the establishment.  It was a grand "fuck you" when Mrs Banks saved him.

John Banks was acquitted and exonerated the other day by the Court of Appeal on a charge of knowingly making a false electoral expenses return. 

B*st*rds still and more promised

B*st*rd monitor, John of Wellington, is hard at it.  Hard I say.

"Judge Robbie Ronayne is a moody b*st*rd.  Moody horrible.

Judge David Harvey a very clever b*st*rd.".  

As for Auckland Crown Solicitor Brian Dickey, John says there will be more to come.  He's just Hooton's play thing and we all know he's a b*st*rd.

Dickey had success at the Ellerslie races the other day, as part owner [along with Queen's Counsel Paul Francis b*sr*rd Wicks of Rooting and others] of galloper Gravano.

Reluctant as he is to stifle freedom of speech, CaseLoad is obliged to comment on some other matters raised by John:

"Whether or not there is, or isn't, gossip in racing circles that Mr Dickey's firm Meredith Connell has, or has not, received briefs in horse racing related prosecutions is nobody else's business.

It may well be that such legal work has been handled by Bell Gully for more than 60 years but even if some of what you say is true then perhaps it's time some fresh blood got a piece of the lucrative action..." (No one has a fucking clue what you are ranting on about Jock - Ed)

Thought For The Week:

(From a Very Senior Legal Person) "the Dude behind John Banks has MOOBS.  I tell you. MOOBS.

Note from Editor - Jock got a column when the NBR red carded him. I can't sack him because well argh...I am not sure about that but lawyers live in fear of what he serves up and it means our lawyers are kept in line so jolly good please continue Jock.

Media Watch - by David Cohen

I came over the rise of the hill and the road to Huntly stretched away like a tantalising ribbon unwrapping an unexpected gift before my heat-glazed eyes. Above my sun-scorched pate, but below the azure heavens, telephone wires sang in a manner which pneumatic chested country-and-western gals with names like Loretta and Dolly and June never imagined they could. So this is hinterland tourism, I figured. This is let-down-the-ragtop and shoot the breeze, and no there would not be no tortuous twang of “Stand By Your Man” polluting the sophisticated sound system of this rented auto with my driver. Freedom from Nashville! Freedom from Hillbilly!  Driving really is for peasants.

To be sure the genre has its place, in unsophisticated outback halls mebbe, packed with bow-legged, tobacco-chewin’, spurs-a-janglin’, ruddy cheeked sing-alongers. But surely one must graduate sometime from listening to that endless wailing variation on the theme of somebody done somebody wrong songs?

By Jehovah, if only the mulish music media critics would, as we do, take a little time to see what else is going on out there in the land of staffs and minims, brackets and clefs, tablatures and breves, tempos and caesuras, sharps and (Enough! - Ed). It isn’t too damn well difficult when you subscribe to, read (You really read them all? - Ed) and write for, as many international publications as – cough – yours truly does? Have they not heard of Dylan? Gaga? Leonard? Forgive my modest familiarity but we have interviewed most every muso around, so can supply their full names for those not on such intimate terms as we have been since but a Hutt Valley domiciled minor gangsta, hustling words for coin.

So it is we turn to lament my inability to figure New Zealanders and their tribal hysteria over the ridiculous spectacle when packs of men start hurtling themselves around, chasing or hitting balls across lush, mud-spattered fields of grass? We mean to say, really, at the mere mention of two words “World Cup” the foam-mouthed nation collapses as one into a sea of cringe-inducing idiocy. This is swiftly followed by those poor excuses for sports jocks spurting their grunts and oiks into our poor excuse for a daily media. Cricket? Rugby? Suppresses yawn. We don’t know anything about these so-called sports, but I’ll wager they were invented by the British, who as one tribe, cheered on by those Nazi loving royals, are responsible for everything stupid in this world.  

And look at the screaming masses on the side. Do they know the meme? If they had to really apply their brain to watching courage in action we could take them to boxing but it should be wasteful. Would they know the first thing about boxing? But just don’t call it a sport. It’s about …oh why should we bother you’re all so ignorant. It’s a lost religion; leave that on the table.

A while back we wrote a column “My Time With Andrew” which, as the yoof like to say, went viral. Truth be told it had nothing to do with media commentary, but ‘twas a whine about not being paid by the Labour Party for three months (Why in such a hurry? - Ed). So occupied were we with commissions to pen our thoughts for The Grauniad, The Chronicle of Higher Education, the Christian Science Monitor, the Jerusalem Report, the Financial Times, the (Shut up - Ed) it entirely slipped our mind to post an update.

We was paid. 

We always knew a bit of casual political advice on the side for Labour was going to be risky. But when you’re a snotty expert on the Middle East question as we are  (nyah nyah Jon Stephenson) and have dodged bullets and rockets, well you get down and get back up again; you don’t have rocks in your head like everyone else.

So finally, speaking of rocks in heads, we do think it very pre-moderne for some media folks to still be banging on about plagiarism being theft and all.  Seriously, copying and pasting sentences out of someone else’s article, and just rearranging them a bit, is the same as republishing a press release. As the saying goes, nothing in the world is original. (Chuckles to ourself) – see, we just plagiarised that.

Shalom.

Editor - David Cohen has dropped out of everything – school, bassinets, sight from time to time, and once lived in a home for delinquent boys in Lower Hutt (a fact he loves telling anyone who can be bothered listening). Taxpayers’ money will be used to make a movie of his life this year, with Leonard Cohen rumoured to be playing David Cohen. Cohen (David not Leonard) writes columns for anyone who will pay him without his having to have questions raised in Parliament.

Metro - All By Simon Wilson

Simon?

Simon?

Half an hour late now for deadline!!!!!!!

The whole magazine is due and we have no copy!!!!!


Ed - What do you mean he's left?

New Zealand Sport In A State of Mega Crisis - by Chris Rattue

New Zealand sport is at a crossroads, I predict it will turn to crisis very shortly. At the New Zealand Herald we all love a good crisis in a headline.

The All Blacks aren't that good. They have only 93.70 points in the world rankings. Richie McCaw is hopeless. There's twelve better faster open side flankers in Auckland club rugby alone right now. Dan Carter? Well he can't kick can he? They're all too old. And the possible replacements? Well they're all too young. Aaron Smith? Nah inconsistent and unreliable. His pass isn't great. Sam Cane? Over-rated and has sat in waiting longer than Camilla did for Charles. Should have already gone overseas if he was any good.

Let us face facts rugby isn't played seriously by any country in the world that matters so I don't know why New Zealanders are so passionate about it. World leading countries like China, Brazil, India or Russia survive without rugby. Even the Americans haven't taken it seriously until sevens (not a real sport in my opinion) became an Olympic sport. The NZ sevens team will lose to America. They won't win a medal, waste of time offering up All Blacks for the season. America has the best NFL and college track rejects to choose from and sevens is dead easy. Pick up ball and run really fast.

Our cricket team are still hopeless. They came second in the World Cup. Second I repeat, first LOSERS. McCullum the worst captain we have ever had. At least Howarth had the booze to blame for daft captaincy decisions. Kane Williamson? Well his batting average could be higher couldn't it? And captaincy will bugger that all up. Trent Boult? An average bowler at best with injury issues and Ronchi? Well he can't catch and even when he does do something well just remember - he's Australian. The team lacks consistency. A bit like the All Blacks really as they haven't won every game they've played and they should.

Lydia Ko? Nah she's not that good, beginners luck. Valerie Adams? Not that flash. Wouldn't win a thing if it wasn't for the fact she's a large Samoan. It's not her Palagi side tossing that rock is it? Her brother Steven? Yeah well he's only in the NBA to sell shirts. In New Zealand alone 100 have been sold in South Auckland alone. You know they aren't really into basketball those South Aucklanders. Too busy ruining the Blues rugby dynasty. The players are the problem, Islanders, can't communicate with JK. They need someone in Tana Umaga, a Wellingtonian who can teach them how to catch and pass. And read. Umaga was paid large six figures to front that campaign. The Blues have him for a steal.

Shaun Johnson? Hopeless. Only scored 512 points for the Warriors, not enough. The Warriors are in a total meltdown. Every year they should win the Premiership but they don't. Must be the ownership battles leading on to the field. Owen Glenn and Eric Watson can't decide whether the ball should go forward or back.

I don't know why New Zealanders bother watching cricket, rugby, league or our hopeless netballers. Just when the longer good their best players get pregnant or retire. Irene Van Dyk? Left the team in a total state. Not the best goal shooter that I've seen. Probably would have been better for New Zealand if she had stayed in South Africa. Netball has been in a decline since April Ieremia left to read the sports news.

Joseph Parker? Well he's fought bunnies really. Never been tested. Too slow and not big enough to make it past the next level. He should just quit and do what every old boxer does, train new ones.

House prices? Oh god don't get me started on the property market. I met a bloke last week who spoke a lot of sense Bernard Hickey. Yes he commentates on business how I do on sport. The glass is not only half empty but it is non-refillable.

Don't believe the rumours that we have both never been seen in the same gl....I mean room......

Editor - Chris Rattue is employed by the Sports New Zealand as a motivational lecturer and columnist.  Like any good Herald columnist he double dips in his regular missives in New Zealand's leading newspaper. Always looking at the negative, Rattue has embarked on a mission to ensure every New Zealand sportsman and woman gets to read an alternative perspective on their performance. When asked about rumours he was also in a commercial partnership with Gilbert Enoka, sports shrink to the stars Rattue responded that Enoka was "pretty bloody average really".