Not proud

It's been a while since the bombings here and it is fair to say that, logistically at least, things are pretty much back to normal. It's the subtle things that have changed and today I found myself guilty of something I was not particularly proud of.

Getting off the tube from the Northern line heading towards the Piccadilly line; I was walking behind a fully decked out Middle Eastern chap with a fairly hefty back pack. 'Way out' left, 'Piccadilly line' straight on - my inner voice said, 'your's is the left turn pal'. On the basis that he was fully kitted out in his national garb. Never mind the fact that I was wearing the Enron approved kit of the capatilist bastard that is trying to rip you off via 'legitimate business means' - I'm a good guy.

I am sure I am not the first to think that, in fact I know I'm not. The Police are obviously thinking along the same lines. Mohammed, one of my Network Engineers has been stopped and had his bag searched no less than four times in the last month. And he is starting to get pissed off.

Which begs the question - racial profiling - right or wrong? Discrimination and victimisation, or practical policing?

Racial profiling is essentially picking out those that fit the profile of those you expect to commit a crime - and paying them particularly close attention. Is that fair? An extreme minority of a particular racial group has committed some crimes, more importantly, they have declared their intention to do it again - so what useful purpose is served by the Police searching a little old lady?

More to follow on this when I get some time - but you can probably tell by the amount of question marks in this post that I am swinging a bit on this one.

One thing is certain, I feel sorry for Mo (hammed) and all others like him that are going about their business and feeling harrassed. The bastards that did this have bought misery to many they intended to, and plenty of their own as well. Do they care? I doubt it - fundamentalist = wanker.

American dates had me in Pieces

It wasn't until I noticed a comment declaring me a 'pieces' that I realised that I had my birthdate on my blogger profile around the wrong way. It is of course 11 December which has me firmly in the Sagittarius fraternity.

For fear of being seen as duplicitous, I thought best clear that one up!

This works a little too well

If you want to sum up this Election in a sound bite - try this for size from the movie (blockbuster they tell me), The Matrix:

Morpheus: "This is your last chance. After this, there is no turning back. You take the blue pill - the story ends, you wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill - you stay in Wonderland and I show you how deep the rabbit-hole goes."

As I say, that works a little too well to be a co-inky-dink (although I don't know if I would call a nanny state, full of well above the average wage earning 'beneficiaries'; 'wonderland')!

Everytime it's the same

Like every team I support, just as they have torn at your heart strings to the point where you feel like a Corrs sisters violin, just when the most recent kick in the guts has you questioning your sanity for supporting them - they do something like this:

Newcastle today pulled off a sensational transfer coup when they finally managed to persuade England striker Michael Owen to keep his World Cup dreams alive on Tyneside.

In a move which dashed the hopes of former club Liverpool of securing the 25-year-old's return, the Magpies completed their club record swoop - believed to be in the region of £17million - for the Real Madrid star to hand manager Graeme Souness a massive boost.

Fan-bloody-tastic. A breif respite from the stream of bad news and mediocre performances! Wah hay - while some people laugh watching us get all excited, the smart ones are of down to the booky to put a fiver on a broken leg in his first game out.

Bank holiday Monday - before...

Note the recalcitrant and unruly shrub on the right.

And after..

I spent the first part of the day giving the garden the same sort of treatment the hairdresser gives me (note the recalcitrant plant on the right now! Short back and sides - Dad style!!). I then parked up with a wine and the lappy to do some work in the sun before tomorrow. Not all bad!

Update - I suppose I best mention the guest star. Lola, she would be that cat that calls the shots around here.

Addressing an issue at source, or not...

My deplorable habit of having one last wine and fag before (and I mean immediatley before) bed has lead to a mini crisis (Fran - 'I told you so' is ringing through my ears!). The 'pearly whites' have started to trend towards the 'distinctly not shiny whites'. Not surprising really, and completley understandable - in terms of cause and affect, it doesn't get much simpler.

What is slightly odd, and dawned on me this evening, was my response. An electric toothbrush, and 'simply white' tooth enamel - sure to radiate your smile in just 2 weeks! All well and good - but one does have to wonder why I just don't have a good brush before bed and flag the last fag and wine?

I have tried to initiaite a health kick off late - but am finding sleeping the major issue. More to follow...

The text of Kapa o Pango

It sounds like 'the new haka', Kapa o Pango, has caused quite a stir back home. Also rompting a debatge as to whether or not it should replace the traditional Ka Mate. I don't have strong feelings either way really. I'm typically a traditionalist - but the text of Ka Mate isn't particularly relevant - and a bit of thought has obviously gone into Kapa.

Either way, like your best black leather tie in the eighties, it seems that this one will only be pulled out for 'special occasions'.

Kapa o Pango

KIA WHAKAWHENUA AU I AHAU!
Let me become one with the land

HI AUE, HI!!
KO AOTEAROA E NGUNGURU NEI!
This is our land that rumbles

AU, AU, AUE HA!
And it's my time! It's my moment!

KO KAPA O PANGO E NGUNGURU NEI !
This defines us as the All Blacks

AU, AU, AUE HA!
It's my time! It's my moment!

I AHAHA!
KA TU TE IHIIHI
Our dominance

KA TU TE WANAWANA
Our supremacy will triumph

KI RUNGA KI TE RANGI E TU IHO NEI, TU IHO NEI, HI!
And will be placed on high

PONGA RA!
Silver fern!

KAPA O PANGO, AUE HI!
All Blacks!

PONGA RA!
Silver fern!

KAPA O PANGO, AUE HI, HA!
All Blacks!

Mother haka!!

Having been dragged out of bed for the code yesterday - we were a touch late and missed the haka. Various people mentioned it to me, Mr Whitney was still buzzing. Now I am all for a good haka, but I did think at the time that the frenzied raving was due to Mr Whitney getting full value for his 9am Steinlagers - but now that I have seen it - fair play mate!

Brilliant, and a great effort to keep it under wraps until the Test. What is it about the 'Brook? If I am not mistaken, it was there that Tane Randell first belted out the full introduction to Kamate?

The avi of the new haka is here - not sure for how long.

Persistence and caring

I talked to Kathryn late on Friday and we exchanged our plans for the weekend. I told her that I planned to go caveman and work Sat and Sun - in order to have a clear mind and be able to enjoy a day off and a few brews come Monday. I had already told Whitney that I wouldn't make our traditional date at the Finchey Road Walkabout for the code on Saturday morning.

So come Saturday morning at 7.30am (not my best hour) the phone starts ringing. It's Kathryn, it's respectfully ignored. 7.45am, phone rings, Kathryn again, bless you and leave message. 7.50am it's Mark. To be honest - by this stage it was simply - f*&k off!! Two more calls followed and I stayed strong and ignored them.

A ringing phone is easy to ignore - but when a Kiwi, all fizzed up and ready to go for a Springbok test match, starts screaming, 'get up pikey - we're off to the rugby you lazy bastard' through your window, there's no ignoring that. And bless his ten toes for doing it!

After throwing on some clothes, a little profanity and checking the 'do', it was off to the Walkie. It was packed and about a 50 / 50 NZ and South African split. I don't know if it was the atmosphere that got me carried away - but I did declare it one of the best Test matches of recent times.

Kevin Mealamu was (in my humble) the man of the match. Piri Weepu looked every bit an All Black half back. Magic. The only thing that was wrong was a clueless frog with a whistle, he killed the game at every opportunity and was generally mystifying. That said - even the Safa's I have talked to have said that if anything - we were on the wrong side of his humour more often that not.

But who cares! Brilliant atmosphere, titanic game, great result - and the only reason I was there to see it, was that Kathryn cared to much to let this sad old bastard miss it!

Thank you my dear.

Speaking of home

It is obvious that it is not just Wellingtonian's that up anchor as soon as there is a sniff of a day off. It is a Bank Holiday Weekend here, so I have Monday off. The timing could not be better.

And like Wellington, it appears that the natives have headed for the hills. I wouldn't go so far as to say that London is deserted - but it is not far from it.

Might be a good weekend to get some things done in town me thinks, that is assuming that anything is actually open!

A strange sort of home sickness

As you know, I have been a touch stressed of late and I have just figured out that blogging, as well as been a bit of fun, is also an abstruse way of feeling closer to home.

I often worry that when I blog (honestly) about being stressed, or that things are not going well, that Mum and those close to me will read it and worry that I am not happy etc. Well, I am pleased to report that I encountered a new emotion tonight, namely, 'wish you were here'ism'.

The last few days have been hellish - but tonight I got home and realised that I am well set up, in a pad that I love, earning good coin and living here in London town! Constantly exposed to new experiences, new sights, god knows new smells (I forecast some issues with the tubes in winter - but that is for another day), and I am loving it.

But, there are times, particularly after a shite day, where I would love to be able to see a sunny evening in prospect, pick up the phone and invite people close to me around for a barbie - much in the tradition of Apartment 24! I long for the traditional Monday night wines with Rhys and Rach.

Yet, as much as miss that - Mum and co, take it as a good sign that I am in a pad worthy of the invite; and that as much as I miss home - I would much rather I could have the lot of you here - if only for a quick barbie.

For those that don't know me particularly well, to me there are four things that matter.

Breathing

My Family

My four walls

The rest

2nd could mean pole position

I have just had a quick read of another member of the vast right wing blogging conspiracy - Gordon at NZPundit. He has a fairly dire outlook for The Nats in the upcoming Election:

Election 05 - State of Play
On any fair assessment it would appear that the centre-right is heading for defeat on September 17th (insert the usual disclaimers). Present polling would indicate that the total centre-right vote hasn't shifted since the last election. There is still a five to six point margin of voters more comfortable with the centre-left than the centre-right and I don't expect that to change, even with the release of the competing tax policies. If I'm wrong and National manage to at least draw level in the next polls, I'll hang up my punditry hat (at least for this election).

There are two problems. Firstly the failure of political management to shift centre voters from Labour to National. Secondly, and I believe more importantly, the failure to articulate a credible alternate vision to shift the political centre rightwards.

National's political management in this campaign has been patchy. No matter how much we on the right would like to spin it they have been constantly bested by Labour in timing, execution and delivery. Most of the less important failures (debates, racing cars, policy bungles and suchlike) can be sheeted home to the unexpectedly poor performance of Brash, but in the big stuff of policy delivery they've been made to look like amateurs by a Labour machine astonishing in its ruthlessness.

I would have to say that, from what I have read, it is hard to disagree with his analysis. Particularly the last line - I have always maintained that one of my major frustrations is that Labour 'do politics' far better than anybody else. Look at the policy reversals this year - if that doesn't point to a stay retain power at all cost - what does?

All I would add is that this may not be a bad election to lose. On current numbers, even if Labour were to hold 41% (they won't - more likely 37% odd) - they would still need Peter's. Two words, sod that. Or for the Nats - been there, sod that.

If the Nats get anywhere close to 35% - that should be enough for a decent research unit, some decent airtime in the main stream media, and to be well positioned to take over when a Labour / NZ First / Greens coalition falls over.

A quasi realistic / optimistic prediction - we shall see!

Tell me they are kidding

One of my first posts from London town was entitled "Here now, and somethings got to change...". It was basically a rant about the amount of coins I had accumulated after just a few days. My first pint here cost £1.97, my first coffee was £1.74 - ridiculous. Not only is involuntary copper conveyance annoying as hell, it slows the service industry up something shocking as people on both sides of the till have to frig around with mountains of change.

In terms of pricing - the retailers seem unwilling to change their ways [that's awful - Ed], so a glaring need for a sensible rounding policy is identified, no? Not for the Brits - for every annoying problem is a farcical solution - a 99p coin. I kid you not. From pipex UK News:

99p coin would save shoppers millions

The introduction of a 99p coin could save Britons an estimated £133 million in discarded coppers each year, according to research out on Monday.

About 52% of people said they saved their 1p and 2p coins in a jar, but others said they simply discarded them, collectively wasting around £11 million a month, according to Virgin Money.

Just under half of people are frustrated with shops charging prices that end in 99p, while one in three people said they would support the introduction of a 99p coin.

All I can take from that, is that one in three people in Britain ain't too bright. Surely this is not in addition to the existing pound coin? If so, what happens when you buy something that is £2.99? Three coins come out of your pocket, and a smiling face tells you, "you're 2p short mate".

Aaarrggghh!

UPDATE - it gets worse!! So someone buys something that is 99p with their flash new coin - bully for him. What about the guy next to him that buys the same item with a fiver? He gets two 2 pound coins back - and still gets a f*&king penny!

A solid excuse

Above is a group of people gagging for a good excuse for a beer on a Tuesday night - and the best they could come up with was to masquerade as a softball team. And it worked brilliantly! Knock some leather about, get to first base [for the first time since touching down in London? - Ed] a few times and then we could get down to business.

We could walk into a pub, trainers, shorts and t-shirts on (and the sucker that had to carry the kit even had a sweat on!), we looked every bit the modern sporting unit.

But aside from the social aspect - which was great - the Hudson softball yankee's finished the season in a very respectable second place. It was one of the first thngs I did when I got over here and it has been great fun. Naturally, there were high's and low's, the low's typically followed the ball going high when I was in the outfield.

Unlike some of our opposition, having a good time actually factored in our reason or being there. Some of the sledging was priceless - and targeted at ourselves in the main. "Eyes front lads, concentrate now" was common place on warm summer evenings in Regents Park - for obvious reasons...

The moment of the season was, without question, the delicate 'tapping up' (of the literal variety) that Kyle gave an opposition first basewoman on the way round. Class.

It's official - Payroll is evil

The fact that it is a 'necessary evil' only serves to make it all the more loathsome. Probably the worst day since I have been here. Getting things sorted out felt like whipping cream with a knitting needle.

If I hear, 'yeah, it should be right' one more time, I swear I do someone a mischief. I even caught myself uttering a dad'ism to my team today; "Come on team, could we show a little urgency please!". I had a smile when Dad's voice popped into my head with some reassuring words - 'Don't panic, you'll get there - you always have. Head down and make it happen, son.'

Dad made management look easy, that is probably what convinced me that I wanted to be a manager. I now know 2 things for sure: firstly - damn he was good! Secondly, it wasn't really as easy as he made it look - and that is part of being good.

I have to work on not allowing myself to wear my stress on my face. In fact, I need to stress less full stop.

Time to leave and start again tomorrow. But tomorrow won't come before a couple of wines and a freckin flash dinner with Kathryn in Camden. Cost will not be considered this evening. "Dear Frit, treat yourself! Lots of love, Frit (you silly, but lovable little man)." [Oh dear god, he's talking to himself again - Ed]

Times have changed

When I was a bairn growing up in NZ, if Mother has tried to kit me out in a pale blue, cotten ribbed,two piece tracksuit - I don't know who would have beaten me up first, the lads at school - or myself.....

But over here in London town they are everywhere. And wherever they are, they are just wrong. I was going to take a photo to show you what I was on about - but self preservation got the better of me.

Weird

Outside of family, I think visitors to Kiwilog are typically people that are unhappy in their jobs and, rather than kill their boss, choose to kill time on the inter web instead. Fair enough - happy to help.

But I don't quite know what to make of the person that has dropped by as a result of searching for picadilly style moustache!

I don't know what they were looking for, or how I figure so highly in the results, but it sounds well dodgy to me!

MJD - is 90 slides a week enough to swing your vote?

I haven't had time to drill down on the details of Nationals tax policy - but would be interested in reaction from back home. Comment away people...

I see the some left types have come out screaming election bribe, hilarious. Student Loans cash for free policy anybody?!?!

Anyways - it looks like a couple of editorials have reacted favourably. All that has to happen now is for Don to forget detail and preach philosophy. Do we want those families earning 60 to 100 K paying their own way with their own money? Or going to the IRD, cap in hand, begging for some of their own money back to do the same?

It is the same money people - it is just whether you want to pay for a pen pusher to 'redistribute' it - returning, at best, 75% of the original worth - or leave 100% with the people that earnt it in the first place?

Day one and we are 'live'

Today was day one of my roll out. A bit of a false start to be honest - as 'push won't come to shove' ('or the shit won't hit the fan' may be more appropriate) until our first major payroll run in a couple of weeks. It was nice to feel 'that project buzz' again on the way to work this morning. Damn that's sad - but it pays.

All is well so far - but as I say - early days.

Another thing it has thrown up is the prospect of a London winter. It is bleak today, and was well dark and raining on my way home. It is hard to imagine these circumstances married with a cozy 2 degrees. Oh well, that is a concern for another day - 11 million others deal it - I'm sure I'll cope.

A very Frit'ish day

Buzz (flatmate) was at a festival yesterday and last night - queue - Frit hunkering down for a classic caveman day. I got a power of work done, sorted the washing, tidied the room, cleaned the kitchen, cooked a mini roast, had a few wines, devoured a newspaper, caught up on emails and hid from the world.

Alone time. A bit of solitary, bliss.

Which has left me well placed for a bit of Oxford St shoppery, wines in the sun and a bit of dinner with the Jones girl. All is well.

This is my club..

Taken from an unofficial Newcastle match report after yesterdays nil all bore with West Ham:

Anyone who bought a season ticket for the the first time will doubtless have been questioning their own sanity as they trudged out of St.James' on Saturday.

The final whistle was greeting with some booing, while that old favourite "sack the board" got a brief airing outside the main entrance.

But most fans simply suffered in near -silence, neither cheering nor booing, just seemingly resigned to being yet more of the same turgid rubbish that made last season virtually unwatchable.

How long they'll stay quiet though remains to be seen.

Another year of over priced depression. The Newcastle Chronicle were just as optimistic:

Beneath clear blue skies and amid a light summer breeze, Newcastle proved that storm-clouds remain on the Tyneside horizon.

And the mood of the natives after this bore draw was black enough to suggest the wind of change could soon blow through the United dug-out.

Against a side promoted via the play-offs, favourites for relegation, fielding a 39-year-old up front and reduced to 10 men for most of the second half, United drew a depressing blank.

For Graeme Souness, the forecast looks bleak.

If the Magpies manager and hierarchy had not realised the latent resentment among fans at a summer of near-inertia after a year of decline, it all but boiled over after yesterday's final whistle.

So I get myself to London to support the team I have loved for well over a decade and they thank me with the excitment and drama of a potential relugation battle. Bastards! Yes, I am bitter - but still for some paradoxical reason reason, it only serves to make me more determined to stay loyal.

A due sense of apprehension and dread

That is both one of my favourite sayings and exactly how I feel now. My first big project goes live this weekend. To say that am nervous is a bit like saying that Winston Peters doesn't mind a drink or two. But I am equally excited - I suppose that is why I do what I do.

Just kicking off the data conversion now, should be finished tonight for testing tomorrow. Then the fun starts on Monday - watching the reaction of the consultants as they bitch and moan their way through change. I haven't done the same sort of 'PR Job' that I would have back home, partly because I am new and unknown, but also because I just don't think it is the done thing here. The audience (consultants) are so dry I fear some of them might spontaneously combust.

There has been the usual complaints from the front office, 'I am a consultant - not an admin' (delivery adamant and indignant - response 'yawn'), 'it will take too long to load things', or my personal favourite, 'who will be doing this for me?' (queue, 'um - why do you think that it is you that is been trained?').

Deja voo really, coupled with the occassional strong urge to deja voodoo the odd prima donna! The back office folk are much more grounded types. They are just quietly, and quite sensibly packing themselves! First major payroll run isn't for a couple of weeks, so success or the unthinkable won't be known until then - and until then, mines a double.

It is going to be an interesting few days!!

Turn away Mother!

I imagine most people have seen the first of the campaign ads, and without launching into the pro's and con's of policy, I have to say I found the Nats first effort very encouraging. It's funny. For a political ad - it is catchy and clever.

What pleases me most is that National are trying to rebrand. Many times on My Right I implored them to lose 'the born to rule', 'blue blood image'. For gods sake - be human! If this ad represents the way they intend to present themselves for this Election (backed with sound policy) - then I am well pleased.

Click here or the ad (and other keynote speeches - just for the insomniacs out there).

Warning - the author of Kiwilog openly admits his complete inability to resist the temptation to turn his into a quasi political forum for the next month or so. The expected drop in readership is anticipated!

Foot in mouth

Last night, I had a shocker, pure and simple. The Hudson softball team were at a pub having a couple of beers after the last game of the season (we lost - match report over). Good times and a really good group of people.

The conversation turned to football and which club various people supported. Being a Newcastle supporter tends to draw more sympathy than anomosity these days - so I had no dramas there. Then someone mentioned Simon supporting Tottenham, "what, the f*&king yids! Why would ya!?!?" I enquired, with all the subtlety of sand paper based toilet paper after a dodgy curry.

Simon is Jewish. Recognisably, happily, proudly Jewish. Yup - nice one Chris.

I couldn't believe what I had just blurted out - I felt horrible!! But Simon (for the record, an Arsenal supporter) took it as what it was, a verbal brain fart! No offence intended - none taken - time for one for the road....

For those back home that don't know what the above is all about, below is an extract from a Tottenham supporters website:

What is the term "Yids" and what has it got to do with Tottenham Hotspur ?

The term Yids derives from the Jewish supportership of THFC. Coming from the language Yiddish, it is a slang term for a Jew. There is a large Jewish population near to the area Spurs play in and they have traditiionally followed Tottenham although now quite a lot support Arsenal too (their chairman and some of their directors are Jewish also).

Having had this thrown at Spurs as a derogatory term, the supporters of the club adopted it as an unofficial nickname and also so that it would not have the same effect if other clubs shouted it in an anti-Semitic manner.

Therefore, Spurs fans chant "Yids" and "Yid Army !" to deflect the racist attacks of other clubs.

OCD

OCD, or Obsessive Compulsive Disorder as the Doctors call it, is a funny old thing. Personally, I don't think it is a disorder at all - in fact the world would be a much better place if more people took a few of the properties and values of OCD on board.

That is not to say that it is not without is problems. Bra straps - a potential Waterloo for any Obsessive Compulsive. Leave it Frit - leave it...

This morning on the tube I had to stand there for 20 minutes looking at a girls shoulder (it was quite literally in my face) - a green singlet and white bra, the strap an unkempt inch out from the singlet. I wouldn't have rated that worthy of blogging - had it not been for the fact that the one on the other shoulder was only half an inch out. And yet, despite this, she seemed happy.

No longer 'nowhere man'

The strangest thing about my first couple of months here was not knowing a soul (with literally a handful of exceptions). I could just mosey about the place basking in complete anonymity. In short, it is very easy not to give a toss when you can be sure that no one gives a toss about you!

It also made me realise how horribly uptight I was back home. Worrying about what others thought of me, and being more than a touch judgmental when it came to said others. And to think that was in that bastion of conservative chic – Parnell! Your threshold for being shocked is greatly altered by a month walking the streets of Camden town!

But that changed a little on the bus this morning when a wave of familiarity washed over me. With my new found 'routine' I started to recognise the same faces on the bus, hell I even smiled at one of the regulars.

There was the tall skinny guy that should realise that a dodgy moustache will only ever be a pipe dream for him. Lose the fluff mate.

Then there came late girl - always flustered but unusually apologetic and polite. How she does her make up standing up on a double decker bus remains a mystery.

Things got eerie when I suddenly felt cold. I turned around, standing right behind me was a face I didn't recognise - undressing me with her eyes girl. There she stood, shamelessly tearing at every thread with her rampant imagination. Oh well, I guess she is new, still basking in her complete anonymity.

You might have to be quick

I'm sure that 'that Oxford address' has been replayed many times back home in the past few days - but particularly for the folk that find themselves on this side of the world - here is the link to the address on the TVNZ site.

Lange - Oxford address

Watch it and imagine the American reaction. Who was this man taking issue with the 'greatest nation on earth', and with such eloquence and flair. Not to mention the fact that his position only seemed more and more valid the more he was challenged.

To even attend that debate appeared to be political suicide, Lange made it one of the most significant pieces of nation building in New Zealand's history.

Disappointment

The Premiership got under way last weekend, and it looks like it is going to be yet another year of farce and satire for me. I have had my share of downs supporting dodgy teams in the past, go the Warriors, the Football Kings, Wellington.... but there is something special about The Newcastle Comedy Club.

What started as a half decent and spirited performance against the arse on Sunday was transformed with a ridiculous sending off. Just to add insult to injury, the referee admited as much today and apologised to the player, manager and club.

You can't tell what would have happened in the game had this prick not decided that in football kicking the round thing is a no no, but it is clear that the Newcastle Comedy Club is set to provide another season of disappointment and slapstick.

David Lange

I really cant explain why - but I am really feeling the impact of Lange's passing. We would have argued like crazy over policy, but it would have been an enjoyable conversation I am sure.

His wit was legend - his charisma well known - but it was that his underlying warmth and generous spirit could shine brightly through that which really won me over.

Democracy - worm style

I see that the first leaders debate has taken place on TV 3 and to be honest I don't know what rarked me up more. A Judge quite rightly saying that it was inappropriate for him to step in and demand that TV 3, a private company, should have give air time to two of the more sanctimonious people in New Zealand - and then do it anyway.

Or the return of that bloody worm! It was responsible for Dunne taking 7 muppets with him last time round - that in itself should have led to it being banned. If you think I am getting carried away - try to name 2 other United Future MP's. Tricky innit!?!?!?

The people of Wigram and Ohariu-Belmont must be a strange lot to return Anderton and Dunne time after time! But the fact that 7% of New Zealanders were convinced to vote for a completely anonymous nothing party on the basis that a self selected sample ohhed and aahhed at just the right times terrifies me.

Please tell me it won't happen again!

In Scotland, there is no such thing as bad weather - only the wrong clothes.

So said Billy Connelly some years ago and as a fan I feel it is only fitting to test the theory first hand! So I am off to Scotland.

Truth be known - it was the lure fantastic tickets to the All Blacks v Scotland test that won me over, bloody brillaint! Again, thanks to Mark and Kathryn I will be taking in a little more of Europe, and I can't wait to see Murrayfield chocka with crazy Scottish types. If the Scots I met in NZ were anything to go by, it should be an absolute riot.

We're not heading up there until November 25th - but it is nice to have something booked and paid for to look forward to. Even better is fact that, at this stage, Mark has booked and paid for it all.

In true Scottish fashion - the cheques in the post my bonnie lad!

Don't use a Freud to do a Joseph's job

I am sure it must be related to being stressed at work (implementing a new payroll system for a couple of thousand temps with no time for full testing fits that bill nicely) - but a few of my 'favourite' recurring dreams have stopped by over the past couple of weeks. All fairly standard, lost and unable to get to work, stuck to the spot (sometimes unable to throw a punch to defend myself), paniced on the morning of an exam at Vic - all classic anxiety dreams really.

But the losing wallet special that I had last night was particularly intense. Without having the resources of an ancient Pharoah in a Lloyd Webber musical - I decided to have a quick google on recurring dreams. It turns out that these are fairly normal and represent anything from 'a natural outlet for stress' - to 'often indirectly warning us about current behavior patterns or psychological imbalances that we need to remedy if we don’t want such unpleasant dreams to repeat, or worsen'.

Hhhmm, as a commited practitioner of denial I thought it was best to stop digging! But not before I came across this little barb from Sigmund;

Since dream anxiety is intimately related to neurotic anxiety is must explain the first by reference to the second. In a short publication on anxiety neurosis . . . I argued that neurotic anxiety derives from sexual life, and is the expression of unsatisfied desire which has been diverted from its goal. This formula has since then been proven valid. It enables us now to say that the sexual content of anxiety dreams is the result of transformation of sexual desire.

Now to create a link between a lost wallet and 'sexual content' is a stretch (on occassion I have lost the contents of my wallet in the pursuit of some 'sexual content' - but never the wallet itself), the Freudian advice, as ever, seems to be that shagging is the cure of all ills.

Well Mr Freud, dodgy, dirty, seedy, pants pulled up, nipples erect, all excited, busy handed, ready to go, bastard that you may have been - your advice has been noted!!

Arachnophobia, over rection and harming yourself

Picture this, you have wet hands - you shake them with a little flick to rid them of water. You have sand on your feet - shake shake with a little hokey pokey action, not a prob. Something lands on your head, it is dismissed with a nonchelont nod.

Now picture this. Frit hangs up the phone, heads to his bedroom, looks down and sees a not insignificant sized spider pearched on his shoulder - trending upwards. This f*&ker was not the size of a hand - but was well big enough to give me the fear.

I almost put my shoulder out. You simply can not make a jerking action, of the variety required to dislodge one of these bastards, with your shoulder. If you doubt me - try it in a quiet moment. I was giving it the full Peter Garrett, 'Beds are Burning' treatment - nothing doing.

I eventually managed to get my top off with my other arm and proceeded to river dance all over it - probably not good karma - but karma was the last thing on my mind at the time.

Softball semi tonight

Things are getting serious in the Bankers League Softball championships! Semi final night tonight, the suns shining and it will constitute the first excercise (albeit fairly gentle) since starting work.

I hope the bloody shoulder holds out!

Needs

Today I was in a bit of a flap running late for a meeting. I had needs, needs damn it. What I did not have was the support crew (that had taken seven years of being hopeless and needy at Hudson to establish) I was used to having.

I asked a PA for a pad and a highlighter. She duly obliged, disappeared and returned with a pad and a highlighter.

The pad - yellow. The highlighter - yellow.

Is it just me!?!?!?

London Lessons

If you are in central London catching a tube - and the name of the place you are going to is on the front of that tube - you are going to be on that tube for a bloody long time!

In Uxbridge today, from Kings Cross head to the middle of nowhere, make four 90 degree left turns and continue.

Busy busy

I'll be a touch crazy for next few days [obvious dig overloooked - Ed] - so, barring major incidents, things will be a touch quiet here for a few days.

But expecting a phone call from Mum tonight which will be great.