» Stupid Tourists

Right. That's it.
I've read far too may posts taking the piss out of tourists visiting the UK who can't pronounce 'Worchestershire' or 'Warwickshire' or even 'Auchterarder' for God's sake! I hereby cordially invite every person in the UK to visit New Zealand and attempt to pronounce 'Paekakariki' or 'Maunganui' or 'Te Puke'(yes, a real town, Yank tourists love it)correctly. When you fail dismally, I shall be straight back on the board to tell everybody how thick you all are.

Bah.
(Sat 9th Jul 2005, 2:09, More)

» Weird Traditions

I also give the finger...
....to inanimate objects (signs, cows, houses)whilst driving. I drive a lot for work, and it passes the time. Stopped doing so for a while after giving the finger to what I thought was a scarecrow, but was in fact an elderly woman standing near the roadside.

I'm back in to it now though. Yay the mighty finger of mingus!
(Sat 30th Jul 2005, 10:17, More)

» School fights

Fire extinguisher + small room = revenge
Many years ago I was a student at a Catholic boys school, renowned worldwide for Mass Testosterone Buildup and Random Acts of Violence.
Art class was in progress, when Steven, a twat of the highest order, thought it would be a good idea to stab me in the arm with an indian ink pen. I still have the involuntary tattoo.

Several minutes later, twat of the highest order entered the art supplies room, possibly to refresh his ink weapon.

Locking the door from the outside was easy. Discovering a small hole in the wall took but a few seconds. Grabbing the fire extinguisher off the wall and filling the aforementioned small room with noxious, choking gas (and listening to the resulting screaming coughing fit) was priceless.

Steven 0, Mingus 1.
(Mon 13th Mar 2006, 6:39, More)

» Airport Stories

Never trust large black men
Anyone who has ever done the loooooonghaul flight from NZ to LAX to Heathrow will tell you it's not a pleasant experience. Mine was made even less enjoyable by a large black man.

After 12 hours in the air, I disembarked at LAX and made my way (eventually) to the BA checkin for the connecting flight to Heathrow. Half way there, aforementioned LBM stopped me in my tracks and offered to 'take your bag, Sir'? Initially I resisted, but being a not large Kiwi (and noting he had a gun) I handed my wordly possessions over.

Five days later my backpack turned up in London. I'd spent the previous four days with nothing to my name bar a free T shirt from BA (extremely generous of them I thought), a travel toothbrush and a London A-Z.

Best of all, I'd stuffed a load of damp washing in to the backpack before leaving NZ (crappy hotel washer/dryer), thinking I'd be in the UK within 24 hours.

I was. Backpack wasn't. Shall remember the stench for the rest of my days.
(Wed 8th Mar 2006, 5:16, More)

» It's not me, it's the drugs talking

Pink Floyd is baaaaaaaad, m'kay?
I worked for a radio station in the late eighties, and was for some reason put in charge of taking a tour bus up to Auckland, New Zealand to see Pink Floyd live.

Your esteemed tour host managed to:

- Smoke and drink a little too much on the bus, then throw up on one of our valued guests and pass out.
- Make a miraculous recovery, then get off the bus in Taupo and light up yet another doobie. On the lawn in front of the Taupo Police Station, as it turns out.
- Settle in to the little seat next to the driver for a wee nap. Lapse in to a coma. Be carried in to the concert, only to awaken just as a huge inflatable pig made its way over the crowd. Slightly unsettling.

I don't do drugs anymore. Can't for the life of me think why.
(Sat 17th Dec 2005, 18:30, More)