Cracker by Damian Christie

I think the old Santa was less creepy.

I'm not telling Foreign Affairs how to do their job, but having spent today being blown around Wellington in increasingly deteriorating conditions, I can only imagine how the conversation must have gone yesterday:

MFAT: I'm sorry, you have to leave Wellington and return to Fiji immediately.

Fijian diplomat: Are you being serious?

MFAT: I'm afraid so, you see we can no longer toler... Where'd he go?

Really? That's your idea of punishment? Leave Wellington and go to Fiji?

There's a reason why people interviewed at the airport today were still happy to jump on those Fiji-bound flights. As New Zealand comes out of the coldest October in over 60 years and a November that hasn't started well, it's not only the diplomatic situation that's warming up in Suva.

The only person really suffering here is the poor NZ diplomat who has to pack his bags and head back to the capital. I'm guessing it's not regarded as a good look to delay your symbolic return home to spend a few personal days soaking up some rays?

The mo' is going okay, thanks. It's currently at the awkward stage. The hardest part for me is shaving every day, to keep the mo' in sharp relief, as required by the rules. Usually I shave once a week, coincidentally the same day I'm on telly.

No word yet whether Key succame (is that a word? It should be) to pressure - the pressure of 130-odd of us who joined my facebook group, but I suspect the news ain't great. On the other hand, my own campaign is still happily accepting donations. $5 will do, and you don't even have to come to my stupid church or wear a crappy ring of loyalty. Bowing and surprise gifts are entirely your call. Donate here please!

And thanks for your advice and wishes on the run. It was heeding such advice that saw me withdraw the day before. I'd been limping a bit, and figured a sore ankle at the start of the race wasn't going to magic itself better after 21kms and in fact was more likely to see me back at the physio. So, yeah, sorry, wish that story had a more interesting ending. Next year.

Two big things happen this Sunday.

The first is that I'm going to attempt my first long-distance run. It's "only a half" marathon, but for someone who absolutely detested running at school – I was so slow that growing up in Singapore, sweltering runs down to the swimming pool were all the crueller in that by the time I got there, everyone was being told to get out and change for the ride home – it's something of a masochistic personal victory.

I really only want to do it because I've never walked over the harbour bridge (and as that's about the 15km mark, walking's probably exactly what I'm going to be doing) and it seemed like a good opportunity. Also, after doing a six-week detox for Metro a while back, booking in another short-term fitness goal seemed a good way to stem the inevitable undoing of all I'd achieved.

Seemed.

It didn't work of course, especially as the first run of a fourteen week training programme (thanks for the loan of the book Mr Slack, I'll get it back to you on Monday) saw me pull up lame with an inflamed bursa in my heel. Boring story, but basically limping and physio for six weeks. Then Indonesia for a couple, where I almost died twice trying to run in 30 degree heat while smoking cheap Asian ciagarettes. And then back home, to condense the 14 week training programme into three weeks. Or rather, ignore the advice of Mr Jon Ackland, author of "Half Marathon: Week-by-week coaching system" entirely, and design my own schedule:

Week 1: Run a bit to check that I still can.

Week 2: Run a bit more

Week 3: Just when I should be winding down, run further than I've ever run before, but still only half as much as I'll need to on Sunday.

I reckon I could market that. Especially if it works, and I can complete the damn thing. Who wants to faff around with a 14 week training programme when they can do it in three? Exactly.

Wish me luck.

Secondly. For the first time, I will be taking part in Movember. Previous attempts have been thwarted, generally because people look a bit dumb while in the process of growing facial hair, and when you're on the telly, apparently, that's not on. If you want to grow facial hair, you've got to do it in your own time, and then come back and surprise your boss with a completed beard or mo. And even then they can, and probably will, tell you to lose it.

I remember trying to grow one a couple of years ago when I was working on Close Up. I argued vigorously with my boss at the time. It'll be great, I said, I can do a story on it, first hand experience, mo-diary, what have you. "Movember is stupid" he said, or words to that effect. 30 days later, as seemingly ever other man in the country was sporting a mo, he ate his words, and commissioned a story on the closing party. Sure, I could gloat, but without a mo myself, it was a bitter-sweet victory.

So this year I don't care. I think my show's producer said it was okay, but whatever. I've announced it on the telly, so I can't back down.

The most important thing about Movember however, is not growing the mo. It's about raising the money. As my mate Jim, who's one of the original Mo Bros (from Australia, you know) says, if you grow a mo in Movember without registering and raising a bit of cash, you're just someone who wants to look creepy to his workmates.

As appealing as that is, I've registered anyway. And I would gratefully appreciate your donations if you can. Seriously. Even a couple of bucks. Especially if, like me, you're someone who does okay on the money front, and thinks it's a great idea to donate money to good causes, but never does. If that's you, chuck in $50. Go on. It'll assuage your white middle class male guilt. Donate here.

The other thing I want to try and encourage, is for JOHN KEY to join me. Now, I know that John's made some supportive comments about Movember, and that's great, it really is. But supportive comments are a dime a dozen, and I think our Prime Minister really ought to put his upper lip where is mouth is. After all, he's shown he's not afraid to make a bit of a dick of himself for any number of reasons, and those things weren't even really for a genuinely good cause. Not like prostate cancer and men's mental health awareness. Wouldn't it be awesome to have our big-gay-out-dancing, blue-cast-wearing, hula-dancing, muscle-shirt sporting, Letterman-appearing Prime Minister sport a bit of facial fuzz for a month? Goooooo on John. If you do, I'll personally donate $500 to your Movember profile.

I've even set up a facebook group to encourage people to help encourage John. You know what to do.

So it turns out that I didn’t come to a sticky end in Sumatra, in case you were wondering. I did see my first shark while diving, but it scarpered before I could so much as get my camera out. There was an earthquake, but it was about 500 or so kilometres away, and I didn’t feel it – in fact at the time I was a lot more concern with the torrential downpour, rising river and the fact I was sleeping rough, only a thin groundsheet separating me from the jungle floor.

The Sumatran earthquake was a good example of the relative importance of world news to New Zealand. A big earthquake, a death toll currently over 1100, but could I find anything on the local news websites among all the coverage of the Samoan tsunami? Of course I understand the relative importance to New Zealand despite the much lower deathtoll, we have a massive Samoan community with loved ones back home, kiwi tourists were killed etc, but as I say, my priorities were more geographically immediate, and it was difficult to find much at all.

I want to write about trip in some detail – (Orangutans in the wild! Weird and wonderful creatures while night diving! The worst bus trip ever!) and will do, but time is at a bit of a premium right now. I've work to catch up on and then on Friday I'm off again (this time with my Beloved, rather than the propose-and-go-away-diving-by-myself-for-two-weeks, because otherwise I think I'd come home single).

This time it's a weekend in Melbourne, something of a social networking experiment courtesy of Tourism Australia. Officially we're calling it a TwiTrip, but because I'm using facebook and publicaddress and everything else, it's a bit more than that.

Bottom line: I'm in Melbourne for the weekend, from Friday night to Sunday night. I'm looking to spend the whole time shopping, drinking, exploring, and generally doing whatever people suggest. Weird and wonderful, hidden gems, you name it. Feedback at the end of the thread, or Tweet @damianchristie anytime from now until Sunday. Best suggestion gets a present on my return!

Here's a few dive pics from diving in Pulau Weh in the meantime. A cool Porcelain crab, Allard's Clownfish and a couple of blue ribbon eels. (Thanks Ben at Dive Safari Asia for his constant help with the fish names too!)

As the title of this post suggests, it's been a good week at Cracker HQ.

On Monday, Wallace and I hosted a Back Benches Super City Special at the Northern Steamship Co here in Auckland. As Russell would say, "I thought it was a very useful discussion", and it's worth watching, here.

What was evident was the support, both from some of the main panel (which consisted of Rodney Hide, Phil Twyford, Sue Bradford, John Carter and Pita Sharples) and many of the crowd, for Manukau Mayor Len Brown's bid to Rule Them All. My discussion with the current local mayors (other than Banks, who was a no-show) was quite amusing, particularly Bob Harvey who won't say whether he's running, but says he won't be announcing it this early on if he is.

Even if it ends up being a two-horse race between Banks and Brown, it'll be very interesting. Many of my friends, who wouldn't have pissed on John Banks if he was on fire a few years back have now come around, mostly after the disappointment of Dick Hubbard's terms. Banks has come back more humble (or at least has been convinced to talk less) and kept his head down for the most part. "He get things done" tends to be what my friends tell me, and whether this is true or just a great line in spin, that's what will win him votes.

So that was Monday. On Tuesday, I'm delighted to announce, my darling (and some would say, long-suffering) Rebecca agreed to marry me. Which was nice, as Harry Enfield might put it.

The third part of my history pilot went up this week too. As requested by someone, somewhere, I've included the first of the Country Calendar spoofs, the farmer who plays the musical fence, from 1977. Unfortunately I've had to cut it down - from 15 minutes to about two or three - which is pretty brutal but hopefully you still get the sense of it.

The fourth part should be up on Monday. It'll be the last for a little while, but it looks like things are going to happen there (more good news this week), so fingers crossed and watch this space.

Calling all bird lovers - Forest & Bird's annual Bird of the Year competition is underway again, and this year I'm the Campaign Manager for the mighty Pukeko. Which basically means if you read this, you really should go and vote for our beloved Swamphen. Please. We're being beaten by the Takehe, which is like a rubbish version of the Pukeko - it can't even breed properly.

Finally, I'm sitting here waiting for my taxi to take me to the airport. I'm off for a couple of weeks of diving, ape spotting and general japes in Indonesia. I hope to blog at least once while I'm away, if not I'll give you the lowdown when I get back. Bye!