If you want cheesy music - have you seen Dave Stewart's latest effort?

Some comparisons between Isaac Gilsemans and William Hodges' work features in the book 'Strangers in Mohua : an investigation of the first recorded contact between Maori and Pakeha' by Robert Jenkins. It tries to set some context around the 1642 visit, including speculation on the presence of Moko at that time and place.

Gilsemans first encounter with Polynesians was fairly tragic. Close to a major trading route during a time of tribal rearrangement, he watched 4 colleagues get brutally murdered and spent 4 days trying to find uninhabited access to drinking water. Hodges arrived 125 years later in a more peaceful place with a Tahitian ambassador and a trunk full of trading goods....

I've only seen one episode of The Big Picture and found Hamish's rapid delivery a bit slurry and hard to hear - another good reason to try Freeview out. Otherwise Robert Hughes could teach him a thing or two about booming arty round vowels for TV.

Quinn's factoids and Muzza's tangents are great, but pastiche is better...the only thing missing from Alt. Rugby is Alt. agricultural adverts.

If you're looking for an agricultural dram, try MacDowells 12yr Single Malt, made in Bangalore. Curiously peaty, they also make fertiliser.

With regards to our nightly-communal/ritual-fix of TV c*nt-watching, might I suggest that the Repeal of Section 59 debate highlighted a recent (below-normal) dip in objectivity?

I also wonder if John Campbell is getting a proper nights kip at present? His script/segueways have been kinda wierd (self-acknowledged), and CampbellLive's agenda seems to be a delayed mirror of Hard News'.

Perhaps Russell could sell Carol and Mark Jennings a Simpsons-esque tabloid-concept Hard News. Or is that kinda what Eating Media Lunch is trying to achieve?

The first and last time I saw them was at Orientation late 80's/early 90's. I was young, they were pulsing in the background, there was a beer-blur in the foreground.

Sometime later Mark Tierney presented the live video of 'Diamond Shine' on the "annoyingly catchy" RWP music show. I was mesmerised, and started waiting for the day I could see these guys strut their stuff.

Fifteen years later...
I was watching three guys who appear to know each other very well. Polished but self-conscious, indulgent but concise. Emphasis when you wanted it, giving way to something you didn't know you wanted. The cadence, comradery, punches and distortion were studied and free. I don't know if maturity is bad thing or not.

All I know is 'Diamond Shine' was a whole lot shorter than I remember it. But I got all the repetitive riffs I needed.

I was heading south for a few days work in the mid-90s. So, I jacked up a friend to stay with. A few quiet evenings of quality time with some cobbers and their new baby, and perhaps a chance to explore Port Chalmers?

Shortly after arriving, we had a cuppa, sorted out beds, and started preparations for the evening meal. Dave announced that the neighbour was having his birthday party that night, and we were obliged to help him celebrate.

It was agreed that we’d pop over for a few beers and a slice of cake. The baby was feed, bundled and put to sleep. We took a detour past the bottly, and trundled back up the hill to the neighbour’s place.

There was a hum of chatter from the back of the house. A familiar looking woman welcomed us in, and helped settle the babe into a quiet room up the front. A few more familiar faces arrived, and I realised I was standing amongst the local rock royalty.

Introductions were made in the hall in the hall. “I’m Mary-Rose, this is Brian, this is Norma, Alf, and Bob’s outside fetching some wood”.

Bob Scott came in with an armload of firewood, gave a cheery welcome and continued on his way, while bearers of casks and cakes continued to smother the tiny kitchen table.

As the house warmed up, so did the stories: conversations had with the local JW’s, cheap aussie reds vs thin local whites, gossip and tantrums from the Loser’s recent tour, rumours of a WINZ dobber-inner, strange and magical fans at equally strange venues, road patrol duty at the local school, new directions for paintings, the strange orange fungi appearing in George’s armpits... with candle-lit gestures, animated on the walls.

More guests arrived, including Michael, who looked to have taken a shortcut through a gorse hedge. He was greeted with standing applause, followed by a round of “Cheers, Creative New Zealand” - his funding success wasn’t just a triumph for experimental noise…

“So, is Michael a challenging neighbour?”, I asked Dave. “He’s considerate. If someone gets the lawnmower out, he’ll sometimes entertain the street with a weird harmonic to accompany it”.

While I pondered community-minded noise-cancelling, I couldn’t help thinking of Port Chalmers like some kind of Flying Nun/Xpressway Biosphere. I just hoped no one got injured.

The glasses were charged. It was time for cake, and a rousing old song that everyone knew the words to. We congratulated Bob, made our farewells, collected the babe, and headed up the road.

Well, I'm not sure, _"what exactly...Sean Plunket mean to say when he signed off his first, slightly tetchy, interview with John Key"_

But I was even more puzzled by Mr Key's mention of his 'values' speech, and the emphasis given when he said, "which I've written myself".

I really don't know whether to believe him or not, but I certainly enjoyed the sound of (mutual) surprise in his voice!

Perhaps he developed a personal love for crafting rhetoric during his 'Greenspan' years in NY? - A bottle of Emerson's for the first to prove he didn't write today's speech.