Heat by Rob O’Neill

I'm baaaack!

I flew in to sunny Auckland on Friday and immediately and unexpectedly got embroiled in a stag night around the viaduct.

All aged 30+ as far as I could see, we were playing drinking golf, a game in which 18 nominated drinks each get a par rating. You keep track of how many gulps you take at each to score.

By the end of the night no one was really scoring any more, and I guess that was the idea.

Having kipped down in Devonport, I made a leisurely ferry trip back, went out for a milkshake hangover cure, then a coffee and picked up the newspaper for a quiet afternoon.

Then it all fell apart. Gordon bloody McLauchlan. Will somebody put this crone out to pasture? Please!

Now I know columnists are supposed to rile you, but not by being stupid and incoherent. His column on Saturday said a lot about Gordie, but not a lot about anything else.

He starts off on youth suicide, which he admits he doesn’t know a lot about. Then makes the highly dubious claim that it is harder today for kids to be individualists than ever before.

Then this:

“I was in a bar recently and watched groups of young suits, you know, the guys who are supposed to be thinking laterally on our economy’s behalf. Every one of them was drinking a certain popular lager straight from the bottle, the worst way to drink any beer.

“Last year it was a different brand but it has been out-of-the-bottle for several years now. These guys are grown ups and they are slaves to conformity.”

Can’t you just imagine Gordie, sitting defiantly in the corner laying down a challenge by taking his turps the old-fashioned way. Those boys must have been quivering.

But, dash it all, someone has to take a stand.

Our leaders should take note. Several measures should be implemented pronto following Mr McLauchlan’s revelations.

People who drink out of the bottle should not be allowed to reach positions of authority in our society. We should immediately implement screening procedures, at our universities say, to ensure these conformists are weeded out.

Bottled beer should only be sold to brave individualists, our unheralded poets and artists, who will know how it is supposed to be drunk – poured into a fine, clear, cold glass.

These people should be easily recognisable, because they are, well, loners. They’ll probably be alone and dressed oddly.

Thank you Gordon. The road ahead is clear. Let’s take it, as a nation. Together.

As I said, Gordie, basking in his own superiority, managed to say nothing about nothing much. Personally, I think there’s poet among those suits. There’s probably a few who have families to raise and are doing it the best they can. One might be a paedophile. Another will resign next year, disillusioned, to become a teacher. Another will found a business empire and employ thousands.

Suits, like anyone else, are not black and white, no matter how they take their lager.