Cracker by Damian Christie

There's been some weird social debates going on in the past week, and that even before we discovered our Commander in Chief is shooting blanks. Two debates in particular, both involving racism, apparently: Andy Haden's 'darkies' comment, and the bizarre furore over a radio station promotion, 'Hug a Ginga Day'.

I would say I don't consider pakeha with red hair to be of a different race to the other pakeha I know, but the Christchurch father who dragged his two children on to Close Up last week did - although it was hard to work out exactly what he believed, as he jumped from strained point to point.

The first episode rated so well (almost twice that of the competition in the 25-54 demographic) and by all accounts had incredible amounts of feedback (1500 emails was the number mentioned on the TV), so the debate was repeated the next night ­­- same main two players, this time 'face to face... for the first time!' That night I'm told an unprecedented 30,000 people voted in the phone in poll ("Is Hug-A-Ginga Day harmless?"). Ratings were almost as high as the night before. On Friday night there was a third story, marking the actual day itself. All stories were incredibly watchable, especially those involving the quite bizarre father of the two redhead children.

On the week the Three Strikes law passed, virtually without mention, was Hug-A-Ginga day the most important story of the week, nay the year, meriting not one but three prime time spots? No. Will the Public Address readership decry this as yet another example of the decline of current affairs television? Undoubtedly. Did it, as they say, 'rate its tits off'? You betcha.

I don't know that the story itself bears much examination. A radio show with a history of puerile behaviour (and two hosts with a history of quite nasty treatment of others, including a co-worker, and who coincidentally and weirdly the same week opted to tug at heartstrings with a story on their inability to replicate (no comment)) decide to promote 'Hug-a-Ginga Day'. Are we supposed to believe, as Dom Harvey would have us do, that it's a day to undo all that bullying that goes on and say "actually mate, you're all right"? Or is it really just a day to reinforce the fact that Gingas are different? Do redheads really want to spend a day fending off people coming up to them wanting hugs? At least one 'bright-brown' friend of mine suggested most certainly not.

As I say, it doesn't bear much examination, and as a stupid promotion on a brainless radio show, hosted by idiots, it probably was never intended to. Certainly not the glare of three nights of current affairs television.

The 'darkie' incident is much more fascinating, for me the best part is watching people work out which is worst, Andy Haden's choice of words, or the fact such a quota might actually exist in our most successful Super 14 franchise (and in the case of more hardened rugby fans I've spoken to, whether it's a formula which should be emulated by the team they support). A discussion with my taxi driver confirmed my fears - as a coach of a prominent high school team - he believes the style of rugby currently in vogue is not conducive to teams with an abundance of our coffee-coloured brethren. (I can say that, right? Coffee-coloured? I love coffee. Who doesn't?) It seems ridiculous to me, but I know almost nothing about rugby, and even less about racial characteristics and stereotypes vis-a-vis the current rendition thereof.

Should Andy Haden be removed as an ambassador of our national game as it is about to be propelled onto the world stage?

"I know Andy, and Andy isn't a racist," say any number of rugby commentators. Perhaps, but if not then he is part of a very small subset (or is it a superset) of people who aren't racist but think it's okay to use the word 'darkie'. Perhaps the same subset of people who aren't sexist but think things were better when women were expected to stay at home and pop out kids. The same subset who remember back when a dog called Nigger was just a dog called Nigger. When men were able to drink a bloody beer in their section of the pub without having to listen to the shrill sound of their womenfolk. When, to probably misquote the late Douglas Adams, Men were Men, Women were Women, and small furry creatures from Alpha Centuri were small furry creatures from Alpha Centuri.

John Key's initial instincts were right. Of course Andy Haden shouldn't be a bloody ambassador for the Rugby World Cup. As I believe it was Jim Anderton said on Backbenches last night, he shouldn't be an ambassador for anything. Of course if he is going to be an ambassador for anything, then the NZRFU is probably his best shot. Remember we are talking about an institution which only last month apologised for decades of racist treatment toward Maori, and only then because South Africa went first. If Andy is out of step with the current attitudes of the NZRFU, it's only by a fortnight. Actually, he's apologised hasn't he, so I guess they're even again.

And so Muzza McCully has taken this into account hasn't he? Old Andy can stay. Muzza says fair suck of the sav, he's a good keen man old Andy. Straight as an arrow, old Andy. Racist as the day is long, and a bloody decent bugger with it, old Andy. He can stay and represent our country, and our national game. Top bloke, good old Andy. He's on the level, old Andy. You know where you stand with old Andy. Old Andy? He likes to call a Spade a Spade.

It's certainly been amusing watching Britons get themselves into a flap these past few days, working out who is going to take up residence at No. 10. So much for the traditional stiff upper lip, the anxiety has been palpable, and has resulted in protests calling for reform, commentators wandering around like headless chooks and in at least one case, exploding on air.

I love that we in New Zealand have adopted a condescending tone as we see the chaos caused by what we have come to expect since 1996 - no clear winner on election night. Oh aren't we clever for having adopted MMP, the subtext reads, look at how disproportionate the outcome, how unfair for the Lib Dems. Aren't we mature for approaching Government formation in such a consensus building manner. One news item I saw was tellingly phrased :

"Britain's election are still run under a First Past the Post system."

Still. As though the progression was inevitable, natural. Like that famous diagram of the ascent of man: the feudal system with its prehensile tail; the disproportionate caveman of FPP, dragging its knuckles; Communism, the extinct neanderthal, an evolutionary dead end; and finally Mixed Member Proportional - modern man depicted in all his romantic glory.

Don't get me wrong. I agree. A proportional system, much like Bornvita, is better better better by far.

But it's ironic, laughable even, that this sort of smug tone can exist at the same time as we here are debating a return to those old ways. When according to the polls and my own experience wandering the street with a microphone, a good number of us, maybe even a majority, favour dumping MMP (and the majority of them choosing to devolve to FPP).

Certainly, there are differences between ours and the British example. Winston Peters delusions of granduer aside, we have never had a third party of any significance*, nothing like the Lib Dems, who were running neck and neck with Labour and the Tories before their vote collapsed on election day. But even with their poor showing, they should still have twice as many seats as they do, proportionally speaking. Losing an Act, or a Green Party or NZ pales in comparison.

[*There were Social Credit and Bob Jones' New Zealand Party, both cited as good examples of injustice under FPP, but neither ever achieved polling parity with the big two.]

I hope that come the referendum, people will remember the British example. And not remember it in the muddled way Peter Shirtcliffe seems to be interpreting it (seriously, who sets up a website to lobby against MMP, and calls it petershirtcliffe.co.nz?), but as an example of the Bad Old Days. When big parties with vested interests fought to keep Parliament from truly reflecting the wishes of the people, afraid it might interfere with their unbridled power.

I'm pretty politically agnostic these days. I have my leanings, but my vote is far from decided in advance. I don't believe one party is by definition better than another, although I do think some are definitely worse. But one thing I do believe passionately, is that if we're going to live in a democracy (my preference is actually to be ruled by a bunch of benevolent elders wearing white Grecian tunics, like in Minority Report or Superman or something), then our Parliament should be as representative of that democracy as possible. You won't see me at a Labour rally, or handing out pamphlets with a big blue tick, but I'm thinking it might be time for me to raise a placard for the first time in my life, to walk down the street for a cause I believe in - MMP. I hope when the time comes, you might join me.

Of all the reported recommendations in the Law Commission's report 'Alcohol in Our Lives', the one that has passed with least comment to date is the idea that licensed premises should have to close by 4am at the latest.

I'm sure for most people this seems perfectly reasonable. But there will be a group out there, a substantial group, for whom this will be the End of Life as They Know It.

I've spent more time in bars after 4am than most people. I've been a duty manager at two bars (nightclubs, some might call them) where we'd call last drinks about 8am. For a good few years back in the early 00s, working or not, there weren't too many Saturday or Sunday mornings where I wasn't emerging from a bar somewhere in the blazing sunshine, strolling homewards (or to the next party) amidst the joggers and early morning shoppers.

At the height of all this silliness, we sometimes wouldn't even go out until 4am. Our favourite bar didn't really get cranking until 6.

I can confirm this, at least from the perspective of a rational, sober society: Nothing good happens in a bar after 4am.

But... at the same time, nothing really bad happens either. The binge drinkers have long since binged and bust. The guy who was going to get violent ended up passing out in the corner about 2am, got woken up and went home. The alcoho-pop fuelled young woman about whom one exclaims "she must be cold" has long since had an emotional meltdown in the bathrooms, thrown up on herself and been put in a cab. 4am is where the wheat really is separated from the chaff.

So who's left? Other hospo workers whose bars have closed earlier and have headed out for an after-work drink - and hospo workers certainly can drink - surely not an unreasonable expectation; DJs and those who enjoy dancing to them; and let's be honest, people whose stamina has been artificially prolonged because they're on drugs.

Now maybe it was because it was 7am and my brain was dripping out my ear, but in all those years of being in bars after 4am (and the last time was only a couple weeks ago, so let's not assume it's all changed), I can't remember a single fight, a single punch thrown, in those long, long mornings. Around 11pm? Midnight? 1am? Heaps. When it comes to human nature, it really isn't darkest before the dawn.

But I can't say there's a really, really compelling social or moral argument why bars should stay open after 4am. Does it, as some suggest, make us more of an international city? Perhaps, but bars in NYC or London are - for the most part - shut up by that time. Will DJs and those who dance to them simply start going out earlier? Probably. Will hospo workers still be able to find a drink behind a locked door somewhere? Of course.

As for the other changes, well. When the drinking age was lowered from 20 to 18, what happened was more young people had problems with alcohol. There was more drink driving by people under 20, more hospital admissions for people under 20, more fights, more arrests, more unplanned pregnancies and STDs. In other words, people under 20, when given the right to drink, behaved exactly the same way the rest of us did around alcohol. Any politician who voted for the law change, and now expresses surprise at what happened, is a fucking idiot.

The question is whether the problems are disproportionate. The same argument applies to raising the driving age. It turns out that each year you lift it reduces the total number of accidents. Each year you lift it also impinges on the rights of that cohort to be able to drive, or in this case, to have a beer.

18 is a good age to start drinking legally. It's the same age people leave school, start university or get a job. It's the age can get married (without parental consent) and most importantly I think, can vote. When I was at University the drinking age was 20, and I was in my third year before I could legally walk into a bar. Not that it stopped me, but it does seem a bit silly in retrospect.

If we're going to crack down on alcohol - and I dare say we should, if we're looking at the harm it causes society - then let's crack down on it across the board. Let's not condescend and say 18 year olds are in a different class from 20 year olds. Increase the price to better reflect the cost to the public health system, and drain on law and order resources? Sure. Increase the restrictions on advertising to be more in line with that other scourge, tobacco? Why not. Lower the blood/alcohol limits for every adult driver? Makes sense - I'd rather know I can't have a drink and drive, full stop, than the current gamble where I can maybe have three but not four, unless one is a 4%er and I've had dinner, unless it's only been an hour and a half rather than two hours...

Of course there's a part of me -the former libertarian sitting on my right shoulder, not to mention the imp who loves to drink, and drink heavily - that rails against any restrictions on my ability to imbibe, whenever, wherever and however I choose. But that's not the society we're living in. We're living in a society where we, as a whole, pick up the tab for these problems. We're living in a society where we drive on the same roads as the people driving home pissed, sit at A&E with our sick children, having to wait for hours because the ward is full of wasted youth. A society where we have to pick our way carefully on the footpaths of an evening in order to avoid the myriad technicolour yawns.

I think New Zealand could do with an intervention.

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Nor can it go without comment that the Government is giving due consideration to this report from the Law Commission, but the one with some sensible suggestions on dealing with 'the drug problem' was cast in the bin without a second thought.

On a related note, the crackdown on the Switched On Gardener chains. Interesting timing, the latest Metro magazine (the Best Restaurant edition), released the same day as all these busts, features an interview I did with three recently retired drug dealers. Amongst the interviews, a cannabis cultivator, whose also says he got everything he needed - including the seedlings - from his local hydroponics store. It's one of the more eye-opening pieces I've had the privilege to write, so it's another reason to pick up this month's edition.

Writing a review (of sorts) some four weeks' after a film is released might seem a little redundant. It might seem even more redundant when the film in question has already become the most successful New Zealand comedy film of all time – although when you look at the competition, that might not be the greatest compliment, or highest achievement. That title also belies the fact that Taika Waititi's latest long-player, Boy, is so much more than a comedy film.

The fact it took me almost four weeks to get to see the film shouldn't be taken as a sign I didn't care. First, it premiered on my birthday (March 25th, take note), so I spent much of the rest week drinking, eating and generally being "carried on the arms of cheerleaders" (my favourite line from a song by The National). Then there was a vague nervousness. I'd read a review somewhere, Metro perhaps, and spoken to someone at work, both of which/whom said the film "had its moments" but were let down for various reasons. Knowing Taika a little bit, and liking him a lot, and championing him since I first discovered 2 Cars, 1 Night, I wanted Boy to be brilliant.

So after stuffing ourselves at yum cha the way only two hungry people who want to try everything can, we tootled along to St Lukes cinema. It was an indifferent Saturday afternoon - the sort of afternoon I've found are perfect for a quiet spot of film watching. Boy was, it seemed, the only film there not showing in 3D.

Within a few minutes, the fears I had were put to rest. The film is beautifully shot, beautifully realised, funny and moving in just the right proportions. The two main juvenile leads, Boy and his brother Rocky, are both naturals. For me Rocky, the younger brother, steals the show, with his understated delivery, the uncertain relationship with his itinerant father and of course, his superpowers.

Having spent a holiday out on the East Cape, I'm familiar with the landscape. It's an interesting part of the country, equal parts rugged, rural and stunning. Growing up in Waiouru I can't claim to know poverty as such, but I know what it's like to spend a day playing in scrub, or tussock, letting my imagination filling in the blanks, practising my superpowers. In my day it was The Greatest American Hero. He had a few problems flying too, and everytime I launched myself into the air I was convinced the split second before I face planted into gravel was ever-so-slightly longer than the time before. And I think most of us can recall hanging around a dairy or general store with our friends, scrounging together money for popsicles, or Defender.

For me then, the comedy is pitch perfect. In the 80s we all knew swear words, but somehow calling someone "dick fritter" had more impact than dropping the f-bomb. There's also a lot of fun to be had courtesy of the only leading character who never actually appears on screen, a Mr Michael Jackson. He's a Maori, by all accounts.

One reviewer said he thought some of the film's more emotional moments were ruined, or at least didn't reach their full potential because the director would cut to a gag. I didn't see such sharp contrasts, and I don't see such a divide between emotion and humour. For example, the last line (at least from memory it's the last) delivered by Rocky at the cemetery is hilarious, but reinforces the poignancy. But that's just me. Oh, and everyone else I've spoken to who laughed, cried and laughed some more.

While this is a review (of sorts) and not a review of reviews (of sorts), I should mention that likewise, I had no problem with Taika's performance as Boy's father, I think anyone who expected an intense Jake The Muss type is missing the point: this character is supposed to be a bit of a dick, a grown-up who has formed a gang with his two mates, a man who refuses to grow up and face his responsibilities. It's hardly a personality unknown to most of us.

I say this is a review (of sorts) but I don't know what else to say. It's brilliant, right down to the credits (which were an unexpected treat, I'll say no more). It's the right length and contains some brilliant performances, particularly from the two boys. It's shot beautifully and has great, natural, funny dialogue. It made me feel at various times a lot happier and a lot sadder than Where the Wild Things Are ever did, and that cost bloody heaps. See it.

(In other Boy-related news, if you haven’t already heard the radio interview Dominic Corry (aka bFM’s Fabian Fanboy) and I did with Taika Waiti just before the film’s premiere, check it out here, and also the kinda funny clip we did for nzherald.co.nz with 20 quick fire questions.)

If it isn't in the Sunday papers tomorrow, I'm sure it'll be announced soon enough anyway - bFM is replacing Breakfast show host Mikey Havoc with Back of the Y star and Thursday Drive co-host Matt Heath, as from the beginning of May.

Regular readers will recall I took a strong line on the topic when Mike returned to Breakfast back in 2006, it led to someone starting up a petition to retain the host - one Wallace Chapman - some 1200 people signing it and Mike quite understandably, what's the phrase I'm looking for here... hating my guts. Over the years (and yes, even four years later) there have been various insults thrown my way on-air as a result, which people seem to enjoy telling me about.

I think he thought I started the petition too, which I didn't, but whatever. Having 1200 people signing their names to a vote of no-confidence would be a blow to any of us, much less the deceptively fragile egos that we media types tend to have (myself included). I've been guilty of it before, and probably will be again, but even famous people have feelings, and I've seen first hand the effect of negative reviews/comments on those in the public eye. Genuine hurt from offhand comments made by people they have never met.

For that, I apologise to Mike. No-one should have to feel like that. Well, fascist dictators and child abusers and the like. But not a radio host.

At the same time, I still maintain the key points of that post from 2006. bFM should be about people getting their chance, giving it a good nudge and then moving aside. It shouldn't be a career choice. Some of the best, Graeme Hill, and my personal hero (and reason for getting into radio) Marcus Lush each only did about two years in the main slot.

As a wise man once said on this very topic:

"All things must pass. Part of bFM's mission is to find and train new talent and it's time for somebody else to grasp the opportunity. It's time to hand over the reins.

That wise man was a young Mikey Havoc, when he left Breakfast in 2002, after doing it for five years.

As Russell said of the Sunrise folks, you've gotta feel for anyone losing their job in the current climate. It sure doesn't feel like the recession's over. TVNZ is in the midst of more cutbacks too, so I don't see too many leaving Flower Street for a role at the Death Star.

(Incidentally, the last Sunrise show provided some unintentional humour from the lovely Sasha McNeil, who still has a job there, but said in the closing minutes of the show, "Yeah... it's guttering".)

I'm told Mikey's been offered Drive - again it's a case of history repeating and while I can understand bFM's fear of losing a genuinely talented broadcaster, it's getting a bit co-dependent. Cut the strings. I think everyone involved would be much better off in the long run. Or even sooner.

I also have concerns over removing 5 shows, and five (or more) hosts to replace them with one host five days a week. I love listening to Charlotte Ryan from 10-12am, don't get me wrong, but with Breakfast, 10-12 and Drive each having just one host on weekdays, it further reduces the opportunity for developing talent and eventually finding the right person to take over Breakfast from Matt Heath.

I'm sure Matt will do a good job. I like him, both personally and as a broadcaster. Those of us who work regular hours will appreciate having a host who's there when we wake up. I know Matt will polarise people, because that's what he's spent the last dozen or so years perfecting. Not unlike Malcolm McLaren, RIP. But I also think he'll soften somewhat (in a good way) and become a great host. And I hope he's not there in five years' time.

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In other good radio news, I'm stoked to announce that Public Address Radio - the show I host with Russell (and guest appearances from the likes of Simon Pound) on Radio Live Sunday evenings, is a finalist in the NZ Radio Awards. We're up against Mike Hosking's Breakfast show on ZB, and Mike King's 'Nutter's Club' also on Live.

I don't fancy our chances - if only because such awards tend to reflect the underlying purpose as a marketing tool (for use on billboards, radio promos and the like), so I'd suspect it'll go to the big kid on the block, but it's nice to be in the running. Thanks to those of you who listen (you know it's available at publicaddress.net/radio eh?) and to the Downlow Boys, and the tireless and patient efforts of our technical engineer and producer Glynis (and more recently Thomas too). Awards announced April 29th.

(Title of this post is courtesy of Ralph Wiggum).