new zealand

Bob Dylan Excites New Zealanders By Not Being Seen On Holidays In New Zealand

3:10PM Jess McGuire | God bless New Zealand. As some of you may be aware, I’ve got quite the affection for the land of the long white cloud. Lovely people, stunning scenery, cold weather… heaven! Well, for me anyway. And while I try to figure out how on earth and when I’m going to get over there again (and can one walk across New Zealand once they get there, do you think?), I try to sate my Kiwi desires by perusing their publications online and revelling in their local news. And the following article from a local paper about Bob Dylan not being spotted by anyone in New Zealand pretty much made my day, and had me wishing that the country itself were actually a small cherubic child whose cheeks I could squeeze and whose hair I could ruffle. The Marlborough Sounds are beautiful, and wouldn’t it be great to share them with celebrities trying to holiday in privacy? Well, that may be the case. Rumours suggest that both Bob Dylan and Shania Twain have separately been spending time in the Sounds. What follows is an epic tale of absolutely no one having any evidence whatsoever that Bob Dylan is holidaying at The Marlborough Sounds. More »

Has Robbie Coltrane Broken Into Your Chilly Bin, Bro?

10:10AM Clem Bastow | Defamer Australia’s fearless leader recently returned from New Zealand, and I was certain she was about to begin citizenship paperwork, such was her love for the land of the long white cloud. Well, hopefully this will give her a little pause for reminiscence – Christchurch police have put Robbie Coltrane on a wanted poster, since – like dentists – they can’t show you the real face of the young criminal they are out to catch: Highlights from the text are as follows: ‘Because of the Children and Young Persons Act 1989 Police cannot show you a picture of the 16-year-old burglar operating in your neighbourhood,’ it states. ‘Robbie Coltrane is not the burglar but imagine him aged 16 with lank greasy hair and you have the picture.’ Bonus points to the local residents, who have reacted to the poster with the appropriate level of, er, vigilance: One woman said: ‘I am wondering what Robbie Coltrane would look like as a 16-year-old. I’m also wondering how he would get through the window of my house.’ Top work, PC Plods of Christchurch! More »

Letter From The Editor

9:23AM Jess McGuire | To your left is a never-before-seen (even by Facefuck friends!) photo of your Editor giggling idiotically while soaking up the windy, freezing view from Paekakariki Hill. Dear readers, I was not going to talk much about my time in Noo Zulland (spucuffically, Wullingten) now that I am back in Australia, but I did want to tell you about my time at the national museum watching the most messed up, insane, oddly violent, and incredibly hilarious indoctrination video about all things Kiwi – but I couldn’t find the words. Thankfully, former housemate Born Dancin’ (mentioned here) has done it for me. The morning after arrival I catch up with my old housemate Jess, whose dad lives in W-town. We meet out the front of Te Papa Tongarewa, the fancy new Wellington museum. Normally I avoid museums on whirlwind trips because they’re full of things that actual locals don’t have any connection with, often from countries other than the one you happen to be visiting. But I’d heard that this one had an earthquake simulator so I had to pop in. The earthquake simulator was rubbish – a tiny weatherboard room done up like a crappy house that shook disinterestedly for about five seconds. I can accurately conjure up the experience for any Melburnian through the following two words: a tram. And not even one going around a corner, just a tram going at a reasonable pace on a flat stretch. On the way in, though, we noticed a sign referring to a section called “Golden Days”, which was described as “The Junk Shop that Comes Alive!” Being both a fan of junk shops and life, I was intrigued. I don’t recall the exact wording of the sign outside the exhibit itself, but it was something along the lines of CONTAINS NEW ZEALAND HUMOUR WHICH MAY NOT TRANSLATE. GRAPHIC SCENES NOT SUITABLE FOR THOSE UNDER 15. Well bang my gavel and consider me sold. The Golden Days ‘experience’ goes for about 17 minutes. But as Jess said about five minutes in, it felt like someone was about to rush in and prop our eyes open with matchsticks and force us to endure this unspeakably horrific act of mind-fucking until our heads exploded (I am paraphrasing). Here’s a quick rundown of my interior commentary. 1 minute: Oh how quaint we are walking through ye olde shoppe of Kiwi antiques and bric-a-brac from the Golden Days which give this thing its name. Luverly. And now we enter a room with some comfy couches and lots more old crap. 2 minutes: Now that I am seated in one such comfy chair I notice that the video projection behind the crap is probably the focal point of this show. Judging by its image of a street scene, it appears we are supposed to be sitting inside an old antique shop which is being closed up by an old man as an old grandfather clock strikes five. Got it. Although that is an early closing time. 3 minutes: My goodness, after gramps has tottered off the opp shop comes alive! By which I mean the grandfather clock starts speeding up and a few antique items are jiggling about in a really unexciting manner (could be an earthquake, then). Ah, an album of faded photos has flicked open and obviously we are going back in time or somesuch nonsense. 5 minutes: What are these projected video images supposed to mean? This couple are lugging a baby around town and occasionally we see random sequences of historical footage. There’s no connection between the original scenes and the found material. 6 minutes: Sweet Jesus this is becoming a Dadaist nightmare. There are ships going to battle. And then there are Olympians. And then there are earthquakes. CONTEXT PLEASE? 7 minutes: The baby is being walked by a young mother and another man appears with a video camera and the baby is violently pushed into the camera’s lens. 8 minutes: And now there is a cow being gutted and its innards spill out. 9 minutes: Scenes of war and cheese-making. 10 minutes: And now there is a man stepping over a fence and being electrocuted in the gonads. 11 minutes: And the baby is back unharmed but the couple are holding it out over the edge of a ten-storey building. And a couple are getting married in a TV soap. 12 minutes: A bunch of 1700s English colonialists are demanding entry to New Zealand and a Maori leader is denying them their visa and then holding up an anti-nuclear sticker and there is canned laughter. 13 minutes: THERE ARE MACHINEGUNS HIDDEN IN THE CABINET WHICH ARE FIRING DIRECTLY AT US. 14 minutes: THE MACHINEGUNS ARE BACK AND NOW THEY ARE KILLING A MANNEQUIN AND 15 minutes: DEAR NEW ZEALAND I’M SORRY IF I SAID ANYTHING UNTOWARD AND I PROMISE I’LL DO WHATEVER YOU SAY FROM NOW ON JUST PLEASE, PLEASE MAKE IT END OR AT LEAST GIVE ME A VOICEOVER OR SOME HINTS AS TO WHAT THE HICK IS GOING ON 16 minutes: HOW WILL I GET HOME RACHEL? HOW WILL I GET HOOOOOME? 17 minutes: Oh, it’s over. Well, that was unusual. You can read the rest of our adventures here (including our time being embraced by Wellington’s gay community, god love them to bits). Just for history’s sake, let me say that Senor Born Dancin’ is one of the greatest housemates you could ever hope to live with, and getting to frolic around New Zealand with him reminded me of how much I miss living with the man since Life (TM) and Rental Situations (TM) tore us apart. I am totally won over by Wellington, by the by. What an amazing place. New Zealand? I salute you. x More »