You may remember our story from last week, of the fairy princess Jacinderella. Today we continue the adventures of Jacinderella who is just about to leave for the Working Party Ball and dance on the glass ceiling in her glass slippers.
Jacinderella was about to climb into her magical limo to go to the Working Party when the driver, looking flustered and depressed, said he couldn’t go any further because he hadn’t paid his regional fuel tax bill.
“No worries,” said Jacinderella, because I have a Fairy Godmother who can wave a magic wand which is just like a PayWave except we don’t pay, the peasant taxpayers get the bill!”
So with the fuel tax bill picked up by the hard-working, tax-paying plebs, Jacinderella was off to the Working Party Ball.
But wait, I need some footmen!
No problem, said the Fairy Godmother. The fairy godmother waved her magic wand at Grantella Robertson and “poof!”
She waved it again at Tamatella Coffey and “poof!”
Chrisella Finlayson sashayed by, and “poof!”
“My word, there are a lot of poofs going on here,” exclaimed the Fairy Godmother.
Just at that moment, Israel Folau appeared on scene, shocked. “I’m out of here, before there are any more poofs.”
Grantella said he was more of a legman than a footman, but he’d fit in somewhere.
Tamatella said he’d happily be a footman but was feeling a cold front approaching so they’d better take a coat.
The cold front turned out to be Chrisella, who mumbled he would rather ride up the rear, so off went the carriage.
There was a sudden bump along the way.
Winstonella had fallen off the wagon again.
“Carry on,” cried Jacinderella. “We’ll leave the medical professionals to deal with it.
“Might as well get some value from all those nurses with pay rises.”
Arriving at the party, she was introduced to her husband, the prime minister of Canada.
He was not impressed with the venue.
He was told it was the Land of Plenty but said he’d rather be in Dunedin, which apparently has more culture than the Bay of Plenty and therefore a better place.
(to be continued…)
And speaking of culture and class, there have been many occasions during the past few weeks when we’ve felt particularly proud of Tauranga.
Particularly its lifestyle culture, which is unmatched anywhere in the country.
Class and culture
A stroll downtown along the waterfront on a beautiful chilly winter evening, the harbour glistening in the sunset and families enjoying the lights on the boardwalk and playing on the Hairy Maclary statues.
Oh, but apparently Tauranga lacks culture.
The TV series ‘Coast’ featured some of our fabulous yachting heroes and their achievements over the years and our magnificent shoreline. The cool Blokarts, land yachts re-invented in the Bay by the Becketts, taking the world by storm. Plus the incredible human effort to scrape up after the Rena catastrophe. Eight thousand volunteers made it the largest human volunteer environmental clean-up in the world at the time.
What an incredible pride, spirit and community culture. Oh, but apparently Tauranga is a cultural desert?
Strolling the city and soaking up the buzz and the visual delights of the massive murals.
Enjoying live music and street atmosphere in downtown The Mount. Pity, apparently no culture to speak of.
Looking back at The Sun’s coverage of the fantastic National Jazz Festival Tauranga.
The best jazz festival in the country and possibly the Southern Hemisphere.
So it has been, for decades.
But remember, Tauranga is apparently culturally bereft.
Chatting with a fellow muso about the quirky and unique outdoor pianos dotted around the city, much to the delight of locals and tourists.
But hey, we’re cultural morons, right?
Seeing families frolicking on the surf beaches, even in winter, massive sand art and sculptures on the low tide, picnicking with healthy fresh produce from our lush hinterland. Shame the place is culturally crippled, eh?
Some delusional critics have claimed Dunedin a better place because it supposedly is oozing culture. Well, here’s a recent story from the Otago Daily Times… is this an example of a city’s prowess of cultural excellence and family values?
‘Father injured son playing staple gun Russian roulette’
Michael George Herzog admitted a charge of injuring with reckless regard and was convicted in the Dunedin District Court, after shooting his son in the leg and arm with a staple gun. The conviction was Herzog’s first for violence but the judge highlighted an “appallingly bad” driving history. Classy, Dunners!
The government’s ambitious One Billion Trees goal suffered a significant blow this week when my dad cut one down.
Ostrich was on the menu at a local restaurant. The waitress asked me how I liked it. I said traditional, with its head in sand. I was immediately ostracised.
Regular reader Mike offers RR followers some worldly advice:
1. The nicest thing about the future is that it always starts tomorrow.
2. Money will buy a fine dog, but only kindness will make him wag his tail.
3. If you don't have a sense of humour you probably don't have any sense at all.
4. Seat belts are not as confining as wheelchairs.
5. A good time to keep your mouth shut is when you're in deep water.