When last we spoke – and I use the term ‘spoke’, rather loosely here, basically in the same sense that politicians use the word ‘transparency’ – I was holidaying in New Zealand, blissfully unaware of elections, political crises and the price of a carton of eggs (turns out I wasn’t alone on that one).
The holiday wasn’t all fine wine, good food, beautiful scenery and pleasant driving; for a start, sometimes I was asleep (not, I should point out, while driving). However, travel is not just gondolas, jet-boats, cruises and lunches costing more than a second-hand Tesla (anyone who has bought lunch in Queenstown knows what I mean).
It is also about the spiritual side; about nurturing your soul and experiencing different cultures, languages and beliefs. Thankfully, in New Zealand you can go to a place that has all that and is sacred to millions of people around the world, and reflective of an ancient and storied culture: Hobbiton.
Not, I stress, the real Hobbiton, but the movie set at which the Hobbit and Lord of the Rings films were made. This was my idea, and it is fair to say my wife was a bit nervous, because the last time we were in New Zealand, the first film had only just been released, and I was nerding out. I had obtained a book that revealed where key scenes had been filmed, and I wanted to see them all.
My wife got a little sick of me driving 18 miles down a one-way dirt road to run around what was – to her – a random bit of New Zealand that looked much like every other bit of New Zealand, all the while shouting, “Look! That’s the ford where Arwen faced the Nazgul! There’s Aragorn’s cliff! That’s the very rock where Frodo sat down and burped!”
We all ended up liking Hobbiton, however, because it really is very cool, actually looks like the movie and – this is key – has a pub. My wife is not much into alcohol – most glasses of wine I pour for her evaporate long before she finishes them – but she got through a whole glass of cider at The Green Dragon, which constitutes about three months’ alcohol intake for her. It would seem that me banging on about Tolkien’s work can drive anyone to drink (something to which you can no doubt relate at the moment).
Unfortunately, that was the end of the holiday, and we had to come back. As soon as we touched the ground, my phone lit up with texts. Was it loved ones welcoming me back? The Australian cricket team telling me that since they have tried everyone else, I can finally open the batting? The Pulitzer committee telling me my last column had been nominated?
No – it was various political parties assuring me that I could make no finer choice in my life than to vote for them, and also pointing out that their opponents were planning to sell orphans to aliens for medical experiments, and set fire to baby harp seals to produce electricity.
I will have to congratulate one particular party – let’s give them the pseudonym, ‘Bugle of Partisans’ – for out-spamming all the other parties combined by about six to one. It worked, too, assuming their goal was to annoy me to the extent that if they were running against Sauron, I would at least hear what he had to say.
Note to all political parties, everywhere in the world (and the alien ones doing the experiments): nobody ever voted for anyone due to a text message. All those text messages do is make the recipient of them hope that the sender develops chronic, incurable haemorrhoids. So unless you really, really enjoy standing up, stop it, OK?
The election campaign was not the only thing of which I was blissfully unaware while in New Zealand. You see, it turns out that much of New Zealand is located a long way from the rest of New Zealand.
Wi-fi is often spotty (my youngest child has a lot to say about this); newspapers are scarce and concentrate only on topics of great significance, such as rural rugby and some more rural rugby; and television can often by fairly primitive.
Indeed, one place we stayed had only three TV channels, which I would describe as being:
- a channel for really bad animated kids movies that could not attract real celebrities to do the voices and failed at the box office (Sammy the Slug, Space Captain, starring Eminem and Megan Markle);
- Gruesome true crime set to scary music;
- Life on an island somewhere very cold, probably Alaska, where nothing – literally nothing – interesting ever happens
This is actually great, partly because going to New Zealand to watch TV is like going to Paris to eat Maccas, but also because you don’t hear a lot of world news, by which I mean Donald Trump. Outside of New Zealand, it seems, the only thing people will report on is whatever Trump did that day (‘Trump threatens to Nuke Canada’, ‘Trump Plan to Turn Vatican into World’s Largest Sauna’, ‘Trump Develops in-grown toenail’ etc.).
In New Zealand, newspapers tend to devote column inches to real issues, like – this was a real feature article I read in a paper over there – the concern that Australian rugby was getting better (which gave me a good laugh).
Back home, though, he was back. I learned that he was threatening to blacklist any law firm – and the firm’s clients – that had ever represented anyone who had ever upset Trump, which includes, at last count, everybody who has ever lived and many people who are yet to be born. Also, firms that want government work need to abandon DEI, accept that the 2020 election was stolen, and believe that Hilary Clinton shot JFK.
Thankfully that couldn’t happen here. A government demanding that its citizens believe what the politicians believe would be like uni lecturers insisting their students believe what the lecturer believes, or else they would never get a job. Crazy stuff, right?
In any event, at least the election is over and you can turn your phones back on. Congratulations to Mr Magoo and his supporters (he truly has done it again) and commiserations to Voldemort and the eight people who voted for him. Hopefully now the government and opposition can move forward, and work together to address the big issues: cost of living, the environment and, most importantly, fixing the Wallabies’ lineout.
© Shane Budden 2025
Share this article