You shag one goat...

Anonymous.

As a group it is the name of a crowd of computer hackers with a social conscience that also carry the neologism ‘hacktivists’. They’ve hit the headlines in New Zealand recently having hacked into several National Party websites in protest at the controversial GCSB Bill, but that isn’t what this post is about. It isn’t the action of this group that is my focus, rather the anonymity that the internet has afforded them. As a tool, the internet has massive potential for the sharing of ideas and information. It has given many an avenue of self-expression hitherto unknown in human history and like many new tools, it is prone to abuse by… well, tools.

The internet doesn’t ask many questions about identity. When creating an internet persona, it won’t ask you for proof of ID such as a passport, drivers licence or copy of a bill with your address on it such as you’d have to provide to satisfy the bank that you’re not really Fred West when you apply for a loan. Anyone with access to a computer can create a facebook account or email address with any name on it they like. For a start this has enabled people to realise the potential silliness of creating pages for their animals: I recently discovered a Lady-Penelope von Knockwurst, which is a miniature dachshund and I once created one for a small chicken I found in my driveway named Rubina. For all the capacity of the creation of levity, there is also a sinister side to internet anonymity, specifically anonymous trolling. For the uninitiated, trolling is the activity of deliberately riling someone on the internet for the troll’s own entertainment, which they can do behind pseudonyms or even without naming details. The notion of electronic bullying seems like a harmless enough idea – after all, sticks and stones, it isn’t face to face and no-one is physically hurt by it. Well, it isn’t that simple. True, at it's most harmless trolls can mock quite deserving targets, such as The Pakeha Party, but at its worst trolling can be reckless and dangerous and have the most serious of consequences.

This is Amanda Todd who committed suicide because of
constant bullying arising from the actions of a troll who
published photos of her flashing her breasts at a camera.
She was 15. There are myriad of other high profile
examples and thousands that will go unreported.

Why can’t the victims just turn off their computers and it will just go away? There are a number of compelling reasons why it is just as serious as face to face bullying. Let’s take for an example a teenager today. At no time in their life has there not been an internet. They have been encouraged to get online and do things including the creation of their on-line persona in the form of their pages on social media sites. It is as much a part of them as the way they are perceived face to face. Their emotions are vested in the impression their facebook and twitter accounts creates. When someone mounts an attack on their facebook profile, be under no illusion that it is a personal attack. Another compelling argument is that once something is on the internet, it is next to impossible for it to be removed. There have been documented cases where teenagers have been victims of personal information or compromising images of themselves being published online for anyone in the world to access. Copying this information and these images is as easy as ‘right-click and save image as’. I just wrote that removing information from the internet is next to impossible, I think I actually mean it is impossible and bullies and the targets of this bullying know this. And then there’s the point that teenagers will not turn off the computer and walk away. The internet is such a necessary tool these days that information put on the internet will follow them forever such as when they apply for jobs and their prospective employer Googles them or when their family go to look them up. It cannot be underestimated the potential harm involved in cyber-bullying. Some cases have resulted in self-harm and even suicide by the victim. It is that serious.

Artists impression of poor old Spiros.

Who are the bullies? That’s a bloody good question. You see, with the freedom of anonymity comes a lack of accountability for a person’s actions. The troll can insult, defame and gloat with impunity and there is virtually no way for the victim to find out the true identity of their tormentor. The only tag a troll leaves is their IP address, a series of numbers that identifies only the computer it comes from. Under the rules of evidence, knowing the IP address wouldn't be enough to secure a conviction as it would have to be proven who was using the computer at the time. Let’s also have a quick look at what recourse a victim has: Let’s say for example that a troll creates a Facebook page suggesting the victim, who we’ll call Spiros, once shagged a goat. The page 'Spiros is a Goat-Shagger' goes up on Facebook and Spiros finds out about it. Spiros can request the originator of the page to take it down, but what would be the odds? Spiros can complain to Facebook, but if the page does not fall outside Facebook’s terms of use, then they are not obliged to remove it. What can Spiros do next?  From there the only thing Spiros can do is lodge a defamation action through the courts which could take as long as two years to be heard and cost Spiros tens of thousands in legal fees. In all this time, poor old Spiros is being maligned as a goat shagger and there is nothing he can do until the government passes draft legislation recommended by the Law Commission.

Incidentally, I searched to see whether spirosthegoatshagger.com existed and so far it doesn’t (yet).

... and we fuck goats.

So anonymity is a wide-ranging cloak that is being used for all sorts of nefarious activities on the internet. My assertion is that anonymity is the cloak of a coward. If a person has a view, they should have the stones to front up and voice their opinion. I think it carries a greater measure of credibility for someone to use their name and be accountable for their actions. Pouring a metaphorical bucket of shit over someone on the internet while hiding behind the name anonymous is… well, you’d be a bit of a goat-shagger wouldn’t you?

Love letter to Wellington 2

We know a thing or two about earthquakes in Christchurch, in fact I would think that we've hosted some of the best earthquakes in New Zealand. I jest of course in my flippancy because in reality they are insidious fuckers that creep up on you without warning. When an earthquake hits you never know whether it is the beginning of something bigger or if it is a mere wobble that serves only to make the day more interesting. When it is something bigger the moment is bad enough. I'll just elaborate for the uninitiated when I say that everything moves: everything rocks, jumps, jolts and rolls. It is the most colossal and unholy noise. In an instant you don't know if you're going to be collected and battered by something falling on you, something that may kill you and the worst thing is that you are completely helpless and at the total mercy of a force that is arbitrary and knows no reason.

Victoria University Law Library

And then you've made it out the other side of the earthquake. There is an eerie calm but for the cacophony of alarms and sirens going off. And then you wonder how your family have got on. What's happened to your friends? Lesser concerns crop up: Is your home alright? What about your stuff? And then when the electricity is off and your water suddenly won't run and you can't get through on any phone to anyone, you realise how alone in the world you are and worst of all, how vulnerable you are. Because you didn't expect to have your basic supplies cut off, you haven't got an emergency supply of water, tinned food, gas for the barbecue, petrol for the car...
Every subsequent shake, wobble and jolt makes you immediately suspect whether this is the one that will kill you and destroy everything you love.

Be under no illusions, earthquakes are frightening no matter how big and tough you think you are.
Christchurch proved this with a 6.3 magnitude quake and 185 people died. This is also why I feel absolutely no sense of spite or malice toward those who experienced the 6.5 magnitude earthquake in Wellington and Marlborough. You've just been frightened out of your wits with one of the most sudden and nastiest shocks a human can experience and I offer nothing but solidarity. It might be a school-night but I cannot recommend having a few nerve-settling glasses of wine or beers enough. Sleep will be hard enough to come by tonight.
Go well.

Why should I vote for you? Hmm? Well I won't then.

About twenty five years ago a movie came out named Brewster's Millions that was based on a 1902 novel by George Barr McCutcheon. The hero, played by Richard Pryor, has to spend $30m in 30 days in order to inherit a $300m fortune. This condition is imposed by the miserly testator in a similar vein to a parent forcing a child who is caught smoking to smoke a whole pack as a means of deterrent for future smoking. Part of the plot is that the title character spends most of the money by entering the New York mayoral election under the ticket Vote None of the Above. It is a colossal waste of money and on his way to frittering away the money he succeeds in convincing the electorate that the standing candidates aren't worthy of their votes. This has made me start thinking recently...

Taito Phillip Field: expelled from the Labour Party and
jailed for corruption. Voted in by the good people of
Mangere. Would you buy a used car off this man?

In the wake of the Aaron Gilmore, Brendan Horan and David Garrett fiascos, media commentators have responded by pointing out that there is a paucity of ideal candidates on the lower ends of the party lists. Cynics would also mention that there seems to be a paucity of suitable candidates at the upper reaches of the lists as well. I move on by saying that we have an incumbent government that has passed, and is considering passing legislation that even its own voters aren't quite sure that they like. How can the current government ride roughshod over the opinions of detractors of the GCSB Bill when they include safeguarding interest groups such as the Law Society? The opposition is not strong enough to defeat the bill and there are significant questions surrounding the efficacy of the opposition in everyday parliament at all. We are being shown that accountable government needs strong opposition to keep it honest, but the harsh glare of the opposition spotlight seems to be falling on the leadership of the Green Party which is the third largest party in parliament, rather than on the leadership of Labour, the second largest. The question has to be asked, are Labour voters getting what they wanted from their leadership? Are National voters happy with the current crop of policies? How about the good voters of the Maori Party? Are they happy that their team has had their own internal squabbles and performed so poorly in the recent Ikaroa-Rawhiti by-election? Are ACT voters happy that their leader actually wants to be a National MP again? Are Green voters... actually, I would imagine Green voters would be fairly happy with the way things are going for their party but I won't pose a question for every party, mainly because I cannot cover every single category of woe that betides, every renegade MP, every gaffe and each faceplam.

Frequently, the only option for voters who are not happy with their usual preferred party is to vote for someone else or cast a protest vote for some lunatic who is standing for a seat dressed as a carrot. 
My question is why vote at all?

A recent graphic from the New Yorker depicting impressions
from Republican voters on their party. It could easily apply
to many political parties here in New Zealand.

The conventional position of voting for someone else aligns the voter with a fresh set of policies that they may not agree with and so this option could be considered to be less than ideal. By willingly not casting a vote because the usual preferred candidate or party isn't good enough or because their policies aren't ideal an elector is making a statement: I thought about voting for you, but you're no better than everyone else. So what affect will this have? Okay, so X candidate loses one vote, but doesn't lose that vote to Y candidate. Their opponent won't gain that vote and so still may not get in, but their majority is reduced, sending a message that they need to lift their game. If there is one thing an MP pays attention to it is what their electorate majority is. This also applies to the party vote. A non-vote actually reduces a party's percentage of the electoral vote directly affecting its allocated proportion in parliament. The party vote is all about numbers and parties need votes, voter apathy is something the parties abhor. But this isn't voter apathy. This is active voter dissatisfaction. 

Brendan Horan: You may have voted
for NZ First and now it doesn't want
him. He's still in parliament.
Is your confidence in NZ First eroded?

There are a couple of adages that bandied around at election time: if you don't vote, don't complain; and don't vote, it only encourages the bastards. The first quotation can be successfully argued against - I didn't vote because I am complaining. I felt in my opinion that my position wasn't adequately represented and voting for someone else is sheer electoral recklessness. When I feel my vote is deserved by someone, I'll use it. The don't vote and don't complain adage only applies to those who are apathetic and foolishly waste their right to vote. Voting None of the Above is willful and considered and therefore not apathetic. Let's look at the second adage: don't vote, it only encourages the bastards. Well yes, it does but the active non-vote is a statement to encourage the bastards to be better MPs. MPs want your vote, they need your vote and in order to get that vote they have to be good performers, capable, intelligent, diplomatic and productive. Voters for ACT, NZ First and National should be unhappy that their party vote allowed David Garrett, Brendan Horan, Bob Clarkson, Richard Prosser and Aaron Gilmore into parliament. It's a veritable rogues gallery of stupid, useless bastards. The party voters have been badly let down by these clowns, so why not send a statement and say, I refuse to vote for you unless you provide list candidates who deserve voting for, not some shitkicker who falsely applies for a passport in the name of a dead baby; someone who is accused of hoovering dry his elderly mother's bank account; someone who repeatedly made coarse, sexist and racist jibes in parliament and in public; someone who... you get my point. Electors may also feel that other figures in politics have let them down such as the party leaders for varying reasons. 

Personally, I feel there are only a handful of MPs that are actually deserving of my vote across the whole political spectrum. As for a party vote, I am a bit bewildered as to who really deserves it and so I am uncommitted at present although I may be swayed. Vote None of the Above provides a third way beyond vote for X or vote for X's opponent Y. As a proponent of this movement I have to say it exists a little half-halfheartedly because it doesn't seek to completely discourage people from voting. What it does seek to do is to encourage people to use their votes a little more critically than just blindly following a party or candidate. People should step back and actually ask "Why should I vote for you, you useless bastard?". We want MPs who aren't going to embarrass themselves, their party and our parliament. We want MPs who will work hard, do what they say they are going to do and show some integrity. I would like to see more MPs step back from the party line and say "I'm a member of this party, but I don't actually agree with this. I won't vote for it."*

The thing about this movement is that it does not fall under any particular part of the left-right spectrum. From Mana through to ACT, we need to cast scrutiny over our representatives and not be so hasty to put them in a position of power. We only get one chance every three years to change things and we need to take our votes a little more seriously. I think we need to adapt our adages: don't vote and complain and don't vote to encourage the bastards. As a political force, Vote None of the Above will be a success if it takes a chunk out of voter turnout and can actively engage politicians to say why. Obviously because of the cross-spectrum nature of this movement, that interaction needs to take place on a individual basis, so what should you, the voter, do?
Email, write, ring or collar the candidates in person. Ask them, why should I vote for you? If you don't get a satisfactory answer, tell them why. If you get no answer at all, they weren't prepared to work for your vote anyway. This is an interesting form of electoral engagement that puts the onus of performance back on MPs and make them work a little bit harder to satisfy the public.
It is also going to be fun to watch.

*Votes in parliament are an interesting affair. Most votes on bills follow party lines but there is the occasional conscience vote. I would prefer to see all votes be conscience votes because it means that the MP actually has a position and stands for something rather than following the position of the Prime Minister. 
I am not likely to see this changed in my lifetime.

A fap in a teacup. Think I mean a flap? No, I mean fap...

There's nothing more fascinating than watching a train-wreck in action and I say this with due apologies to the people of Lac Megantic who suffered such a literal thing in the last week. I mean the metaphorical train-wreck that is the establishment of the Facebook group The Pakeha Party, who have pledged to get 500 paying members and become an actual functioning political party. Most reports have cited that the page already has X number of likes, but by the time the report is published that figure is obsolete due to the astronomical response to people who either approve of its foundation or who like the page merely to get continuous updates on this fiasco.

Pakeha Party co-founder David Ruck.
Nice eyebrow piercing Dave.

The founders of the page did so with a simple ethos: any additional benefits the Maori ask for exclusively for Maori - we ask the for the same things for Pakeha. This is rather simplistic and as their popularity grew and the party gained media attention it was highlighted as being a rather unrealistic basis to form a party. One of the founders, Ashley Sargeant, was interviewed on Radio Live by Duncan Garner who asked if they were opposed to the Treaty of Waitangi and treaty settlements. Our interviewee responded by saying he wasn't opposed in principle. Garner pounced, because any additional benefits Maori gain are based upon redress and the the principles of the Treaty, the Pakeha Party doesn't really stand for anything. A considerable amount of the benefits the Pakeha Party allude to directly arise out of the Treaty settlement process. Ngai Tahu are an example of a tribe that was settled perhaps 5-10% of what their claim would otherwise be worth (as a tribe, their iwi held around 90% of the land mass of the South Island). With that settlement the tribe invested in commercial property and a number of other commercial ventures. With careful management, this portfolio has achieved enviable success with profits used to extend the tribe's holdings as well as being used for social benefits for tribe members across a broad range of areas including scholarships for higher education. Ngai Tahu are an example of good management of their assets being used for the benefit of their people. There are of course shining examples of bad management of settlements meaning that certain tribes receive less individual benefit and are more reliant on social services that are available to all. A number of the causes of social issues arising among Maori are unique to Maori and it would be remiss of the government not tailor its efforts to deal with them based upon ethnicity. Even if it were likely that the Pakeha Party group could gain the same benefits as Maori, they certainly wouldn't want to inherit all the social ills that Maori face including lower life expectancy, higher infant mortality, unemployment, drug and alcohol addiction, domestic violence and incarceration rates.
Duncan Garner therefore could legitimately question whether the Pakeha Party stood for anything at all.

And then there is the Pakeha Party's catch-cry that it is not a racist party (no doubt pronounced ray-shist, by  the page's adherents). It does not stand for ethnic divisiveness, rather wants to highlight inequality in the treatment of between Maori and Pakeha in New Zealand. Well, the group is struggling with the paradoxical nature of that statement because by highlighting the division and poorly enunciating its rather clouded intentions, it has immediately attracted consideration that it is a group motivated by bigotry rather than any more laudable intention. It is a page of largely incoherent ranting and poorly informed and poorly spelled boorish diatribes. It claims not to be divisive, but there is as much traffic on the page decrying the concept of the Pakeha Party by a torrent of Maori and non-Maori. 
But there is a Mana Party and a Maori Party, the page's authors argue. Why should there not be Pakeha Party? In the case of the Mana Party, it is not exclusively a party for Maori. It just so happens that it didn't capture the imagination of non-Maori, probably because Hone Harawira can't do up his fucking tie properly. As for the foundation of the Maori Party, the answer is a bit more complex. The party exists to act as a representative of a very different social society within a Westminster government. Maori society has key differences in an array of areas, for example land ownership - the European model holds that the underlying title of all land is held by the Crown but can be purchased and sold. Maori never really own land, they are stewards for it. A principle called kaitiakitanga unless I'm much mistaken. The Maori Party was founded to be a conduit between the two systems as well as providing representation, although that representation has been severely eroded due to the machinations of party politics. Why should there be a Pakeha Party when the system of government is based upon a European model, conducted in English and with considerable ethnic representation of European New Zealanders across most parties? It is comically naive to suggest that Pakeha is under-represented in parliament.

The Pakeha Party page thinks 'this guy is Epic! lol'

So if the Pakeha Party is on course to become a political party I think it nicely underlines my opinion in this post. Stupid people should be denied the vote because they just can't use it properly. If the number of likes this page has as of this morning were converted into votes, it would gain around 2.5% of the electoral vote. The threshold for gaining seats in parliament is currently 5% and there is every chance that the Pakeha Party could eventually capitalise on the stupidity of it's members and get into parliament, having a say in how our country is run. Were the Pakeha Party to follow through on its threat to incorporate, this could be quite a worrying thing especially in an election where a minor party holds the balance of power. Will it get that far? As I mentioned earlier, fifty thousand Facebook likes comprise people who genuinely believe that their interests will be best represented by the Pakeha Party but may also consist of people who are content watching this lunacy unfold. I haven't liked the page, but I'm in this camp.

There now follows a selection of quotations and comments from the Pakeha Party Facebook page. Then we'll hold a moment of silence for the death of written English:

Bill Ruffwater

have to say thank you,the war that has been brewing is now closer,cant wait to go to battle with my maori brothers

And this isn't divisive?

Matt Bowden

hell yeah love this page!!! for all out there calling this "racist" , pull finger. WE ARE pakeha and we shall REPRESENT ourselves as pakeha no questions asked, why should we not? while the politics of our countries past are very important in knowing WHERE we came from we dont have to take on our ancestors wars. You or I or any other kiwi living today didnt fight in 1845-1872 did ya? just as we didnt ask to be born here (even though i woulda picked here anyways if i could) we still share this country and live together. if this is racist then having a "maori" party is too. dont hate us just koz we white :)

I don't hate you because you are white. I hate you because of your tiny mind and your appalling spelling and grammar.

Emma Burns

How about a name like One People or One Nation?

Anyone remember the Australian One Nation party led by Pauline Hansen?

Pene Rakau

‎#TE Wā Patai!!! ZZZZZZZ Wh@'z The Connectionzzz Between "Simon POWER" "ASSET SALEZ" "TANGATA WENUA" @ "WEZTPAC???" # ^^200 MILLION DOLLAR CARZ???? ZZZZZ####

No, I have no idea what this one says either, but I'm fairly certain they don't support the Pakeha Party.

Natasha Blackbourn

I'm all for this, but could we change the name to The White Party or something like that??!! I hate the word Pakeha, it's like they own us.

There's a grand idea. Call it the White Party instead. I'll go and get the Klan hoods.

Jack Lean

yes a very good party, oh it is very ,udy cold, Here to the Pakeha Party

What? Oh never mind.

For the love of not so dodgy boozers by a dodgy boozer

Earlier this week I found myself writing in appreciation for the pubs of my past which the uncharitable could describe as less than salubrious. Actually, anyone who would call them that would deserve a slap because it suggests a level of pretentiousness better suited to a hospitality edifice of wank that would usually do a roaring trade in Veuve and Export 33. This post celebrates a pub that I have a great affection for that now sits forlornly in a terrible state of disrepair, the last building standing in Poplar Lane.

It was at a set of afternoon drinks on a warm summer evening in late 2005 that I first heard of the Twisted Hop. We were discussing the gassiness of New Zealand tap beer when my learned friend Phil, who is a retired semprini dealer in Christchurch, announced "I have discovered the Twisted Hop." We resolved at once to meet there so he could show me the beer. True to his word, we met at the Hop a couple of days later. Poplar Lane was not the thriving hub that it later became at that stage. The Twisted Hop was just one level and the lane was shared by a number of empty buildings, RedJacks and several brothels (I'm not joking). Vespa was on the verge of opening. Phil and I sat outside in the sun to enjoy my first pint of Challenger at a leaner that was bolted to the wall underneath a flowering hop bine. It was a revelation. I had enjoyed watching the cascade effect of the pint being and the intense grassy hoppiness of the scent of the beer. To taste, it was a riot of bitterness on a level I had never tasted before but would frequently exceed in the future. My first thought was 'bleurgh!" and similar to the experience of my first pint of Guinness, I persevered. Half way down the pint and also probably because of Phil's excellent company, I warmed to the pint and developed the conclusion that the stereotypical perception of British beer being warm and flat was a bit of a nonsense. I found that it was served just below room temperature and with a fine tingle of carbonation. I was also incredibly surprised that the flavour could be heightened by the slightly higher serving temperature. All I needed was to learn to enjoy more flavour in my beer. There were a few visits to the Hop after that, if only to get away from my usual haunts. Then something changed.

Happier times.

What changed was my employment. In March 2006 I wrote a comment in the duty manager's book where I worked at the Excelsior that got me sacked. It was a lengthy discourse as to my disappointment in the handling of the bar and the lack of follow through on promises of refurbishment and pay rises by the then-owner. I also said that he was a fat rich prick who cared more for the stitching on the seats of his new Ferrari than he did for the public face of his company. Since then I have learned that grand gestures, while satisfying at the time, are not as preferential as a quiet, dignified, diplomatic exit. I needed a job and so I went around the corner and applied at the Hop, who were losing Sally, one of their stars. Sally is gorgeous and so with me being only vaguely presentable it was only the additional string to my bow in presenting pub quizzes that got me the job, and what a job. As a bar job, it expanded my horizons and appreciation of beer from being a commodity that got people plastered to one that was an enjoyable flavour and a sociable conduit for conversation. People came to the pub to chat, play cards and eat. I cannot begin to tell you how much easier it is running a bar without these distractions. A point of pride for The Twisted Hop was that there were no pool tables, no poker machines and no television. The Hop was about beer and people. 

Not an actual little sister, but she might as
well be.

Side by side with my best man, Denny Crane.
22 Feb 2007.

The people at the Hop were special. Among them, some became my drinking cronies, my business partners, my best man and one of them my wife. I worked with a good crew behind that bar that like many crews went through all the Coronation St drama that hospitality attracts when people who work together fight and fornicate together. We worked well together and I recall fondly a procession of talented people, beautiful people and funny people. Twisted Hop former bar alumnus include lawyers, a former lawyer who played golf every day for a year around the world, an architect, journalists, a radiation therapist, and a bevvy of hardened hospitality professionals. There were also musicians, chefs and brewers that I now count among my friends. It was the company of these people that made for two of my fondest memories of being at The Twisted Hop: the first was having an afternoon off to lean against the bar with a couple of pints, some cheese and the cryptic crossword. Some of the regulars and I would attempt to conquer it daily with mental acrobatics and then after we were done we would talk about the pressing issues of the day and engage in friendly disagreement peppered with jokes; the other situation was when we would finish a busy shift on a Friday or Saturday night and sit down knackered for a staffie (a pint shouted for us by the pub), maybe another pint (paid for by us) before buying a few interesting beers from the fridge and heading away to a session of pontificating, smoking cigars and sampling beer. These became known as the Denny Crane Sessions and rank as being one of the happiest convivial experiences of my life.

I am not tempted to write witty caption because I actually
find this saddening.

For some reason I couldn't see the wood for the trees and I left my employment at The Twisted Hop. I went to manage another bar which for one reason or another was a fiasco. I still remained a loyal Hop regular and carried on presenting the pub quiz and then there was an earthquake. If it wasn't for the earthquake strengthening performed on the building to create the upstairs bar that the boys paid an arm and a leg for, the end of the Hop could have been tragically different. As it was the Hop was able to resume trading a few months later and then there was another earthquake and everything came skidding to a halt. The Hop was buggered. The Hop became the Twisted Hop, Poplar Lane as the business picked itself up and has re-opened as the excellent Twisted Hop, Woolston, the Twisted Hop Brewery in Sockburn and soon to be something else in Lincoln. I am happy that the business is operating again and is attracting a new set of people, new stories and new experiences. But what of the old Hop? Well it is the last remaining upright building in Poplar Lane as you can see from the photos following. I was there today taking them. The doors are all opened and some shitkicker has tagged the outside of the building. God alone only knows what it is like on the inside... a building where I met my wife; where one night I hosed down three blokes who were pissing on the wall of the back office when my little sister was trying to get in; where I solved hundreds of cryptic crossword clues with John and the two Peters; where the staff formed a chain of back massaging during service; where people enjoyed the beer, the food and each other's company, often meeting for the first time and sometimes, the last time; where those staff who smoked would end up frequently having a cigarette with the girls who worked at the neighbouring dominatrix dungeon when they had a moment between clients; where I had my last cigarette before quitting. This was a building with memories and seeing it in its current state is heartbreaking and confronting that those times are not coming back. You have to be pragmatic and face that reality, but The Twisted Hop in Poplar Lane shows that a pub is more than just bricks and mortar; it is more than a bar top, taps and tables; it is more than a licence and a business. You can have all of the preceding and have a bar, not a pub because a pub is an organic community. The crucial ingredients are people and soul. TTH had both.
Goodbye Poplar Lane.

Immediately following February's earthquake (photo taken by Martin Bennett)

And up the lane looking toward Lichfield St immediately after the February quake (photo by Martin Bennett)

In its current state, 5 July 2013

On the right was the storeroom and offices that I hosed down the hosers from. The doorway with 148 was the entry to our neighbour, the dominatrix dungeon.

For the love of dodgy boozers by a dodgy boozer

When I was serving in purgatory (also known as Linton Military Camp) I somehow found my way on to the committee of the Linton Soldier's Club, ending up as president of the mess committee for about two years. Each military camp has one and they are almost all uniformly identical. There will be linoleum because it is easy to hose down, there are bar leaners, a couple of well-cared for and well-used pool tables and a bar with a grill so that it can close peacefully at the end of the night when the Orderly Officer and Orderly Sergeant come to throw everyone out. Being so far from home, I spent a lot of time in that bar. I saw a lot of it at opening time and a lot of it at closing time. I played thousands of games of pool, consumed more beer and cigarettes* than is good for a person and when I look back, it is with a thing called nostalgie a la boue. 

Marty, Shaun and Tim demonstrate another
use for duct tape: customer control.

Nostalgie a la boue literally means nostalgia of mud and is the French term for the fond recollection of a misspent past of seedy bars and bad behaviour. There's something about a dodgy bar that I quite like from tacky memorabilia on the walls to the beer stained carpet on the floor. If a dodgy pub could talk, it would have more stories to tell than the bible. I'm looking back a little fondly because I was walking through the centre of Christchurch the other day. Most of my old haunts are now Wilson's Carparks and I cannot help but be saddened when I think of the happy hours spent idly leaning on the bar at The Bog Irish Bar in the pleasant and most excellent company of the bar staff and regulars. There would be the occasional shenanigans where there might be a scrap or someone would fall drunkenly face-first into the fire, but mostly it was a place of great humour, such as the attached photo of one of the bar staff's flatmates who was getting a bit lippy so we duct taped him to the banister on the stage and left him there to stew all night. I look at that stage and remember on occasion where I set a World, Commonwealth and Olympic record for consumption of Guinness while presenting a pub quiz. I won't say how much it was, but it ironically rhymes with 'plenty'. My rendition of the second half of the quiz was in Swedish and it finished about two hours after its scheduled conclusion. I was also fired and then rehired a year later when I had done some penitence, to be fair, Orla was very nice about it.

Here's to The Bog and everyone in it.
And to the Linton Baggies, the Cheviot Trust
and the Excelsior Sports Bar

Most men have some story of pub-based buffonery that they ought to be ashamed of: some experience that seemed funny at the time but in the sober light of day gets filed under 'the accumulation of wisdom' cross-referenced with 'I'm never doing that again'. Any verbal recollection of those sorts of stories gets a reprimand from Atilla the Wife but I get a strange feeling of warmth from them. I think it is a part of having a life lived and while Atilla considers the time and money spent 'pissing against a wall', I think it has some value. To quote Vivian Stanshall "I spent all of my money on drink, carousing and women and the rest I wasted."

*I no longer smoke of course. Disreputable habit, a bit like getting plastered and singing "You're just too good to be true" to passing policemen. Yeah, I don't do that anymore either.