New Zealand ‘03: October 19, 2003

Dear Sir –

and also for the attention of Lord & Lady Venezuela-Shearer, Victoria Moon, Gus and Ms Brown.

I thank you for the responding emails. I am penning this to you as I sit on the outer deck of a large sea-faring vessel that is transporting myself and my statuesquely-challenged companion to the South Island.

Gus says I am not allowed to call her a “Jewish gnome” as it is offensive.

Damn all that political correctness and its policies. Thanks to its ever growing popularism, it is no longer possible to call a spade a spade. One has to call it “A gardening implement that the Guatemalan Houseboy uses to weed the garden”.


As I sit here admiring outstanding scenic views and my nasal hairs are being tickled by the distinctive and aromatic scent of sheep (also being transported on this ship), it crosses my mind to write you lovely people.

I have spent the day in Wellington – the capital city of this land – having brunch at a café on the seafront; followed by nachos, dips, ice-cream and champagne on the beach – which happens to be right in the centre of the town. Imagine having a beach at the end of your road in a major city!


     Which reminds me, Sir Tsarina: on reading your recent email, I detected an element of jealousy in the wording of the second paragraph.

Whilst I cannot share with you the amazing weather we are having here, my writing you is not intended to further highlight your plight: Q.E.D. that you are stuck in some godforsaken hinterland where the word “heating” is more a wasteful exhalation of the lips rather than an activity that a radiator provides. And so in consideration of your current position, I offer these words of comfort: Buy some thermals and stop whining like a byatch!!


We are now being treated to three hours of nautical perspective as we move from the North to the South Island – where it our intention to stop at Fox Glacier to do a half day tramp over ice-age style landscape.

To be honest, I am a little anxious and must admit that certain very private parts of my anatomy puckered up when I saw photos of what we had signed up for. But I believe that it will be quite a memorable experience should we be able to control our bladders long enough to complete the venture. I rather think it will be one of those “One small step for Man” momentous moments and have been working on appropriate lines to mark the occasion.

So far I have only managed to come up with “(A) nigger on ice … brrr!!!”

Not as lyrical as I would have liked, but sounds like a Disney production, non?


     To answer your question, Heather; the Māori are the native peoples of this land whereas the Aborigines are native to Australia.

A small, but important mistake to make; and one that impelled me to set up the ‘Zoolander Charity’ – which will raise funds to educate Americans on the existence of other peoples and ethnicities. (Low blow – sorry).

The really funny thing is that I am an intrigue here because although they have native darkies here, I am more nappy-headed and deeper tanned than they are used to. I am the plain chocolate to their Caramac – if you will.


     To the Long Man: I offer my congratulations and full kudos for having dated my beloved sister Venezuela for the past three years. Your outstanding contribution to her happiness has been duly noted and is appreciated.

Your certificate of “Very Reverend-ness” is in the post for services to your country. Mainly – having put up with her extensive underwear collection and her eagerness to display her rotund posterior at every available opportunity. As well as putting up with the fearfully freakish crowd that is her family.

I salute you, Sir, and thank you for being a good thing for so long! Pat yourself on the back and cup your skinny white arse for me.


     On the subject of where to spend the Christian-based public holiday due at the end of the year, I would like to take this opportunity to respond to Venezuela’s email.

Please note that I take great defense at your description of Catford being as a, and I quote “working, nay underclass area”. I feel moved to defend this area of South London that has so long been home to me.

It is true that Crystal Palace is indeed a more upwardly mobile and greatly cleaner place to live, but I would like to point out that Catford is full of simple folks who dream big dreams – much like people anywhere. It cannot compete with CP on a sociological level; however there are many positive things to be said for the locale and its people.

We have a wonderful and thriving market place (Where else would you find such an abundance of “everything for a pound” shops?); frequent and accessible transport (Any of which could have you out of the area in under ten minutes); as well as a rich cultural and arts heritage (Please see: the drunks that hang around the Rushey Green and the “University Hospital Lewisham” – to name but a few).

Should all this fail to persuade you of the merit of the area, please consider the following: Even prostitutes and drug dealers have to come from somewhere!

I leave these thoughts with you.


The Lady McWog™
The Māori people are even more beautiful in the flesh. And their men have the most wonderful thighs. I have to keep myself from dropping to my knees and licking them as they pass! And the women … well the fantasies are running into pages.

Suffice it to say that should I stop admiring the geographical scenery, I fear that I may slut myself through their population. This may not leave the best impression of myself, but the more I think about it, the more I figure that it is the best way to get that “authentic Māori experience”.

I would appreciate your feedback on developing my travel writing style. Please use the Rate This and Like This buttons as the quickest means of leaving an opinion. If you have time or feel moved to, please leave a comment. Thanks muchly for your time and your criticism. 🙂


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AUTHOR: I am might war. I have a love of music, the written word, travel, Anime, polar bears, people and “sticking and colouring”.

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