Monthly Archives: July 2015

Shotgun Bullets and Laser Beams™

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Here is a clip starter for this new enterprise, SI Empire, fronted by Nelson Patchett. Like a pre-Sienna Miller Jude Law (or a younger Aaron Carter if we’re to be uncharitable), Nelson wanders through a vineyard, presumably a borrowed one, in a pair of tailored denim knee shorts and blazer, musing over philosophy, notions of power and the right… Read more »

MasterChef: Season Six — where are the female judges?

On Sunday evening the latest iteration of MasterChef New Zealand screened over at its new home on TV3 with a refreshed cast of judges, and a clutch of red-faced, sweaty, desperate home cooks auditioning for the famed white apron, the Skoda, the book deal, and the chance to radicalize New Zealand cuisine; to perhaps reduce it to a final drop… Read more »

The Sands of Time

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“What was my Centrepoint? Either a radical sex cult or a place to buy Butterick 7634.”   I have this enduring image of my dad striding up the main drag of sand at Surfer’s Paradise, tanned, holding a briefcase, wearing a large and ungainly pair of mafia shades and decked out in a pair of speedos. That’s all. Oh, he… Read more »

The New Zealand Buffet

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  Last Sunday, we hit the smorgasbord sensation called Valentines. It was my daughter’s 7th birthday and I wanted her to have the experience of plenty. We arrived at 12pm. A cursory look around the joint revealed they’d removed the giant margarine sculptures of yore. Nothing neo-Platonic about those structures, although some of the subjects were often classical; a Poseidon, a centaur. Sadly,… Read more »

Deidre’s Belt: A Quick Guide to Coronation Street

Like Orion’s Belt, Deidre Barlow’s belt is hopefully taking in the great wonder of life from the sky. Deirdre is still alive and well on our screens as are Ken, Norris, Rita, and the one that got bashed by Richard. It’s not that complex. The Street is not really overly complex to understand. 1. Everyone on the Street either works… Read more »

Urban Drift

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Your first tyres were cheap and skinny, and long sessions slicing champagne ham in the delicatessens of Countdown would barely cover one decent fat alloy. Once upon a time, the barely warranted ’89 Laurel (automatic, 2.5-litre non-turbo straight six) craved a really decent set of rims fitted with some low-profile slicks, for street-legal nirvana. Later, when the money allowed, a three-puck… Read more »