SO I am sitting in yet another bach for hire. This time in Himatangi Beach in the Manawatu district between a semi-successful Whanganui season and a no doubt blindingly successful Palmerston North one. 20/20 foresight perhaps.

Though to be fair in Whanganui I sold enough tickets to sell out one show, it was just a shame I was doing two.

I was also warned by a friend that the people of Whanganui were weirdos. I cannot vouch for all Wanganui-ans, but I met the usual mix of weird, no so weird and of course the homosexual, who always makes me laugh and supplies the wine. Some of the elderly audience members did seem to baulk slightly at the thought of Long Jean Silver 70’s porn star “Stumping” people in their rectums with her withered deformed leg…..but that doesn’t necessarily make them weird.

I didn’t see Michael Silly Laws on my journeys BUT I did manage to get a photo of the patch I had made specially for Whanganui into the paper. I also called my show Ot Pink Bits as I figured they had enough h’s for now.

Despite my friend’s warning the town actually had a special place in my heart after a fun performance there 5 years ago. The mayor of the time, Chas Poynter, came running up to me after my show, ginger toupee flapping like a native tussock, and declared me an honorary citizen of the town. This apparently entitled me to free mouth-to-mouth resuscitation on the streets of Whananui and he only hoped that he could he my salivating saviour if required.

Thankfully neither my heart nor lungs gave out at the thought and I survived unmolested.

Chas was a sweetheart however, compared to the Paso Doble-ing twat munch that is Laws, it’s just a shame he’s the one that’s dead.

Anyways I was about to set off for Himatangi on Sunday when I got my first ever flat tyre. I had to remove all my bloody props etc.. from the boot to discover if I had the spare I suspected I did. I found it, and a few dead insects to boot in a pool of water. (Oh did I mention it was pissing it down like an old man was building a really big boat.) Thankfully my AA membership is up to date and I didn’t break a nail swapping them over.

I was however therefore forced to drive only at 80km all the way to the beach, which was an exercise in excessive tail-gating. Look, fuckers, I know I’m going slowly but I do have a reason and a mac truck bearing down within an inch of my behind is enough to provoke me to stab him in the throat with a banjo. It would be a much more valid excuse than “Oh he put a hand on my thigh” anyways. SO FUCK OFF.

OK better now.

So I got to Himatangi via the friendly 4 Square, thankful I wasn’t going north coz that road was closed due to snow. I then unscrewed a cheeky Pinot from Otago, cooked up some tuna pasta followed by a spongy pud and settled into 7 episodes of Mad Men by a roaring fire.

Which was awesome.

I am relatively new to this watching an entire TV series at once concept. I realise it isn’t a new one but as a late convert can I say it’s rather choice. Though I did have some weird dreams about pitching campaigns and imagining I was the incredibly saucy Joan. Well I do have the hair and breasts and ass for it after all.

Though the following line made me realise I may be a bit late: “It’s like once they hit 30 a light goes out in them.”

So on that note, I went to bed.

In breaking news I have been nominated for a Myspace Choice Award! Vote for me at www.myspace.com/kiwihub. The fact that I am up against Dai Henwood, Flight of the Conchords AND Rhys Darby means nothing...It's obviously between Josh and Cori.

A few comments recently, however nicely intended, have pissed me right off....

The Arrogant Poem

You tell me I look good….

For 35

And I tell you to go fuck yourself

I mean of course it’s nice to be told that I look good

But you say 35 like it’s amazing that I’m Alive

That any minute now a blood vessel in my brain will burst

Rigor mortis posing me in my hearse in my last act of knitting booties

Beloved lawn bowls timetable clutched to my chest

Which now rests at my knees

Sent there with the velocity

Of age

A tattoo of my favourite zimmer frame adorning my skin which resembles a leather suitcase from 1927

Oestrogen levels at minimum

Osteoporosis, necrosis, Alzhemiers, Parkinson’s closing in

Metabolism plumbing the depths and plumbing well let’s just say… inept

A road map of varicose veins solidifying in my remains

At 35

And we wonder why women disappear from our TV screens once they’ve been smacked about by 4 decades of misogyny

Alpha Male can bang on til he’s blue in the face and little blue pills are mandatory for banging the intern for his trophy case.

Bruce Forsythe is 81 and hosting BBC TV, born in 1928, when JFK was elected he was 23, When Charles and Di got married he was 53 and when his co-star was born, he was 43

People say Mick Jagger is still sexy and Keith Richards looks like an SUV did burnouts on his face

But it still graces the cover of rolling stone, no photoshopping required just an a glowing tribute to a man who has inspired a thousand riffs

And I’m not taking away from this

I just wonder where Wendy Petrie will be when she’s 80

Why Judy Bailey was removed at 53 despite massive popularity

Why there are not really any female presenters on C4 currently

Why radio shows never boast 2 females and one male generally

And why Jason Gunn is the host of every fucking thing

I saw a 94 year old woman in a documentary recently

That means she is 59 years older than me

And I’m looking good despite my age?

Newsflash …..women do not disappear at age 50

I’ve got a hell of a lot of living left in me

So thank you for saying I look nice, but ditch the coda

Lose the addendum, the footnote and start over

You may think you’re complimenting me but you’re not

Because I know I look good….but I look good fullstop.