Mum's Christmas gift was no pipe of peace
Py, Korry, I'm glad this Christmas business is over. I have never worked so hard as when I take the old V8 to town to do the Christmas hopping.
What with finding a place to park and mustering the kids, I have just about had it.
I tell you what, I would rather cut up a three-ply tea chest for kindling with a blunt tommyhawk than go through it again.
It's easy enough to choose a Christmas box for the missus 'cause our washing machine and fridge is always out of date, so I blow into one of these places where the salesmen are dressed better than Mr Holyoake and tell him to send out the latest and I'll pay him in two years time.
The kids are easy, too – I get them the usual things which you put in the dustbin in about two weeks time if they are not chopped to pieces under the lawnmower before that.
The wife’s sister is a sitter for the stiletto shoes, which is not so bad, as I always use the heals to spear the flattie when she gets tired of them.
The mother in law is a problem 'cause she is always taking umbrage and doesn't drink, smoke or chew. Spare me days yous can't buy her a packet of umbrage for Christmas so I get her a book called “How To Make Friends Without Earbashing Them”
The wifes brother is an easy one- as easy as pulling puha out of wet ground. I just tell him to go on helping himself to my beer, mussels and pigs' trotters as usual all the year round.
Py korry, this joker has got the cost of living down to a fine art, and is always talking about the Welfare State. Spare me days, it is the welfare state for him alright. I have never seen a coot do so little for so much, as Sir Winston Churchill once said.
Well, I get a Christmas box myself. The missus presents me with a pipe. She says that I look more dignified with a pipe and that all the best pakeha jokers smoke them. This means more expense for me 'cause I have to but a coat. A joker can't carry all the equipment to smoke the pipe in a pair of shorts and a singlet.
I next make a study of these pipe smoking coots and py korry, there is a lot to learn. The main thing is to look very wise while you are filling the pipe from the tobacco pouch after spilling a good amount on the floor. You then look round to make sure that you have a good lot of people to watch you get this plurry thing into action. Your next job is to either tell a funny story or start the korero about world affairs. After you get cracking you strike a match and hold it about two inches away from your pipe
You must keep on talking all the time while the match is burning. In the meantime all the people are laying the odds as to whether you will light the plurry thing before you burn your fingers.
These coots always lose, cause you always get there by the photo finish, but only for a short time; then you start the whole business over again. Well I learn all about how to get a license for this pipe smoking and go down to the pub to have a few pots with the boys.
I have not been there long when a pakeha coot chirps up and argues the toss.
“Look here” I say “You pipe down and listen to me”
I then give him a good poke in the puku with the stem of my pipe “The point I want to make is this” I says and then push my pipe along the bar stem first and tell the barman to keep the counter more clean.
“As for you” I says to some joker “you don't know what you're talking about” and I give my pipe a flick and splash him with the stuff that kills the bugs on roses.
Then I bend down and tap the pipe on the heal of my shoe, then put it in my mouth and blow hard until it makes a noise like a night club artists or a suckling pig squealing. I tap it on the palm of my hand, point it at people, rap it on the counter, and do everything but smoke it. By this time everybody is sitting up and taking notice.
”Py korry” they say “we have never seen Hori look so important” and they ask me to stand for Parliament.
I tell them that I am used to hard work and that if they are looking for a coot to hold down a soft job then they had better see the wifes brother.
After I get home that night I think I'll give the pipe the rebore so I get out all the tools and the pipe cleaners and a little gadget about the size of an acorn that looks like a baby hedgehog with spikes all over it. I make a pretty good job of this reconditioning business, refuel the pipe and settle down for a quiet smoke. After a while one of the kids says that the kitchen sink is blocked up again and is going “gurgle gurgle”
The mother in law says “That's not the sink, it's your father with that confounded pipe and Hori” she says “I wish you'd be more careful with your pipe. There's tobacco all over the floor and the vacuum cleaner is all blocked up with the plurry stuff and your bedroom smells like an old mens home. And furthermore, don't point that plurry thing at me, it might be loaded.”
Stiffen the crows, what can a man do?
Anybody got a tailormade?