In preparation for the event, Waterfront Auckland has developed a bunch of hospitality tenancies on the North Wharf. At the last minute one tenant pulled out and in a panic they called my old mate Johnny d to see if he could throw together a pop-up bar to run during the tournament. He already has two new restaurants to open and threw the opportunity my way.

So I flew up and looked at the space and decided we could do something pretty cool. I had this great idea that we could do a Christchurch thing. We would fly up Christchurch bands each week and they would work for a share of the turnover. This would mean we could promote Christchurch music and these guys could get a gig and make some money (both of which are tough to do in this city at present).

We would do Canterbury wines and Christchurch craft beers and fly up some of our best chefs to represent the province. We gathered together the old gang from way back in the early Cartel days with the plan of injecting a little bit of our city into the tournament and reminding visitors that Christchurch wasn’t finished just yet.

So I pitched this to them and they were very supportive of the idea. I flew up to Auckland a bunch of times, setting up suppliers and bludging all the equipment I would need. Two weeks and a couple of grand later and some egg-head at Waterfront Auckland decided against the plan. Where I had been getting nothing but support for my plan, suddenly I couldn’t get anyone to answer their phone and then I was informed that live music did not fit the mix. The whole thing was a bit alternative and they didn’t want “a bunch of scruffy kids damaging our tenancy”.

Now, I have worked creating precincts in the past. I know that the mix is important and some concepts don’t fit the mix. And I know that what we were proposing was edgier and dirtier than what they have up there, but I thought that was the point. I thought it would be fun to bring a crowd down to the waterfront who might not otherwise participate in the RWC. I also thought the feel-good element of the concept was something that visitors, Aucklanders and Cantabrians would embrace and support.

What fucks me off is that I feel like I was strung along and essentially told that all I needed to do was sign-up and it would happen. I wasted a couple of weeks of my time when I could have been working on setting up something down here. I wasted a couple of grand and while that’s not a heap of money, it’s enough when you have fuck-all and what you do have you are trying to pay your mortgage with. Then I had the carpet pulled out from under me at the last minute because some fuckwit is precious of his Gib-board.

So any of you that are heading to Auckland are to avoid North Wharf and are instead to support Johnny d’s empire which includes Britomart Country Club, 1885, Racket Bar and Angents and Merchants. I am indebted to him because he has now provided employment to the people who had given up their jobs to come up and work for me. So “thanks” to Johnny and crew and “fuck you” to Waterfront Auckland.

Sadly, we have decided that the bike now has to live elsewhere. So now nobody can enjoy it. Tonight it will be parked under the watchful eye of Ben the bouncer and then next week I will relocate it until the spare parts arrive. Does anyone have a shed I can keep it in for a while? I have told Ben that if he finds out who did it, he is to give them a bear-hug until they loose consciousness.

We all went over to Lake Brunner for five days which was a nice break. It rained non-stop, which is what you should expect when holidaying on the West Coast. Sometimes I wonder if the Coast climate is better suited to trees than humans, but you’d never know that from the amount of Commodores zooming about Moana with jet-skis on trailers.

We ate too much and drank far too much and fired more than 2000 rounds from the pellet gun, which logically turned into a game involving petrol and a fire. Aoife was the surprise convert to small firearms, getting up each morning and heading to the deck to get her fix before breakfast. When Josh arrived with his .270 and offered her a go at firing a real gun, she jumped at the opportunity. She reckons she’s going to take Riley on a date to the firing range, which I think sounds very romantic.

We had a small awards ceremony and Tim was the winner of manager of the Year due in a large part to his promise that a vote for him would mean more liberal drinking on the job. Alex was voted customer of the year and as his prize got to come on the trip.

Michael Fordham put in some real effort on the drinking front and it seems to have gotten in the way of his reading.

Goodbye Blue Monday won the coveted Employer of the Year award in the face of some stiff competition.

We had a Beta trial bike which we rode until the neighbours must surely have been sick of us. It was a bit daunting for people to learn to ride a motorbike on a 350cc monster that  would throw you off at the slightest hint of throttle. Mark ended up as the most competent learner. Eventually he developed the cockiness of a guy that can ride a motorbike but has never come off one.

We all wanted to stay longer, but had to get back to Christchurch to open the bar back up so that you all have somewhere to drink and complain about the wind/heat/earthquake.

A word of warning. Bouncer Ben has never really had to do any of his ninja shit here due to intoxicated emos leaving fairly politely. But, if anyone gets all silly and tooled up in here, I am of the opinion that he would be faster than a speeding bullet.

Our ballitics experts (Josh) will continue their investigations.

We are taking votes at the bar. Who will win? Only time will tell.

In one corner we have Aine (big Cockerty), the older and wiser sister who has been working here since we opened. Her interests include dressing up in silly outfits with Rosie and looking up skanks that she used to go to school with on Facebook. A vote for Aine is a vote for older siblings in general.

Aine loves cheese.

Aine recently got drunk and told us that she would like to sleep with a local well-known mid-career artist. I will keep you  up-to-date on how this pans out.

Aoife is the younger sister (little Cockerty) and was not even born in the 1980s. She says things like “Soz” and “ROFL” without it sounding strange. Aoife is a whole different generation to me and can’t remember the world before cell-phones and Gmail. A vote for Aoife is a vote for whatever the generation is that’s after Y.

Aoife has some pretty sweet mates from when she was growing up – one came in one night and spilled the beans to me on all the stuff Aoife got up to before I knew her…

To the owner of the Naughty Boy bum dildo who left in in the toilets on Friday night: Your silicone wonder is available for collection at the bar.

Apparently, by massaging the prostate while you wank off or bum-fuck somebody, you will achieve “intense orgasms”.

I like to think of myself as pretty liberal when it comes to sex issues, but I do wonder if having it off with your bum in a pub toilet might just be over the line.

Bouncer Ben Says: “Just when I thought I had seen it all at this place…”

Tonight, we’re back into providing Christchurch’s best gigs with Thought Creature and Magic Eye from 10pm.

I live very close to the bar so the Poplar Lanes/ High Street area is my neighbourhood. This week, it has been really nice to watch the area come back to life. C1 and The Sauce are now open again to supply us with caffeine. It was great to catch up with all the staff and share our stories.

Embassy and SOS are both still off limits and we’re all waiting for them to open up again before our sneakers wear out.

I popped into Emporium on High St to check they had stood up. They have now opened again and Jimmy tells me trade has been holding up okay. I reckon if I was in the market for a $400 path-racer I’d be buying the hot Raleigh you can see in the photo below.

It seems that the major aftershock shook Steve’s house so hard that it picked up all the shitty couches, ciggie butts, pornography, and small pieces of cheese from his balcony and dumped them over the railing.

We will keep you up to date as more information arises.

I find myself wandering the city and thinking “fuck, what used to be there?” as I encounter another rubble-filled lot and I’m sure this will continue for some time yet.

Those of you that remember the good old days, when Mark, Pixie and I lived out the back of Munns Menswear will remember what a death-trap that place was. Yesterday I thought “I’ll pop out for a quick rubberneck and see how the old flat held up”. Scarily the place seems to have fallen down. I suppose it’s lucky that they condemned the place after we moved out.

Goodbye Blue Monday will be opening on Wednesday night for table tennis, stitch-n-bitch and a chance for you all to pop on and let us know you are safe. From there we will resume normal trading hours. While we normally have five entrances to our bar from the street, we are still down to one and so you will need to access us via the alleyway off High St beside the post office.

We have an awesome weekend’s entertainment lined up so why not come down and check the Bodgie has survived…

Tommy Ill were supposed to be playing Saturday but instead they will be playing at a house party. I’m sure if you’re in the right circles, you will hear where this house is.

Otherwise, Al’s Bar looks like a good place to catch some live music over the weekend and the Dux is as reliable as ever. Go down and show them your support.

Anna, Rosie, Aine and Aoife have all now escaped town, but will be back to nervously serve Bodgie Beer next week.

You will all be pleased to know that the Matchless survived the quake, although she appears to have stopped leaking oil which is concerning. At about 6am on Saturday morning, I had images of myself thumping out of the post-apocalyptic city on the bike and wished I’d gotten my shit together and fixed the clutch. I will definitely have it going for the next major quake.