Once upon a time, one could rely upon your local authority (council) to do their best for the community forced by law to pay their wages. But I guess the days of honesty, imagination, and initiative are like the late Sir Winston Churchill’s infamous speeches:

‘Never before in the history of mankind have so few people relied upon the compelled generosity of so many.’

Amen. Praise the Lord of Greed, etc.

Having been a ratepayer for more than thirty years, I’d watched the council twiddle its thumbs and provide the minimum service for the money extorted. So, with the aid of several bottles of red wine, I decided to turn my small city into New Zealand’s biggest tourist attraction. All it took was imagination and I knew I could rely upon the council to put it into action (they were begging for ideas) to rejuvenate the main street, whose shops were dying from lack of customers.

New Zealand has an extremely attractive native pigeon called the Kereru. It’s brightly coloured, with a white apron-like chest and a deep red and purple body. There’s a touch of green to flash in the sunlight. It’s over a foot tall, and its wings extend nearly three feet. It also has a huge chest and flies around with a loud flop-flop-flop noise. This magnificent bird has increased in numbers around my house over the last few years. September to February (summer here), they would sit on my letterbox and stare at me with a ‘feed me or I’ll come and poo on your head,’ attitude. They had their own parents playing security guards perched on high trees to keep an eye on the newly born chicks. This are a very well organised native breed and nothing is too much bother for their families.

To avoid being pooed upon, I wore a WW1 German tin helmet. Thus, I was prepared for all emergencies except a possible shortage of red wine. If that ever occurred, it could best be described as a national disaster. Oh woe is me, etc., and so on. But luckily, I have never been pooed upon, nor have I run out of wine. Like the Kereru, I’m a highly organised NZ native.

I emailed the mayor and he agreed to discuss my suggestions. My ideas were simple. Council would build a large weatherproof plastic Kereru about three stories high on vacant inner city land. Thus, the land already council owned would be cost free. Council, being council, would be able to borrow endless money at dirt-cheap interest rates. The revolving Kereru would be painted on the inside and internally lit to show off the bird’s sparking colour scheme. It would sit on a three-story cairn built from river stones obtained from the local waterways. Inside the cairn would be thirty or so small shops selling local and NZ made products only. No McDonalds or national chain stores. This would increase productive local employment and provide the cash flow to pay for the entire project. My concept would be surrounded by native bushes and powered by solar panels and wind turbines - any extra power generated could be used to reduce the council’s power bill in exchange for land rental. I also suggested huge Kereru signs at each end of town to advise freeway motorists of our revolving Kereru, with realistic sound effects. My little city would be a sure winner.

I would arrange for my extensive overseas contacts to organise tourist flights to my eighth-wonder-of-the-world Kereru project, and stay a few days in a local hotel converted from a redundant educational institution that government decided they didn’t want anymore. This would create even more local employment, and provide a much increased cash flow. Our little city with tumbling tumbleweed in the main street would soon be booming again. I made it perfectly clear that I didn’t expect to profit from my ideas and if credit was deemed due, a small plastic sign on the wall beside the Durex machine would be all I required. But I wouldn’t mind the redundant tumbleweed for my barbecue.

The mayor was highly enthusiastic and agreed to appoint several councillors to organise everything. We met about once a month and he named those he would involve with the initial fund raising. I tactfully suggested he might go down in history as a mayor that actually did something for the community. He beamed like a letterbox full of junk mail.

The months passed and nothing happened but the mayor said everything was due to start the following month. Unfortunately, it was the same story every month. I bumped into one of the people the mayor had named and he knew nothing about the project. I told him to check with the mayor. Within a few days, I got an angry phone call from the Lord of Egotism. The next day his secretary asked me to visit him at eleven o’clock the following morning.

I was shown into the office of the new council CEO who had received much public criticism for his total lack of experience. He knew nothing about my Kereru project and recommended I use private enterprise to build the project. The mayor had obviously told him to get rid of me, utilising his CEO bureaucratic wisdom/vision that obviously stopped short at the end of his stubby nose.

I guess I wasted almost a year trying to redraw the map so that it actually contained my charming little city. Sadly, I’m beginning to suspect that councils and other local authorities are staffed and run by a bunch of useless nincompoops. And to be a mayor, all you need to do is shake hands, sing rap music, and waffle on about absolutely nothing in a positive manner. My local mayor certainly showed that he was all talk and no action.

Lest we forget that still a tongue makes a wise head. And, thanks to the God of Kereru, I’ve forgotten the mayor’s name.

Lance Broughton is an incorrigible flightless Kiwi in full flight. See his webpage here.