I’m probably breaking a whole series of confidentiality arrangements by saying this, but the Big Plastic Rugby World Cup Waka (BPRWCW) is partly my fault.
It’s mainly Dr. Thaddeus Jack’s (aka the Point Howard Stalker) fault though.  Having said that, I did include him on my initial design team, mainly because no-one else would work with me and partly because I was to blame for his past internment in Guantanamo Bay (it was a joke – how was I to know Americans have no sense of irony?)
He was included on the design team because of his ability to make things out of plastic.  He’s the man who invented the ring-pull wedding ring – which was a huge seller in places like Levin until he got greedy and started telling people the sequins were diamonds…
He also invented the vuvuzela.  Originally it was designed as a beer bong until he found it made an irritating noise when he was trying to clear a blockage.  Thus independently wealthy, and me with a job lot of plastic I couldn’t get rid of, we found ourselves before the collective decision makers of Ngati Whatua and Te Puni Kokiri presenting our ideas.
The four-storey Plastic Colin Meads, complete with gaming room and three floors of bars, was first up.
“That doesn’t look like Colin Meads,” said one of the panel.
“It will,” said Dr. Jack.  “The only face mould I had was Lady Gaga.  The Chinese are working on a Colin one at the moment.”
Next was the Plastic 400m long Buzzy Bee.
“Our research has shown that if you get the kids along, the parents will come too,” said Dr. Jack.  “So about 40m2 has been set aside for a play area and the rest will be iconic Kiwi drinking areas.”
The panel rumbled collectively.
“Look,” said the head bloke, “I should tell you that we were kind of hoping for something Maori.  Like, say, a waka.”
I knew from the look on Dr. Jack’s face that it was time to start packing up.
“A waka?  We could do that.  But as a bar?  Isn’t that going to be a bit culturally cringey?”
“We like the idea, and it’s a meeting place, not a bar,” said an important looking woman.
This was the cue for Dr. Jack’s many psychological problems to get together and have a party.
“Why bother making anything unless you can get some moolah out of it?  You can’t make money out of a waka with no bar – and you can’t have a bar in a waka!  It’s culturally all ****ed up!”
I tried vainly to hush him.  But he carried on.  “How many rugby fans want to come and see a plastic waka?  Tons would want to come and have their photo taken with a four-storey Colin Meads!”
I think the dive, complete with stabbing motions, across the table was what killed our pitch.
Anyway, after we had explained to the police that it was all a misunderstanding (and the bloke from Ngati Whatua was pretty helpful when I lied and told him Dr. Jack was suffering from Gulf War syndrome), we were driven to the airport and went our separate ways.
Until yesterday, when the good Doctor rang me.
“Someone rang talkback and said it wasn’t a good look to have a Maori icon as a piss-up joint!  Told you!”
“You rang talkback,” I said, holding my head in my hands, “I heard you.”
“Hey – I’ve got this idea for a plastic thing for the Golden Shears…it’s a giant sheep and…”
I hung up.