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Monday November 9: In which Hone Harawira and Rodney Hide discover it can be a lonely business being in the media spotlight for all the wrong reasons, and find consolation in the most unexpected of places - each other - through an exchange of email.
Rodney: Yeah, well, I'm not so sure I can help you, Hone.
Hone: So how come, bro? We rebels have to stick together.
Rodney: What do you mean "we", Tonto?
Hone: So now you're gonna lay all that oppressive colonialist hegemonic whiteman bull . . . . on me, too?
Rodney: Yes, well, I don't appreciate being referred to as "that wanker Rodney Hide" by your buddy.
Rodney: Yes, your buddy, Buddy.
Hone: Oh, you mean Buddy Mikaere? What is it with you honkies. Just because two fellas have the same skin colour and a few tats and talk about "mofos and s . . ." , doesn't mean we're mates or nuthin. That's bloody racist.
Rodney: So what are you going to do? Report me to the race relations commissioner?
Hone: Anyway, he's not my buddy any more than John Key's your buddy. And, you sure as hell got that one right. People like you and me go out on a limb, do the hard yards, and the big cheese just grins and laps up all the credit.
Rodney: No comment.
Hone: Cat got your tongue?
Rodney: Dog's breakfast.
Rodney: Bloody journo at the table pretending to be all buddy-buddy . . .
Rodney: No! In Christchurch. Act fundraiser, paying to hear words of wisdom from yours truly. Pearls before swine.
Hone: The pigs were there?
Rodney: Figure of speech.
Hone: And I'll tell you something else for nothing - this new search and surveillance Bill is a honky crock, too.
Rodney: You're right about that. We're being sidelined on it. They think they don't need us.
Hone: Big girls' blouses the lot of them. So how about it?
Hone: This apology s . . . What dya reckon?
Rodney: Hone, is this connection tight?
Hone: How dya mean, bro?
Rodney: I'm not going to wake up in the morning and find it all over the media, am I?
Hone: It's tight as, bro. But tell me, you weren't really sorry were you? The new model? I mean that's some hot chick you got hitched up with.
Rodney: Her name's Louise.
Hone: Yeah, but if I was taking Lou-Lou to Waikiki to show her off to all the Hawaiian brothers, and to London and Toronto and Los Angeles and all those other honky towns, I wouldn't be sorry.
Rodney: But I am sorry.
Hone: Because you got caught?
Rodney: Yes. I mean, no. What could I have been thinking?
Hone: Don't ask me, bro. Seems to me, you weren't . . . thinking. After making all that noise all these years about perks and s . . . Seems to me your mind wasn't on the job. Or maybe it was - tee hee.
Rodney: What are you implying?
Hone: Lurve can play tricks on a man, eh bro. No need to apologise for that.
Rodney: I'd prefer to keep my private life out of it.
Hone: So that's why you flew her round the world at taxpayer's expense?
Rodney: Who's side are you on? I never broke any laws. In any case, you can't talk.
Hone: I paid for that trip to Paris myself.
Rodney: Yes, but you were supposed to be working.
Hone: Don't give me that puritanical bull . . . . You gonna to help me or not?
Rodney: Help you what?
Hone: With my apology. I mean, you made it look like they had your kahoonas in a vice. So painful.
Hone: Yeah kahoonas like, the family . . .
Hone: Whatever. That was some performance, bro.
Rodney: I'm not the leader of the Act party for nothing. Say, Hone, if those honky-loving mofo bosses of yours don't get over it, ever thought about jumping waka? You know, we're not as hard-assed as everybody makes out. And we were the only ones who voted against the neo-colonialist, imperialist Forebed and Seashore Act.
Hone: Foreshore and Seabed.
Rodney: Whatever. Look, why don't you pop round to discuss it. Lou's gone off to play squash. Hey, and if it doesn't work out, we can always talk about Paris. I'll send the ministerial limo right over.
Hone: Sweet, bro. And I'll bring my Te Reo Monopoly board game. I bags be the racing car.
Rodney: Ka pai, bro!
• Simon Cunliffe is assistant editor at the Otago Daily Times.