KEY POINTS:
Just when you thought it was safe to start reading this column again without one of us banging on about the Music Awards, here I am, with yet another yarn.
One month on, you'd think we'd be over it. But this particular story has been a long time in the making and deserves an audience.
It is the story of a lone Tui and its migration - more than 18,000km - to a strange, new land.
It began the night of the New Zealand Music Awards, when the prize for best music video was awarded to one Mr Ian Hart, for the Brunettes' video Her Hairagami Set, and ended, more than a week later, with Hart triumphantly waving his trophy above his head - in the middle of King's Cross, London - to a passing crowd of mildly curious commuters, who slowed to watch what they must have thought was a rather second-rate street theatre performance.
But for the Tui (and myself) it was the warm, fuzzy ending to a rather trying ordeal.
Residing in Londy town these days, Hart was understandably "in absentia" on awards night.
As luck would have it, I was travelling north the very next day and the thought struck me that I should take the glorified paperweight to my dear, talented friend. It was, I rationalised, my duty.
Of course, the problem with this impromptu plan was no one else had any knowledge of it.
And people are strangely reluctant to hand over shiny awards to babbling blondes, who insist they really do know the winner and want to hand deliver the trophy to them - on the other side of the world.
Eventually, the gift of the gab won out (along with the exchange of some business cards and official ID) and I sashayed back through Vector's halls, swinging the golden prize, unashamedly basking in onlookers' misplaced admiration.
The story would have ended there, had it not been for a young girl who approached, asking for a photo with me and "my" trophy.
Which is when another thought struck me.
Taking Hart the statue was all well and good. But he was missing out on the accolades and adulation of being an award winner.
So I set out on my second quest of the night - to get as many friends and famous faces to pose with the trophy as possible. Hart may be missing his night in the spotlight but his Tui could still shine on.
Off I went to accost John Campbell and Dai, the cast of Shortland Street and various other industry types who were only to happy to pose with the golden trophy.
Yes, it was all coming up roses. Until early the next morning, when I arrived at the airport, to be told my suitcase was 5kg overweight.
Two guesses what caused that ...
As I set about repacking my suitcase, shuffling items into my hand luggage and throwing away other non-essentials, I failed to register a significant point as I carefully placed the award in my carry-on.
You see, while some may see the Tui as a national icon - a symbol of achievement, something to be revered - airport security see it a bit differently.
They see it more as a sharp, heavy object. Or a weapon. Just when it seemed the Tui's wings were clipped for good, our fortunes turned once again, and the statue was cleared to fly.
So, all's well that ends well. Hart has his Tui. I had my warm fuzzy moment. And some dirty thief in Hackney has my camera, capturing the whole saga.
But that, my friends, is another story.
