Jim Hopkins: Footpath traumas put network outage hoo-ha in shade

The thin owl (more Blunder than Bunter) gasped: "Yarrooogh, it's not fair, you rotters!" Well, of course it's not. But it's happened - and happened with a vengeance.

Out of the blue, on a bright sunny day, without warning, Auckland has struck. Kapow! Whammo! The Blooper City pounced and another one bit the dust.

There are malign forces at work in the northern parish, gentle reader.

Malevolent entities lurk within the bowels of the ACC - no, no, the other ACC, the one with the ugly tower block next to the ugly Aotea Centre - and they don't have our best interests at heart, as this thin owl discovered in the blink of a nanosecond last Saturday afternoon.

Things had gone swimmingly until then. An early flight, sober pilots, the novelty of Auckland. Number 2 son was agog, normal teenage cool abandoned, especially after hurtling up the Sky Tower to stand on those thick sheets of glass that make your tummy tingle when you see the ground below.

All of Auckland was there, Rangitoto a dwarf, the Harbour Bridge a coat hanger, Aotea Square closed off and dug up.

"What's happening there?"

"I don't know," said the guide. "I hate Auckland City. I only come here to work."

"Where do you live?"

"Mt Albert."

Isn't that part of Auckland? This answer suggests those shaping the Super City have a major pride problem on their hands. But it's not the biggest problem they've got, oh, no.

The biggest problem they've got is working out how to overthrow the evil empire that is the ACC's Footpath Department.

It won't be easy. It will involve many workshops, extensive consultation, managerial restructurings, the outsourcing of services, perhaps, or their relocation in Manil a, but it must be done.

Because the Footpath Department doesn't like people using its footpaths and attacks them whenever it can - even on Saturday afternoons.

Here's what happened. Aucklanders will know Greenlane East - a very busy road. The Ibis Hotel (our temporary residence) and Ellerslie Racecourse on one side, the Racecourse Dairy on the other. And when you've bought a few things in the dairy and stepped out and seen the traffic lights are RED on the busy road, you think, "Oh, let's get across fast - and toot sweet too!!!!"

Enter the evil empire. Unbeknown to southern innocents, the EE had cunningly placed a line of ornamental kerbstones along the edge of their footpath, each randomly raised at assorted heights up to 10cm above the surface of the seal.

Out leaped the thin owl, focused, like a chicken, on getting to the other side. "Yarrooogh!!!!" In a trice, kerbstone met toe and Kersplatt!! The owl was sprawled on the macadam, milk carton ruptured, third finger left hand protruding at an awkward angle, right in front of the imposing Fertility Associates' building.

Which was quite appropriate, actually, because a certain amount of "reproductive" language did follow.

"Are you all right, Dad?" asked No 2 son. "Can we still go to Top Gear?" Hmmmm ...

Much happened in the next few hours; a precautionary tetanus shot (tetanus? In Remuera?), an $85 x-Ray ("No, no, that's after ACC's paid its share"), then, on the cusp of Sunday morning, a very big needle and a very numb finger about to be "rotated" - i.e. grabbed, yanked, and twisted into line.

After which a kindly doctor applied what seemed like six months' output from the mines in Plasterstan to the offending phalange, thus ensuring the bone won't set at a 45-degree angle.

Trouble is, when you're left-handed and you've got something resembling Mike Tyson's glove on your mitt, it's hard to do all sorts of things - like pounding a keyboard.

It's hard to focus on the world when you can't see past the wodge on your fist and harder still to take seriously things like this network outage hoo-haa.

So, Telecom is the antipodean Toyota. Bad luck if you've got a Prius XT but, beyond that, it's probably a damn good thing. Cellphones are stupid gizmos. They were only invented so self-important plonkers can walk through airports talking very loudly about things that don't matter.

No one answers their cellphone. You just get a message saying, ring the land line. And then you get another message saying, try the cellphone. The longer they're out, the better.

Unless ... unless you live in Sandringham (one of Auckland's suburbs). In which case, a cellphone could be quite handy quite soon. Be warned, Sandringham. The EE is putting kerbstones all along Vancouver Ave and, who knows, the rest of Auckland too.

Anguished calls will soon be flooding in to Super City HQ.

"I can't pay the rates."

"Why?"

"I'm dead."

"Dead?"

"Yes. I tripped over one of your new ornamental kerbstones and fell in the path of an oncoming Lord Mayoral motorcade, thus ensuring my demise. So I can't pay the rates."

"That's unacceptable, Super Citizen. A Super City needs every cent. We've got things to do, logos to design, slogans to write. Dead or alive, you'll have to pay."

Well, maybe not, deceased of Sandringham. Not if the Logo and Slogan Committee accept this proposal: a simple graphic of an ornamental kerbstone above the slogan, "Auckland. It's a trip".