Even the ones where genetically modified raptors develop emotional intelligence and Chris Pratt calms them down with a hand gesture like he’s telling off a Labrador.
And the lesson is always the same:
It starts with wonder: “We’ve brought back the moa!”
Then it’s, “The moa have breached the perimeter fence!”
And by sundown, you’re standing on a KFC picnic table, fending off a 6ft prehistoric chicken trying to find its dad’s DNA in your Zinger Burger.
Sir Peter, if you’re set on bringing back a mower, maybe start with the mighty Masport Iron Horse.
But Sir Peter’s passion for resurrection did get me thinking.
If we’re rummaging around in the fossil files, why stop at birds?
There’s a whole lineup of extinct Kiwi treasures that deserve a comeback.
Let’s kick off with a classic: A Dog’s Show.
I’m talking the proper one (sorry, Mark Leishman). And not a movie either (shout out to last week’s musings).
Sheep (usually as belligerent as a teenager). A dog (usually called Jess or Boss). And a paddock just outside Te Kūiti.
The formula was simple and magic: all the above and then add in a host in a Swanndri and that glorious theme music.
And now greyhound racing is on the chopping block, I say we get the TAB on the bandwagon.
“Ten bucks on Jess in the third trial at Te Rapa.” That’s a winner right there!
Then there was the Friday night video shop run. That sacred, fluorescent-lit pilgrimage.
You walked in full of hope and walked out with Home Alone 3 because Die Hard was already gone.
Life lesson one: disappointment builds character.
The Rolling Stones were right: you can’t always get what you want. (And yes, before you ask, Die Hard is definitely a Christmas movie.)
Video shops also taught us never to judge a movie by its cover.
That slick action-thriller cover turned out to be a Danish romance about a lonely locksmith named Søren. Lesson two right there.
And lesson three: laziness has consequences.
If you left your tape un-rewound, that was a $5 fine - a fine that had to be cleared before your VHS privileges were restored.
Or worse, a zealous video clerk cut your card up in front of you. A real power move.
Also, nothing quite says childhood confusion like standing in line as your parents returned Basic Instinct while you clutched The Brave Little Toaster.
And let’s bring back Velcro.
Invented by Nasa. Literally space tech. It was tomorrow, today. But somehow we consigned it to yesterday.
Velcro wallets were peak security, especially when a chain was added.
That rippp let everyone know when your wallet’s perimeter had been breached. Far superior to any alarm system.
Velcro shoes? Pure genius. Stick, press, run. The footwear of champions under 10. No stopping to retie a shoelace.
And don’t forget Velcro pants. Practical. Efficient. Tear ’em off after warm-up, and boom - game time.
But alas, the adult entertainment industry got its mitts on them, and suddenly you’re being judged by PTA mums. Maybe it was their guilt?
But here’s where we really need Sir Peter to put up his hobbit hand: snacks.
Snifters. Tangy Fruits. Zap. Whittaker’s Toffee Milks. Gone. Ghosted.
Vanished like, well … a snack that wasn’t properly hidden behind the “healthy treats” in the pantry.
You’d pick up a box of Tangy Fruits before the movie started, only to find they’d fused into a single citrus sugar brick. But you loved them anyway.
Snifters were minty hand grenades.
They gave you a sugar high and gum trauma in equal measure.
And then we had spaceman cigarettes. In the current climate, they are now spaceman candy sticks, and the orange tip has been extinguished.
While we’re rebooting things, how about the Commodore 64?
That beautiful beige beast.
It took 40 minutes to load a game, and then you waited to find out if the wait had been in vain when the message “Syntax Error” appeared.
But it taught us patience. Grit. The kind of skills you just don’t get from an iPad.
So maybe Sir Peter’s moa mission isn’t as mad as it sounds.
Maybe it’s a reminder - not to recreate the past, but to revive the best bits of it.
The things that made us smile. The things that shaped us.
The stuff that made growing up a little more fun - and a little more dangerous.
