Me and my entourage arrived at the Auckland District Court this morning for another chapter in the book thrown at me by the combined forces of the American government, the FBI, the CIA, the Pentagon, Hollywood, and my nemesis, John Key, who will not rest until he sees me in jail, but I will not rest until I see him in hell, so neither of us are getting much rest at the moment.
It was the usual scene. I have one man to open the car door and another man to close it. But he closed it before I got out of the car, so we had to get the first man back again so he could open the door.
We made a few calls. No one could find him. I never had this problem when I lived in Hong Kong. What is it with New Zealanders?
I phoned my lawyer, Ron Mansfield.
He said, "I can see you. I'm in front of the court."
I told him, "Well, why are you just standing there? Can't you see I'm trapped in a machine?"
He said, "Yes, indeed, what you're going through is a terrible abuse of your civil liberties and my team will stop at nothing to invoice you."
I told him, "Just get the door."
By the time I got to the courtroom, the judge decided I wasn't a flight risk.
Fantastic day. I achieved two great things.
First, I downloaded the new Call of Duty: Advanced Warfare game, featuring new weapon balancing adjustments, spawn improvements, connectivity optimisations and other things of vast importance to the way I live my life.
It was pleasing to note that they have fixed issues such as not being able to kill the care package drone.
It'd been bugging me for a while that I wasn't able to kill the care package drone.
I tried my best to kill the care package drone, and although I didn't obsess about not being able to kill the care package drone, I once stayed awake for six days in my efforts to kill the care package drone, which I nicknamed John.
It was also pleasing to play the game while wearing an ornate set of armour which the manufacturer's only give to the world's very best players. It feels a bit hot in there at times but I got used to it after I repeatedly killed good old John the care package drone from 4am until midnight.
Then I spent five minutes launching the Internet Party as a serious political force in the United States, and went to bed.
Took the kids to the beach. It's what I love about New Zealand. I can be just another separated parent watching his kids frolic in the water while I sit on the sand dreading the moment when I have to say bye-bye see you later.
Mona phoned tonight. There was loud, terrible music in the background. She said she couldn't confirm rumours that she was partying with John Key's son Max and his DJ group Troskey. I told her that his music sucked, but my album Good Times was the fifth most streamed New Zealand album on Spotify in 2014. She said that reminded her, could I please send her more money, it was her turn to buy a round for Max and his DJ band Troskey.
Home alone. You just can't get a good entourage these days.
I walked around the house, and looked at the tropical fish. I walked to the upstairs balcony, and looked at the giraffe sculpture. But I still felt lonely.
I walked downstairs, and sat in the pool.
I couldn't get out. I knew I should have taken off the ornate set of armour.
I reached for my phone. I was about to call for help when a text arrived. It was from a blocked number. It read, "Lol u look stuck m8 hahahaha." I hacked into it, and phoned the number. A voice said, "JK here. That you, Cam?"