Paul Thomas: Satire a game of chicken with single-issue zealots

The difference couldn't be more stark - Mike Hosking drives a white Ferrari, Jeremy Wells a 2004 Sportivo. Photo / Supplied

Sometimes it's hard to tell satire from reality. Since 1872 a pub in St Albans, north of London, that dates back to the 8th century, has gone by the name Ye Olde Fighting Cocks.

But now the animal rights group People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (Peta) is campaigning for a change of name - to Ye Olde Clever Cocks. Its spokeswoman says, "Changing the name would reflect today's rejection of needless violence and help to celebrate chickens as the intelligent, sensitive and social animals they are."

It sounds too good to be true, as if someone's having a laugh at the tree-hugging tendency. In fact, the story originated with a statement on the Peta website. Peta really wants to erase a little bit of social history to spare the feelings of any of its members - or chickens - who happen to be in St Albans and fancy a pint.

By the way, cockfighting has been banned in England since 1835.

Jonathan Swift's 1729 pamphlet A Modest Proposal for Preventing the Children of Poor People from being a Burden on their Parents or country, and for making them Beneficial to the Public argued that Ireland's poor should sell their babies to the rich as food: "A young healthy child well-nursed is, at a year old, a most delicious, nourishing and wholesome food, whether served roasted, baked or boiled and no doubt it will equally serve as a fricassee or a ragout."

The author of Gulliver's Travels was trying to draw attention to the political neglect that had led to widespread poverty and the elite's indifference to the resultant suffering, but many were outraged by his apparent advocacy of infanticide and cannibalism. In due course A Modest Proposal came to be seen as one of the finest examples of satirical writing in the English language.

Here we have Like Mike, a weekly spot on Radio Hauraki in which Jeremy Wells does his best to be mistaken for Mike Hosking.

It's hard to know what else Hauraki could do to alert listeners to the fact that Like Mike is a piss-take. The introduction points out that Hosking is number one in the ratings while Wells is number 12; Hosking drives a white Ferrari, Wells a 2004 Sportivo. In an attempt to close these gaps, management has encouraged Wells to be more like Mike.

Cue a stupendously self-satisfied right-wing rant delivered in tones uncannily close to Hosking's, such as this on gay Labour MP Grant Robertson: "[He's] the least convincing mincer I've ever seen. If you're going to be gay, be flamboyant, be toned, talk with a lisp. What sort of gay drinks beer and watches rugby? I prefer my gays to have Aids and listen to the Village People."

That one didn't seem to provoke outrage from Robertson or the gay community, presumably because they recognised it as satire and understood that the targets were Hosking's glibness, his attitudes and his audience.

But during Prince Harry's recent visit Wells went Like Mike on Maori: "Maoris are loose units. They're often tattooed. The women smoke too much and are free and easy with their affections. The world's media are watching us this week. As right-thinking New Zealanders we should be asking: is this the image we want to convey to the world?"

Some people didn't get the joke or, indeed, that it was a joke. The squawks of outrage posted on Hauraki's Facebook page amounted to a catch-22: it shouldn't have been aired because some people mightn't realise it's satire, and even those who do could still be deeply offended if they've experienced racism first-hand.

Race Relations Commissioner Dame Susan Devoy was on the squawkers' side: "Regardless of the intention, many people were offended by this and it clearly missed its mark."

That many people were offended - a questionable assertion - doesn't prove it missed its mark. You could just as well argue it proves Like Mike is too sophisticated for a section of its audience.

But even if both assertions are correct, so what? A coalition of dimwits and would-be thought police were offended. Who cares? Some funny, creative people treading a fine line didn't get it quite right. Better luck next time.

The good news is that satirists couldn't hope for a more target-rich environment than a society in which people condemn satire even when it's being deployed on their behalf and single-issue zealots want us to stop eating chickens and start appreciating their intelligence.