Steve Braunias: The secret diary of ... the begging monk scam

A monk is taken away by Auckland police. Photo / Dean Purcell

David Warner
So there I was, minding my own business, not making any fuss of the fact I'm a batsman for the Australian cricket team, when this Asian bloke came up to me wearing orange robes and open-toed sandals, but he started yammering at me in a foreign language, so I said to him, "Mate, speak English."

Well, all of a sudden passersby stopped in their tracks, and craned their necks around, and they started saying to me, "Mate, we can't believe you just said that. What a racist thing to say. Shame on you, mate."

Well, I wasn't going to let them just walk all over me, so I said to them, "Look, this joker is talking to me in a language I can't understand, and all I'm trying to do is find out what it is he's saying. I'm actually just doing the polite thing here."

But they all climbed into me, and were saying, "Mate, you appear to be conforming to our lazy stereotypes of an Australian cricket player, which is to say you're coming across as a loud-mouthed moron, an aggressive thick-head, a drongo with convict tendencies. You must apologise."

But when I turned back to the bloke in the robes, he'd legged it. Vanished.

I wonder what he wanted.

Gareth Morgan
So there I was, sticking my big old snout into everyone's business, droning on about every subject under the sun, and generally doing all the things that a public intellectual should do except I'm a long way from being an intellectual but right up there with being public, when this Asian guy came to up me wearing orange robes and open-toed sandals, and he started asking me something, so I said to him, "Mate, speak te reo."

Well, that really confused him. It also attracted a crowd. I just happened to have a soapbox on me, so I stood up on it, and declaimed, "It's Waitangi Day again soon, and all of us ought to think pretty hard about what the Treaty means.

"We have a high level of ignorance about the document. We have a major job ahead of us to convince Pakeha that the job is not over."

The crowd began to head for the hills. I started talking louder, but they ran, and hid, and cowered.

I tuned back to the guy in the robes, but when he saw me open my mouth, he legged it. Vanished.

I wonder what he wanted.

Prince Andrew
One invariably minds one's business, but it's important to engage with the public, so when a sweet young Asiatic girl wearing sexy orange robes and cheeky open-toed sandals approached one, one made small talk by saying, "You're a pretty little thing. How old are you? 17? That's a lovely age.

"Do you have girlfriends the same age? I'd like to meet them. The more, the merrier, I say! Haw-haw!

"I notice you have your hand out. I don't carry cash; I find it soils the lining of one's pockets. In any case, Mr Epstein will make the necessary arrangements.

"In the meantime, may I just say what a pretty little hand you have! Smooth. Soft. But with nails that could leave an exciting scratch, I warrant! Haw-haw!

"Look how snugly your hand fits into my royal paw.

"Now, with your other hand, would you mind awfully taking this pen and signing this form which stipulates I had no contact with you?"

She refused, and I legged it. Vanished.

I wonder what's for dinner.

David Bain
Someone who looked like he might be a Buddhist monk came up to me on the street and asked for money.

I said, "I'm a bit strapped for cash at the moment. Come back later. I'm expecting a few funds."

I wonder if he really was a Buddhist monk.

I guess I'll never know.