With parliamentary banter the likes of which the world heard from my fellow countryman Gerry Brownlee recently, it’s safe to say that nobody is likely to accuse him of being a gentleman any time soon. But despite having created more of an uproar than an underarm bowl in a tight one-dayer (well, almost as much of an uproar), I have to admit that his rustic eloquence did make me a little homesick, and trigger a deep yearning for a dose of that rollicking slander that only a Kiwi knows how to administer. Admittedly the Aussies enjoy a distinguished place in the genre, so I must give a nod to them, but this unique, benevolent abuse is something the Kiwi is specialised in.
It was not until I left New Zealand that I realised just how localised antipodean language and humour is. Fortunately I have had the opportunity to learn from the mistakes of others, and the memory of a young Kiwi companion in the UK threatened with violence for a badly chosen remark has stuck with me. I realised then that you just can’t address an Englishman as you might another Kiwi. They simply don’t understand. At the time I noticed nothing amiss in the conversation, and it was only when I heard the heavy-set Brit demand an explanation for the term that had just been applied to him, that I suspected something had gone wrong. Perhaps one of Grice’s conversational maxims had been violated? At any rate, because of his language, my companion was the one who was in danger of being violated, but luckily it didn’t get that far. The offending word was one that many consider to be among the crudest in the English language, but in New Zealand – when used correctly – is a term of endearment that promotes male bonding.
This example serves as a reminder that in all parts of the English speaking world, the language is used in different ways. In saying all this, I am not trying to defend Brownlee’s derogatory comments; someone in his line of work really should have known better, and he fully deserves the wrath of the Finnish people. Observations of that nature might be appropriate for the pub, rugby club, supermarket or classroom in New Zealand, but I’m surprised the alarm bells didn’t start ringing as he was preparing his spiel in front of the mirror at home. Brownlee, like my friend mentioned above, simply made the classic mistake of thinking others will ‘get it’ – if indeed he even thought about it at all.
He doesn’t seem to be a man who takes himself too seriously; rather he comes across as someone who can take the knocks as well as he can dish them out. Some weeks before the Finland comments, New Zealand First party leader Winston Peters was ordered to leave the debating chambers after calling Brownlee an ‘illiterate woodwork teacher’, in retaliation to an earlier insult from Brownlee. So this type of friendly mudslinging is something he does well, and as I have pointed out, it’s common in many sectors of New Zealand society, and is generally not taken to heart. What’s amusing about this is that calling another MP an illiterate woodwork teacher (he is actually a former woodwork teacher) is grounds for dismissal from the session, but implying that an entire nation is a bunch of economically dysfunctional misogynistic murderers seems quite fine! Anyway, it’s all done in the nicest possible way, of course.
Paul Rickman
Plural Blog 