Pardon My French
Last week, a young dark skinned man was over served potential fatal drugs and the resulting accident has been masked in a deepening cover up that is slowly being exposed.
In other news, Michael Jackson died.
But the real story comes out of Wellington, the capitol of New Zealand and we were there to witness it all.
Kimberly and I have been wanting to go to an All Blacks rugby match since we got here and when we saw they were to play France on the Noth Island, we immediately purchased the best tickets, slightly cheaper than the sky boxes.
France, as you all will recall, knocked the Kiwis out of the World Cup competition in 2007 partially due to a very bad call by the ref, Wayne Barnes. Now it was payback time and we wanted to witness the slaughter.
We flew up and had a nice room at a boutique apartment right in the center of town with a sweet view of the water and free parking. There was excitement in the air in addition to the pouring rain and ripping wind.
We bundled up, wearing 4 layers of long underwear and sweaters. Kimberly even donned a ski parka she purchased in Alaska. Getting to the venue, known as the "Cake-tin" was cheap and easy as the city has excellent public transportation.
After the national anthems and haka, the game commenced and was quite a spectacle. The crowd was a lot different than those you would see at USA football. Much more subdued, but still lots of drinking of beer. At the beginning, some French fans let loose on to the field a tri-colored rooster named Pepito . Apparently a cock is the symbol of the country. The SPCA is still investigating that one.
The rain and wind continued, but we, with our flash seats, were under cover and totally dry. NZ won in a close battle and home we went surrounded by happy kiwis and friendly fans of the French surrender monkeys. There were absolutely no negative comments between the two camps as everyone went into the city for more alcohol.
Imagine our shock when we awoke to the news the following morn.
Mathieu Bastareaud, a young French player, was said to have been beaten on the street outside his hotel. The perpetrators were 5 "South Pacific types, Maori or Samoan". The player required stitches to his face and was whisked back to France. Meanwhile, the mayor of Wellington was left to apologize to the world for the horrible behaviour of the denizens of his city and country.
Oh, the shame we felt.
A few days later, the truth started coming out. Mathieu now admitted he was excessively drunk and tripped in his hotel room cutting his face on a table. He offered up a lame apology to our country and his coach said sorry too and that he was just a naive 20 year old after all.
But that's not the end of the story. Today's news says that what actually happened was the enfant terrible was so drunk and aggressively stupid that one of his teammates punched him in his idiot face to convince him to straighten up. That's how he was cut....French Friendly Fire. And Bastareaud blames it on the peaceful New Zealanders. The players, coaches and team doctors were all in on the sabotage.
The denouement is that the lying bastard has currently being treated in an unnamed Paris facility due to severe psychological problems.
Something tells me his rugby days are over.
Adieu, bete noire.