A “Southern Man” writes a Southland Times column about visiting Wellington

Mate: Wowing the Capital

It's not often that I find myself in the Capital twice in one year let alone write two columns about it, writes Mark Wilson in this week's Mate.

The Southland Times | 5:00AM - Saturday, 10 October 2009

Poor readers down south have to hear about the North Island enough with bus strikes, gunmen on the loose and MPs handing out the odd favour for some tiling work, now we have to listen to Mark waffle on about his trips up there.

To make my frequenting across the strait a little more acceptable it did involve taking in the Stags clash with Wellington but to then let myself down as a Southland male it also involved a trip to the World of Wearable Arts show (WOW).

As any good southern bloke knows the only fashion shows acceptable of our attendance involve animals being purchased for the farm or horses for the track parading around showing their wears with the winners attracting the highest price at sale.

However, I was under duress — surprise, surprise — from a female with the possible alternative to going along being a cold night on the couch.

The evening started with a nervous flutter as I couldn't catch a glimpse of Speight's in the fridge. However, on closer inspection, after clearing a few drops of sweat from my eyes borne as a result of being around too many scantily clad females, I managed to navigate my way to a Speight's Summit Larger or two which I hoped would take the edge off any activities that were a little overly cultural for me.

Despite having to be poked twice and encouraged not to go to sleep ... my eyes were just sore from the flashing lights!

I managed to get through the show and even avoided being interfered with by topless male dancers in silver hot pants, who invaded the crowd and started interacting way too closely with some.

The costumes were quite interesting to say the least and you wonder at times what the designers must have been thinking to come up with such whacky outfits. The odd one didn't quite measure up to the G rating guide for acceptable levels of flesh to be seen in public and this had me on the hunt like a Where's Wally book for a wardrobe malfunction akin to the Janet Jackson super bowl incident.

Despite wearing out my retina and a few false alarms which involved me nearly poking the guy in front of me in the head, there was not a nipple to be seen but plenty of close calls and ample leg and cleavage kept the males in the crowd entertained.

The poor wives always think their husband goes to appreciate the art — like hell he does!

As the evening progressed I managed to offend a few upper-class citizens at a fancy bar who thought that French champagne was an acceptable substitute for Speight's and I think by the end of my trip my host was wondering what type of inbred she had invited.

I had fun but I don't think the Capital had too much fun having me.

• Mark Wilson is a true southern man who took on the job of escorting a Speight's Ale House during a 10-week voyage to London in 2007.

http://www.stuff.co.nz/southland-times/columns/mate/2949634/Wowing-the-Capital