t minus some minutes and too drunk to be counting.

But first, the rehearsal holiday. A lot like the rehearsal dinner for a wedding, except no dumb relatives to force conversation with. Only cool people! …to force conversation with. But Wellington! Hurrah!

The Beehive! That's how I knew I didn't accidentally end up in Palmerston North. If you look real close, you can see the strings that the CEOs of big NZ companies use to control John Key.

The monument to The Lone Ranger's horse Silver. It's a little known fact that he got his start as a member of the Maori Battalion. But after the war he spurned a simple life on a crappy war pension and swam to Hollywood.

The Tomb of the Unknown Zombie.

Aslan's more grumpy cousin. He doesn't like jam.

Syphilis Indian! Sorry, Syphilis Native American. How I've missed you!

Intercontinental bar! How I've missed you more. Sadly they no longer make Basin Reserves (think a bright green cocktail filled with every fruity liqueur known to fruity man, served in a glass as big as MOST PEOPLE'S heads. Infer what you will). No matter though, because the chocolate martinis were delicious.

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls of all ages...flee for your lives.