I’m parked outside Oak to Ocean and I’m not happy with myself right now. Chong will work for pretty much anyone, you name it. I’ll do Black Power s**t, doggies, Taffs, Nazis. But they’re homegrown. They’re South Island. Who the f**k do these Auckland cunts think they are, walking into Chong’s song?
The 88s aren’t payin’ me to be sentimental, but God this is hard. I like to upset the balance of power. I like to take orders from wrongdoers, then turn around and mash justice in their fuckin’ face. But these Head Hunters, man … they’re just a corporation. Big city bullshit.
There’s a receptionist and I tell her I’m here to see Blake-o, and she says, ‘Blake who?’ and I’m like, ‘Uh, I only know him as President Blake-o?’ and she sighs like she’s heard this one before and says I’m welcome to vi
