Person Of The Year

Its that time of year when we reflect on who has influenced us over the last year.

Time magazine have come out with their annual person of the year issue and named Ebola workers as their choice. You will certainly get no disagreement out of me about their selection. Those working with Ebola patients are saints – no doubt about it. Given the risks to their own lives, their selfless acts of care put my own sense of giving where it belongs – somewhere in between “Africa is out of sight, out of mind” and “hey I’ve got rust in the Toyota to worry about”.

So good on you time Magazine.

Their feature got me thinking about my own small world and who would I choose as my person of the year. The obvious choice is of course my partner Mrs Alexander. Kind, loving and more glamorous than a disco ball, she is number one in my book. However, despite her obvious style and grace she disqualifies herself from person of the year contention because of her intimate relationship with me,the judge. (And by intimate I mean stuff that even the dog has to leave the room).

This leaves me with the rest of society and in particular New Zealand which constitutes the extent of my day to day world. I do try to get out of the place but the twin temptations of mountains and sea lure me back like a teenager to a mattress.

Being in a small country does somewhat limit my person of year options but as the German Shepherd says to the Chihuahua “despite your small size we can give this a go”.

First of all we can eliminate all politicians. This is obvious. Politicians are like toilets – we don’t really like them, but put up with their presence because without them we would have to crap in our own corner.

Secondly, we can’t even consider rich business people. The moment we heap praise on a wealthmuffin, they are arrested for embezzling their friends. It seems that getting rich requires a degree of dodgyness akin to a fox in charge of a chicken coup.

Thirdly we can ignore all sportspeople. Despite being emblazoned with our countries emblem, it transpires that they are playing not for us but for themselves and their teammates. We merely bask in their glory in a vicarious enactment of amplified metaphoric war.

So what are we left with? Musicians and TV personalities? Hmmm, same as for sportspeople. We love the idea that they selflessly do it for us but the truth is easily discovered if we try to get access to one of their parties.

So what about the unsung heroes. There is Lucy Knight who not only has an awesome name but came to the aid of an elderly woman being mugged and got a fractured skull for her troubles. A Good Samaritan no doubt.
Another contender is surely that Dr Osullivan fellow who qualifies on handsomeness alone.

However, I’m thinking that the person of the year should be someone we could be like. Someone who if we had the choice would invite round for a barbecue and amongst the satisfying sound of sizzling fat would whisper “I’m just like you”.

Using this criteria I think my shortlist looks something like this:

Kim Hill. Turning on National radio on a Saturday morning is like opening the fridge and discovering a plate of cold sausages. All other activities are displaced as Kim consumes and satisfies us.

Sam Hunt. Proof that you can defeat old age – he has always looked old and crumpled. Rough as guts and as un-PC as Henry the 8th at a feminist convention.

Annabel Langbein. Our own Nigella – minus the boobs, cocaine, and fuck me eyes. Annabel comes across even more wholesome than one of her pies.

Philip Smith. Fled to Brazil but caught faster than a hummingbird on a speed date. As a nation, Philip John Smith has kept us as humble – we can produce fuckwits just like any other country.

Roger Sutton. Our own Tiger Woods or Lance Armstrong. We thought he was so awesome but turns out he’s just like the rest. A timely reminder to never indulge in hero worship.

And the winner is……..In my humble opinion, my person of the year has to be Andrew Judd, the Mayor of New Plymouth. Let me explain.
Andrew has done something that is rare in politics. He has knowingly thrown away any chance of being re-elected on a matter of principle. By suggesting that Maori should have an ‘as of right’ seat on council he has alienated himself from most who voted him in. Whether you agree with Andrew’s stance or not (for what it’s worth, I do), you have to admire his principled position. It is rare for a pakeha to stick up for Maori at considerable personal cost.

Oh and by the way, like me, Andrew grew up in Masterton – must be a good bloke!

Richard Alexander Bain
Self confessed judge of others