Out Of My Head
Men are still expected to swallow their pain, but just because we don’t parade our emotions like some genders, that doesn’t mean they don’t exist. We’re trying to be more inclusive, and so I’ve received permission to release a few rough notes taken at the latest meeting . . .
Chairman Tim welcomed a full hall and congratulated members on lifting the profile of men recently, despite political and media bias.
General business: Brother Sebastian reported that the petition to extend the shorts-wearing season to year-round was gaining traction. Snide remarks about hairy legs had declined, and street marches by Free the Knees activists were altering public perceptions.
‘‘God knows we admire colleagues who tough it out through winter – and I tip my hat to you tradies – but watch those frostbite symptoms, and if your voice goes up an octave, get to A&E sharpish.’’
A subcommittee of Br Neville (Master Plumber) and Br Paul (Master Builder) reported mixed success in efforts to neutralise loose-cannon taps in public toilets.
If only biased ‘‘home’’ magazines devoted less space to the splashback and more space to a ‘‘splashforward’’, the world would be a safer place, Br Paul joked as an icebreaker.
Br George interjected from the floor that this was no laughing matter. Just last Saturday he had done the necessary at the Superloo in Montgomery Square, fronted up to the sink, flicked on the tap – and whoosh . . . blasted in the crotch by a torrent of water.
‘‘Code Red in humiliation, Mr Chairman,’’ said George, as heads nodded around him. ‘‘No-one will assume it’s water. What do I do? I had no jacket or bag to cover the damage.
‘‘I ended up dabbing the blotches with toilet paper, then standing on tiptoes and jamming my hands into the dryer to divert warm air to the affected area. It was a full 15 minutes before I could return to the market.’’
Br Paul explained that he meant no offence. Their experiments were diligent, but don’t expect a quick fix. It wasn’t as simple as reducing the water pressure.
New sink designs were being trialled. ‘‘Bolt-on’’ deflectors had compromised hygiene, and donning a plastic apron invoked similar germ issues with the tie-ons. Br Aaron suggested velco strips on belts so that a waterproof defence shield – ‘‘I’m not comfortable with the word ‘apron’, Mr Chairman’’ – could be attached hygienically, and returned to a wall bracket for the next client. Br Nev said they would investigate.
Br Stefan queried whether women’s restrooms suffered from the same fault. Chairman Tim said he would sound out representatives at the next intergender summit meeting.
Tim reminded members of next week’s ‘‘factfinding’’ mission to the toilets at the new airport terminal in Nelson. ‘‘Not that you need reminding,’’ he said, to general laughter. ‘‘We’ve hired extra buses to meet demand.
‘‘Those Dysons are sexy beasts,’’ he added. ‘‘Water in the middle, air jets on the ‘wings’ – once you’ve learnt to fly them, ooooh, mercy, they’re hot stuff. You may need to use the cold showers afterwards.’’
When the mirth subsided, Br Nathan suggested taking a basketball for a ‘‘flash mob’’ game in the hall.
Tim announced that another session of the What Women Want lecture had been scheduled in light of an embarrassing no-show at the last one. ‘‘OK, I accept that some of you got the venue wrong, and the day wrong, but it’s still not a good look.’’
Br Wayne said the meeting clashed with pre-preseason, warm-up friendlies for Super Rugby, and could facilitators pay more attention to the sporting calendar in future.
Br Tony, of the Boomers subchapter, regaled members with an audio-visual of his recent cruise ship holiday.
‘‘More than 800 cabins, gentlemen, and every one with an over-water balcony for cocktails. Megascreen TV, all-you-can-eat buffets, karaoke nights, an e-bike circuit around the deck, and state-of-theart stabilisers. I never felt queasy once.’’
Tony explained that the Supreme Empress of the Oceans had finally conquered that bugbear of cruising, seasickness, by not leaving the Auckland wharf at all for the entire 10 days. Videos of exotic harbours were played on the giant screen each evening, after Happy Hour and before the art auctions.
Filipina crew members dressed in sarongs sprayed tropical air freshener and mingled with passengers to sell wooden handicrafts (SuperGold discount).
‘‘The overall effect was breathtaking – and no mosquitoes, no sticky heat, no ‘rummy tummy’. Mavis and I were transported to another world. Highly recommended.’’
Tony offered to circulate hi-res pictures of the stabilisers by email.
Br Anton, of the Hipster Beer Nerds sub-branch, reported that Br Ollie was recovering well from the broken ankle suffered when he tripped over his own beard, and the resulting trauma of medical staff cutting his stovepipes and brown brogues to treat the injury. Members passed the hat (cheesecutter) for replacement attire.
Br ‘‘Snake’’, aka Nigel, of the Harley Owners Group, reiterated calls to pressure the Government for a full public education campaign about the danger of beards tangling in bootlaces. ‘‘We’ve got political legs, and we know how to use them,’’ he proclaimed, punching the air.
After a stirring rendition of the Club Anthem, Everybody Hurts, Chairman Tim wrapped up formal proceedings and invited members to stay for the bring-a-plate supper, with vegan, dairy-and glutenfree options in the sausage rolls.
The petition to extend the shortswearing season to year-round was gaining traction. Snide remarks about hairy legs had declined, and street marches by Free the Knees activists were altering public perceptions.