I don't like what I see

I'm off to see Jesus Christ Superstar tonight and I'm pretty excited, writes Sarah McCarthy in this week's Uptown Girl.

It's my favourite musical by far – I love the old 70s movie and have the soundtrack for luxing days – and can't wait to see if the show lives up to my expectations.

Of course, I'm not in it, so it won't be that good. I always fancied myself in the role of Judas, despite the fact that I am a girl, can't sing at all, not even a little bit, and they always seem to make Judas another tint than me.

However, I gather, from reading yet another batch of rabidly foaming letters to the editor in the paper this week, that I'll be going to see the show alone, because it was given a less than stellar review.

When I read all those letters and had a few conversations this week, I got my cross on, and was even crosser than I was at the person who phoned me three times today and hung up before I could lumber over to the telephone from the other side of the room, and even crosser again than I was at myself for not winning Lotto, so I could spend the remaining weeks of my confinement lying on a couch watching Geordie Shore, instead of having mad conversations with elderly gentlemen about why their granddaughters' overseas holidays aren't really that newsworthy.

You see, this blind parochialism is just so dangerous.

Are people really saying that we should say everything is A-OK and super neat-o just because it is made in Southland?

And then let people go and pay $50 a ticket?

That's bollocks – and mainly because this parochialism never, ever extends to this august and dear publication – we're always fair game when it comes to a bollocking, it would seem.

Surely supporting local endeavours means more than just paying lip service?

Blind, kind, insipid praise does nobody any good. Standards drop and then, before we know it, we're paying $50-odd for a ticket to something that would be easily blown away by the Rosedale Intermediate production of Sinbad the Sailor circa 1989 (slave girl No3 was particularly good).

I mean, it's fine to say that a school production was really good when we mean really good for a bunch of doongie kids who have been whipped into a frenzy by a dedicated band of underpaid teachers. But a professional show, asking the aforementioned $50-odd for a ticket, can't expect to be tarred with the same brush.

Does anyone think that our soon-to-invade Rugby World Cup visitors will be as kindly about our products and services as Southlanders expect?

No, they'll say: "Actually, that chocolate is quite disgusting", "Why am I paying $50-odd for a dozen of what appears to be some form of discharge with batter on it?" and "Gerry Forde should keep his top on".

That is all.

» Sarah McCarthy is a Southland Times staff member.

The Southland Times