The Secret Diary of ... Louis Crimp

Louis Crimp
Louis Crimp

Stephen Braunias takes a look at another secret diary in May Contain Facts.



Can't breathe.



Can't see or hear.

Yes, all things considered, it's pretty good living under a rock.

Someone kicked my rock and looked underneath it.

"I'm from the media," he said.

"Go away," I said.

"I understand you have controversial views about Maori," he said.

"Sit down and make yourself comfortable," I said.

Someone else kicked my rock and looked underneath it.

"I'm from the media," she said.

"You're a woman," I said.

A woman with breasts.

And legs.

Big legs.

And long breasts.

Or the other way around, these things can be difficult to tell.

She asked the usual questions ("Can you look into the camera and say something offensive about Maori?") and I gave her the usual answers ("Crime ... welfare ... blinkin' savages"), but the whole time I was wondering whether she had ever had sex underneath a rock.

I don't think I have. These things can be difficult to remember.

Unwanted media attention has forced me to move into a rest home.

"Everyone needs a rest from you," explained the matron.

A nurse tucked me into bed, and gave me a glass of water and a tablet. When I woke up, the room was dark.

"Nurse," I called.

But no-one came.

"Nurse," I called.

The room grew darker.

I phoned the media.

They didn't answer.

I phoned the ACT Party.

They hung up.

"Nurse," I whispered.

In the darkness I could see shapes, and hear inhuman noises – Maori! Maori, waving spears, sticking out their tongues, taking off their clothes, dancing, quite possibly fornicating!

Quietly, slowly, I lowered myself on to the floor and crawled under the bed, where I felt safe.

» Stephen Braunias is an award-winning writer and author of four books.

The Southland Times