MONDAY

I said, “I'm tired. My four feet can't walk another step.”

Lucretia said, “Oh, come on, Ratty! Just one more meeting and then we'll stop somewhere for a nice refreshing glass of Veuve Clicquot.”

I followed her into a Ponsonby Rd cafe. Even though it was raining, she asked for one of the tables on the footpath.

“Bless,” said the waiter, who threw his head back, and laughed, stupidly.

Lucretia ordered three glasses of Veuve Clicquot. “Bless,” said the waiter, who threw his head back, and laughed, stupidly.

I lit a cigarette, cupping the match against the rain. Lucretia stood up and kissed the cheek of a young man wearing a Crane Brothers suit and Karen Walker sunglasses.

She said, “Ratty, this is Bongo. He's a gossip columnist.”

I said, “Nice to meet you, Bongo. I've read so much about you.”

He took a sip from his glass of Veuve Clicquot, and then he threw his head back, and laughed, stupidly.

It was like everyone in Auckland was auditioning to be on The Ridges. I didn't even ask to be on the show. I just wandered into a house and there was Sally Ridge, who started screaming, and there was her daughter, Jaime Ridge, and she started screaming too, and a camera crew was recording everything, and I tried to get away, but they kept filming, and the director was screaming, “Oh god, this is so great!”

Next thing you know I've got an agent, Lucretia, who keeps telling me how hot I'm going to be when The Ridges makes its debut on Wednesday night, and drags me to meetings with advertising agencies, brand managers, media buyers, stylists, hairdressers, waxers, waners and colon irrigators.

Bongo was shouting to make himself heard over the rain. He was completely soaked. “You look like a drowned rat,” I said, but no-one got it. I lit another cigarette.

TUESDAY

“Bless,” said the waiter, who threw his head back, and laughed, stupidly.

Today's meeting was with New Zealand On Air.

They sent up a woman from Wellington. She claimed her name was Hine. She had short grey hair and wore a bone carving so heavy that she couldn't raise her face.

She said, “Why are we sitting at an outside table in the rain?”

Lucretia sighed, and said, “If you really must, we'll move inside with the nobodies, the losers, and the elderly.”

“I didn't order that,” said Hine, when three glasses of Veuve Clicquot arrived.

Lucretia drank two of the glasses, and said, “So tell us more about your plans to fund a series about the ups and downs of an indigenous species.”

Hine said, “Well, before we get into that, I just need to know one thing about Ratty. How much kiore does he have in him?”

“Aww he's got heaps, bro,” said Lucretia.

Hine stared at her. She looked very tired.

WEDNESDAY

Went to the star-studded premier and private screening of The Ridges at a downtown bar. Colin, Mathura, and Jeffree were all there. The Veuve Clicquot flowed. Sally laughed her head off. Jaime laughed her head off. Then they laughed each other's heads off, and it was time to go home.

In all the excitement we forgot to watch the show.

THURSDAY

The ratings are in. It's official: I stole the show, with many respondents saying that I came across as the most human.

Was on my way to celebrate over a few glasses of Veuve Clicquot with Lucretia, Bongo and the colon irrigator whose name I didn't catch, when Google Alert directed me to a page called Stuff Comments.

Good grief. I'm a rat. I know all about the use of anticoagulants in rat poison, and what it does, and how it kills. But I had no idea people could be so cruel.

FRIDAY

“Haters,” said Jaime, “love to hate.”

“If people have a problem with you,” said Sally, “it's their problem.”

We refilled our glasses of Veuve Clicquot, and drank a toast to each other. I threw the glass back. I threw my head back, felt the rain on my face, and laughed, probably stupidly, but who cares?

stephen11@xtra.co.nz

- © Fairfax NZ News