Where Is My Queen’s Birthday Honour?

I’m not sure of the appropriate salutation for one who holds your office. I considered addressing you as “Your Honours Honour” or “Your Worship”. I even wondered about “My liege”, or “Your Holiness”.

But then it occurred to me that, while you hold a distinguished and important position, you are still a public servant. I am your liege.

Forgive the diversion. I did not write this letter to muse over the appropriate title to give you. No, I am writing to tell you that a terrible mistake has been made.

I always pick up the Herald with some excitement on the Monday of Queen’s Birthday Weekend. Likewise in the New Year. On such occasions the paper publishes a long list of those who have attained honours, and I always look forward to seeing who is named.

But this Monday I expected to see another name on that list: mine. So where is it?

I’ve heard that before someone is honoured they’re approached to see if they will accept. I don’t know if that’s true, so when I didn’t get the call I thought nothing of it. I don’t know if being named is like being selected as an All Black. If so, I would have expected a call from the coach explaining why I’d missed out and which parts of my game I needed to work on.

I didn’t get any God-damned call (forgive me if I sound irate, but writing this is making me steam up), so I figured my title would be announced on Monday.

So imagine my surprise when I picked up the paper, only to find MY NAME MISSING!

At first I just dismissed it as an error by the Herald. But then I found the official honours list on the Internet, and my name wasn’t on that list either. Then I started to get mad. I’m still mad, and the more I write the madder I’m getting.

So what’s the story? Was this a deliberate snub? Are you trying to play games with me? Don’t you know who I am? IF YOU ARE TRYING TO F**K WITH ME I WILL MAKE YOU VERY SORRY!

Okay, so maybe there’s an innocent explanation. An administrative error perhaps. Although I’d expect you to take more care about the people you put on the list, I could understand you screwing up the Queens Service Medal list – after all, look at the number of nobodies on it. And who cares about that worthless award anyway? The same with all the Members of the New Zealand Order of Merit. At least you didn’t wilfully insult me by handing me one of those old bits of junk.

But when it comes to knighthoods and the Order of New Zealand, the really big awards, I’d expect some care taken with the list. I’m not saying I definitely should have been given membership of the Order of New Zealand, because that can probably wait until the New Years list. But surely a knighthood was in order. Instead you gave away a bunch of knighthoods to a pack of lousy do-gooders, plus some ancient guy who wouldn’t even know what a blog was.

And it’s not as if I don’t do lots for charity. Only last week someone was collecting money for some crappy charity, and I tried to donate but couldn’t, because the stupid woman couldn’t give me change, and I wasn’t going to waste an entire dollar on some bunch of loser kids.

But they also say charity begins at home. Which is why maybe one day, when I have the mansion I deserve in Herne Bay and a garage filled with expensive European cars, then I’ll worry more about the poor and their problems. Until then don’t bother me with their tedious tales of woe.

I suppose it’s also possible you haven’t heard of me. After all, they’ve done everything they can to shut me down,  because I’m the only thing standing between National and another term in office. My blogging skills are so feared in Wellington that they won’t even mention my name for fear of starting a panic through the city. I am the darkness they dare not name, which is why you won’t see me mentioned anywhere in the annals of power. So I suppose it’s entirely possible that you missed me off the list because you’d never heard my name before.

A simple mistake I can forgive, if the person who f**ked up comes clean and makes amends. But if this has been a deliberate snub then you and all who work for you will pay. Not with your lives, because words are the only weapons I use. But I can make those words so powerful you’ll wish you’d never crossed me.

So do the right thing. Get it done. Make me a knight or a member of the Order of New Zealand, and don’t even think about fobbing me off with anything less.

You have 24 hours.

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