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May 19, 2008 | by  | in Opinion |
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Historical Fightclub

Peter Fraser

Pistols at dawn? Rapiers at high noon? No, not for Peter Fraser. His weapon of choice is the mace, the Parliamentary Mace that is. 1.3 metres of sterling silver gilt with 18-carat gold makes for a pretty classy weapon. Brandishing this ultimate symbol of Parliamentary sovereignty, Fraser harks back to his Scottish ancestry and training as a carpenter. Remember Jesus was also Scottish and a carpenter, and was a pretty kick arse fighter too.

Tempered by hard time in Mount Eden prison (with the founder of the Killer Beez) for sedition, he came out a changed man: thirsty for blood (and scotch whisky) he spent most of his time working out his massive frame, sculpting his guns and perfecting his pecs.

Wary of his opponent’s neglected childhood, and the fact that Nash was Hutt trash, Fraser knows this guy is going to fight dirty. Raising the mace high above his head, face festooned in the blood of the worker, Fraser charges forth into battle.

Brian Talboys

Shrouded by the dark night, Brain Talboys – described by some New Zealand political scientists as the greatest Prime Minister New Zealand never had – body draped in blue velvet, appears swinging nunchucks and throwing shurikens. Kapow! Brian’s nun-chuck slams into Fraser’s throat, dislodging the plum that was stuck somewhere in his upper respiratory tract. “Take that you cheap slut!” Talboys howls in existential rage. Faced only with Walter Nash, Talboys plunges his fist into Nash’s chest and pulls out his still beating heart and proclaims: “Fucking bleeding hearts.” Nash crumbles and Talboys ritualistically feasts on the intestines of the two former Labour Prime Ministers, and salvages their tender flesh for fashioning a cardigan for casual wear.

Walter Nash

Let’s face it Fraser is a fucking pussy. He refused to fight in World War I. Nash would have no trouble laying waste to this simpering piece of seditious unpatriotic politician. Nash renounced his pacifism and admitted that war was a necessary and fun activity.

Being a tailor by trade, Nash is good with his hands, precise and deadly. He carries a lone katana which he named The Socialist Slasher. Crafted by Hattori Hanzo, the blade is perfectly balanced and as sharp as… something really really sharp.

With no qualms about fighting his old boss, Nash unsheathes The Socialist Slasher. It glistens in the moon light. Ahhhh Tranquillity before chaos. Hey ho lets go!

Post match discussion

PF: Well that was totally unexpected…
WN: Yeah… didn’t see that one coming
BT: NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM
WN: Gee whiz… I wasn’t a native Hutt boi. I just lived there
for a while. In fact, I hate the Hutt.
PF: Yeah fuck you, you turn coat git. Where did you get that
min as sword from?
BT: NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM
WN: I’m more worried about how you snuck the mace out of
the Speakers flat.
PF: Me and Margo go waaaaay back. Nudge nudge wink
wink.

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About the Author ()

The editor of this fine rag for 2009.

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