by Paul Henry
At one point, I noticed Rick had a paper bag on his desk.
‘What’s in there?’ I asked, and he took out a muffin which he carefully cut into eight pieces and shared among everyone there. We were all hungry.
There was a feeling around the table that something was happening that no one wanted to happen. Everyone was trying to snatch a little bit of victory from the jaws of defeat. In a negotiation like that, the two sides would normally be entirely at odds but there was so much common ground, and we walked out with the situation entirely resolved. We left the meeting with best wishes for each other. In fact I hugged Rick and he hugged me back, and I don’t get the feeling he’s a natural hugger.
My legal person is involved in matters like this every day and he said he had never experienced a situation where a group of people were negotiating the parting of the ways when they obviously got on so well and respected each other so much.
We left through an exit not normally open on the weekend, and I slipped away while Rick faced an onslaught from his own and other journalists. To be honest, having gladly stood by TVNZ for seven years, I was surprised and a little disappointed that they could only stand by me for a few hours. Such is life.
I left for Napier and had hit Tokoroa when the 6pm news went to air and a tsunami of calls started. A cameraman working on One News that night was the first to ring. He was a freelancer who worked on Breakfast, and he left an amazing message, almost in tears. The phone continued vibrating until it ran out of battery.
I got a text from Lucy: ‘I’m unbelievably proud of you, love Lucy.’ Bella sent me a slightly more pragmatic text: ‘As long as we’re going to be OK for money I’m cool with this.’ Sophie’s message was: ‘This is the only way a career like yours could end.’
John Key phoned me to check that I was okay. ‘I feel really bad about it,’ he said. ‘I know I shouldn’t and I don’t need to but I feel really bad about it and I hope you’re okay.’
‘John, what’s happened to me will happen to you,’ I said, ‘because whether you’re in politics or in the media, if you’re in front of people, your achievements are singular, your failures are cumulative and sooner or later the people who thought they were going to get you last time and didn’t will side with the people who want to get you this time, and the numbers will be against you.’
Although I had nothing but contempt for the people who were accusing me of being a racist when nothing could be further from the truth — I actually hold all races, genders, nationalities, sexualities, occupations and hobbies in equally low esteem — it is a nasty label to have flung at you. Even with a skin as thick as mine, it is not pleasant to be unable to turn on the radio or TV or open a newspaper without hearing that particular piece of misrepresentation.
There were, however, occasional compensations. One of these took place when I was test driving an Aston Martin for a magazine. Obviously this was during a time when I was trying to keep a low profile.
One of the keys to being a successful test driver is to keep the gas low because you don’t want to be returning the car full of petrol that you’ve paid for. Sophie was with me when we needed to put $5 worth in the tank and pulled into a service station in Onehunga. Why we were in Onehunga I have no idea.
Sophie was cowering down in her seat long before we stopped. She predicted correctly that when we did heads would turn at the sight of this beautiful car. It was a bonus when people realised the Aston Martin contained me. It quickly became obvious that at least 90 per cent of the people on the forecourt and 100 per cent of the people inside were Indians.
Unusually for a service station, this one provided service, and one of the staff approached me. ‘Oh, Mr Henry, can I help you?’ he said. And that was awkward because I have a small quirk when it comes to service stations, which is that I like to do everything myself because then you know it has been done properly. I have had a couple of instances a long time ago where expensive cars have been slightly scratched, not on purpose but because other people are never as careful as you. My problem was that if I said no he might take it as yet more proof of my notorious racist attitudes, especially when it came to Indians.
However, since this was a very expensive car, obviously brand new and not mine, I took the risk of damaging my reputation and declined his offer. Then I went inside where there were two people serving at the counter and two lines of customers, all of them, so far as I could tell, Indian. Finally, after what seemed like an inordinate amount of time standing there waiting to pay, I got to the head of the line.
‘Can I just say, Mr Henry,’ said the attendant, ‘that it is a real sadness in our household that we can’t wake up to you in the mornings and I feel ashamed for what’s happened to you.’
And when he said that, it was as though everyone there had been given permission, and suddenly they were all saying how sorry they were and that they hoped what had happened hadn’t in any way tarnished my feelings towards Indians.
It was very nice to hear, and it was also nice to have a chance to make the point if only to a select few that the whole fuss was about other people’s prejudices, certainly not mine.
And very soon, the job offers started to come in. Tristram European, the VW dealer that I use, offered me a job as a car groomer and went so far as to guarantee me minimum wage before our negotiations even started.
There were calls from media organisations too. I wondered how they had come up with ideas so quickly. Had they known for months this was going to happen to me?
TV3, Radio Live, Newstalk ZB and so many others all contacted me. Some had firm offers; others sensed I was in no hurry and merely wanted to let me know that when I was ready to talk they would be ready to talk. The door at TVNZ too, it was quite clear, was pushed closed but certainly had not been locked or slammed. In talking to all those people I never got as far as asking what the hours would be or what the job would pay because this was like selling a roof — once I asked the price, the deal would have been as good as done.
I saw it as a great opportunity to spend a bit more time with the children and just live, to do stuff, to travel to places without being followed around by a film crew. I’m a traveller, both in mind and body, certainly in my business and in my goals and my aspirations. I don’t look at anything as long term. When opportunities come up I take them or I move on to something else. When it became obvious I needed to leave TVNZ I was ready to leave, and then all of a sudden the excitement began. Did anyone really think I was going to stay on Breakfast for the rest of my life?
When I had toyed with the idea of leaving previously, people asked whether I wouldn’t get bored and that had been one of the things that stopped me, because there is no way of knowing the answer to that until it happens.
‘Won’t you miss being a star?’ was the other thing I used to get asked. That was much easier to answer. I’m not a star. Stars are visible, whereas I am a hermit and always have been. I don’t like going out so I don’t. At the same time I don’t moan about being recognised. It’s nice not to be and I enjoy that about being overseas, but you know when you go into television that it is part of the job. You even get paid extra to compensate for it and so you should.
There are good things about fame too. You often get better service from cringing toadies in restaurants. You also get bad service sometimes from people who have decided they know and despise you. You get free stuff, which is hardly ever anything you want. You get invited to events you would never dream of attending. All in all I knew I wouldn’t miss being a star and getting all the benefits I didn’t cash in anyway.
Once my hand was forced, those questions ceased to matter. Instead of boredom there was huge relief that I could move on with my life. A lot of time was spent mopping up — fielding job offers and ducking for cover. The Herald rang all the time. I never replied to their messages and if I picked up the phone by accident and it was them, I refused to say anything. So they ran stories suggesting I was desperate to have my say. I refused all inte
rviews except for a story with New Idea, which was one of the few magazines not to have completely annoyed me with things they wrote over the years.
I was approached by an American production company who, unbeknownst to me, had been following my career for several years on YouTube. I had come to their attention originally via a Breakfast diatribe about obese Americans being sucked into Amtrak toilets. They had some programme ideas and wanted to represent me in what they considered, and at the time of writing still consider, my future career on television in the United States.
Since becoming unemployed I’ve spent many months in the US. I’ve always loved America and Bella does too. I bought a brand new 2011 Mustang which I keep at LA airport. I have had a lot of fun driving through umpteen of the states. Bella is on exchange in Colby, Kansas, for a year and this has tied in nicely with going to see her. I’ve had more studio executive meetings than a person of my short attention span can reasonably be expected to suffer and I’m told by my agents, production company and manager that my career — though non-existent — is stellar.
I confess to losing almost all of my interest in working in the States given the amount of time it’s taking for something to happen, which in the great scheme of things is no time at all, but if I’ve learnt anything from all of this it’s that I need to work. I could retire but couldn’t stand it. I need an outlet. Frequently I find myself thinking people need to hear my views on various subjects and I need to have them heard.
I have been putting off giving a definitive answer either to TVNZ or Mediaworks, who own TV3 and Radio Live, but recently decided it was not necessary to put it off any more so entered serious negotiations with both organisations. It’s clear many people in TVNZ understood that my ability to be occasionally a liability was dramatically overshadowed by my ability to be an asset, and to their credit they wanted me back. But the approaches from Mediaworks’ bosses and even the board chairman were consistently considerate, respectful and professional, and I signed a long-term commitment ensuring that when I’m broadcasting in New Zealand it will be with their organisations only. First up, the plan is I will be hosting the drive-time talk show on Radio Live, which means I get to go back to doing the kind of broadcasting I prefer to any other. My expectation is that I will appear regularly on TV3. I’m in discussions at the moment involving a range of projects, but I would like to think that at some point I’ll have a weekly talk show.
But, as I put my pen down, (actually it’s an iPad — dammit) sitting in the home I love in Albany, Auckland, surrounded by the knick-knacks and general detritus I’ve collected over the past 50 years, it is only my expectation.
Because you see, we’re up to now. How much work I will actually be doing in the United States, exactly what I will actually be doing on TV3 and everything else that’s going to happen is not entirely clear to me at this time. It will have to be part of my next book if I ever find the heartbeats to write again.
Some people might be a little disappointed that I haven’t mercilessly slagged off the arseholes who have thwarted me over the years. After all, I am a particularly forthright person. In the last few pages alone I could have named some people I consider to be gutless wonders at Television New Zealand who don’t understand, amongst other things, the meaning of loyalty. But the thing is this, I am not even remotely bitter about anything that has ever happened to me. I can’t remember a time in my entire life when I haven’t been ready to move on. So, no bitterness and only a few regrets, none of them relating to employment.
Partly for obvious reasons but also because these memoirs reveal only a few squares of the rich tapestry that is my life it’s impossible for me to put myself in the position of someone reading this for the first time. But if I try very hard to do just that, I think I would want the book to end … now.
So, the book’s finished and I think we can all agree it represents fantastic value for money. But wait, there’s more. There’s no need to continue reading because this truly is bonus material, without which you could still be reasonably expected to lead a full and satisfying life. However, I have decided, as a personal gift to you, to add one further useful piece of material. For this to work satisfactorily it is necessary for me to divide readers into two categories:
Those who like me.
Those who do not.
I love trawling through antique shops and I have to say the Americans do antique shops very well. I prefer to refer to them as junk shops as this increases my sense that there may well be a bargain to be had. On a recent visit to a junk shop at Redondo Beach, LA, I spotted a large crusty old rat-gnawed book: the personal recipes, favourite restaurants and general lifestyle tips of Mary and Vincent Price. For as long as I can remember I’ve been a huge fan of Vincent Price and the book, through words and pictures, took me right into his wonderful personal life. Like me, he loved sophistication and style, unlike me he was actually sophisticated and stylish.
So, ‘for those who like me’ … from Vincent and Mary Price’s own book, their favourite, quite simple napkin folds and how to achieve them, so you might add just a little more style and sophistication to your own life.
Fold napkins into quarters, then diagonally.
Pleat before pulling flat side into napkin ring.
Turn two leaves back, pleat, place flat side in glass then pull down two outside leaves.
Pleat, place flat side in glass then pull down four leaves.
For those who don’t like me
For the benefit of those few thousand people who over the years have felt it their duty to save others from me, I have taken the time to pen a general letter of complaint for possible future transgressions. You will be required to cut along the dotted line (possibly devaluing the book), sign and post.
To the chair of the Broadcasting Standards Complaints Authority
Dear Sir/Madam
It is with deep regret and some trepidation that I read in Paul Henry’s nasty little book that he may once again be broadcasting in New Zealand. I wish to register my heartfelt disgust and complain bitterly in advance in the hope that you may in some way be able to stop him from insulting, offending and ridiculing innocent human beings who unknowingly require my help to protect themselves from him.
It should not be relevant that I complain about things that have not yet happened, as I have in the past complained to you about things Paul Henry has done that I have never seen. I have on more than one occasion enthusiastically hunted out replays of Mr Henry’s offensive behaviour with the express purpose of becoming further outraged, and have never been disappointed. The fact that I watch these entirely out of context is also irrelevant. Mr Henry’s
arrogance and intolerance has no place in the media; tolerance of all peoples should be promoted at all times and Mr Henry and his kind should be forced off air.
Freedom of speech should not be used as an excuse for people to say what they think. For many people like myself, whose senses of humour are at best woefully underdeveloped, the thought that some find him humorous is insufferably irritating.
If, as a result of your failure to act on this serious complaint, I am forced once again to be outraged by Mr Henry’s quick-witted observational humour, I will hold you personally responsible and will immediately alert as many of my acquaintances as possible to the need for them to also become outraged.
You must understand I am completely incapable of switching channels or turning anything off, particularly when I find it offensive.
I await your swift response,
(insert name)
(insert address)
Copyright
A RANDOM HOUSE BOOK published by Random House New Zealand 18 Poland Road, Glenfield, Auckland, New Zealand
For more information about our titles go to www.randomhouse.co.nz
A catalogue record for this book is available from the National Library of New Zealand
Random House New Zealand is part of the Random House Group New York London Sydney Auckland Delhi Johannesburg<
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First published 2011
© 2011 Paul Henry
The moral rights of the author have been asserted
ISBN 978 1 86979 567 2
This book is copyright. Except for the purposes of fair reviewing no part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Cover design: Paul Henry and Carla Sy
Cover photographs: Jane Ussher
Text design: Carla Sy
Printed in New Zealand by Printlink
