This might be the best news we’ve seen all year.
“LET’S GET READY TO ROCK!” newsreader Simon Dallow cried just 12 minutes into last night’s 1News at Six bulletin. The newsreader may have been wearing a sensible suit and tie, but Metallica were in the country, and Dallow was thrilled. TVNZ’s graphics department had already done some spectacular work, sweeping the camera over a computer generated crowd and putting Dallow onto a heavy metal stage. “The puppet masters are here, metalheads!!!”
Ahead of the sold out concert at Eden Park, Dallow rattled off some impressive numbers: 55,000 fans were expected through the gates, while “25 trucks, 19 containers and half a plane of gear were all flown in”. 25 trucks on one plane? No wonder he was so excited. Then, as Dallow stood under a giant, glowing METALLICA sign, we crossed to a report from TVNZ’s “resident rocker” Simon Mercep.
Mercep began his story with footage of Metallica fans flowing into Eden Park earlier that day. They’d travelled from bogan hotspots around the country, including Gore, Balclutha and Tīmaru, and every single one was wearing a black Metallica T-shirt. The anticipation was palpable. “These fans are ready to ride the lightning,” the resident rocker told us. “It’s just good, head-banging music, isn’t it?” one fan said. “Loud. Very loud,” said another.
Then, because we can’t just have people enjoying nice things, we had to talk about the economy. The government wants more concerts at Eden Park, mostly so Chris Bishop can stand on the Beehive tiles and chuck as many Metallica song titles into his sound bites as possible. Everyone was benefiting from Metallica’s visit, it seemed, with Auckland accommodation booked out and fans spending money. Mercep stopped by a Metallica merchandise pop-up shop, where he was a green-shirted island amid a sea of bogan black. “Posters! Banners! Photographs! Cups!! Cup holders!!!” he cried. “Even a Metallica board game!!!!”
Cup holders may well be holding the New Zealand economy together right now, but the real metal magic hadn’t even started yet. Next, Dallow crossed live to Eden Park, where the resident rocker was now standing – still green-shirted, still frothing with excitement. The headline act weren’t due on stage for a few hours, but unassuming 1News viewers were about to watch an extraordinary show of their own.
It started with a cheeky wave or two. While Mercep told us about upcoming events at Eden Park, Metallica fans filtered into the stadium behind him. Some clocked the resident rocker and kept on walking, but others couldn’t believe their luck. They looked straight down the camera and gave a jaunty thumbs up. They crouched into shot and then tiptoed across to hide behind Mercep’s back, before popping their heads out again. Two women in black leather jackets walked arm-in-arm through the shot not once, not twice, but an impressive five times.
It was as if 55,000 New Zealanders had never seen a camera before. Mercep ploughed on, and just as he mentioned how friendly, enthusiastic and positive the crowd was, he was approached by the friendliest, most enthusiastic and positive fan of all. “How’s it going, bro?” the stranger asked Mercep, walking into shot and wrapping an arm around the journalist’s shoulder. Mercep grinned back, unaware that he was about to ride some lightning of his own.
“Ayyyyy….It’s fucking fantast-” the stranger blurted out. The air around Eden Park suddenly seemed to disappear. The dreaded F-bomb had been dropped, live on the 6pm news.
Resident Rocker and Swearing Man immediately knew things had gone too far. This was too friendly, too enthusiastic, too positive. The stranger apologised three times, while Mercep tried to pretend everything was fine. “Keep the language…very friendly…” he spluttered, gently pushing the stranger away while rapidly saying any words he could think of that related to concerts at Eden Park. But the stranger wasn’t done yet. As Mercep continued talking, the man yelled out some gibberish that sounded a lot like “Davedobbynist”, before his friends ushered him away.
This was the final straw. The camera closed in tightly on Mercep’s face, blocking the opportunity for any other friendly, enthusiastic, positive fan to offer their thoughts on the enduring legacy of Lament for the Numb. Mercep vowed to go to the merch shop and buy himself a nice black T-shirt, having survived this bogan paradise and such a spontaneous expression of happiness and joy, live on the telly.
Happiness! That’s the last thing you expect to see on the 6pm news these days. It was, indeed, fucking fantast-.
