Someone once threw me a small, brown, hairy kiwi fruit, and I threw a wastebasket over it until it was dead.
We live at the edge of the world, so we live on the edge. Kiwis will always sacrifice money and security for adventure and challenge.
I don't look like no kiwi bird
Tell people you're a Canadian or a Kiwi when you travel and they'll adore you.
The truth was I knew, after all those flat January days, that I deserved better. I deserved I love yous and kiwi fruits and warriors coming to my door, besotted with love. I deserved pictures of my face in a thousand expressions, and the warmth of a baby's kick beneath my hand. I deserved to grow, and to change, to become all the girls I could be over the course of my life, each one better than the last.
When the Kiwis ran onto the field we could see the poor bastards were shitting themselves.
Heaven, Kiwi thought, would be the reading room of a great library. But it would be private. Cozy. You wouldn't have to worry about some squeaky-shoed librarian turning the lights off on you or gauging your literacy by reading the names on your book spines, and there wouldn't be a single other patron. The whole place would hum with a library's peace, filtering softly over you like white bars of light.
I don't go for the nouvelle approach - serving a rabbit rump with coffee extract sauce and a slice of kiwi fruit.
I've watched Jamie Oliver 's Food Revolution, he wants better school lunches for children in the US and UK. In NZ, we want Kiwi kids to have school lunches!
I became the storyteller of South Side Chicago. I used an old Kiwi liquid shoe polish as a microphone. I'd go around the house interviewing everybody, telling stupid jokes, doing voices. I mimicked Sidney Poitier, Sammy Davis Jr., people on 'Laugh-In,' Flip Wilson.
Remember the look in the eyes of the Aussies and the Kiwis yesterday - I don't want to see that here.
The chattering bloody classes, or what I call the liberal Guardian readers, they're all buying SUVs to drive around London. I smile at these loons who drive their SUVs down to Sainsbury's and buy kiwi fruit, flown in from New Zealand for Christ sakes. They're the equivalent of environmental nuclear bombs!
Many of the Kiwis appearing in powerful business circles around the world come from accounting backgrounds. Yet often people have preset ideas of how an accountant walks, talks, smells - although not in the business community. For me it is a career that offers a lot of variety and challenges and I love it.
Not all introductions worked well. Rabbits were an unmitigated environmental disaster. Unchecked by any natural predator, they bred at a staggering rate and chewed their way across vast areas of pastureland as well as any garden that came their way. Attempts to control them by introducing ferrets, weasels and stoats did much more harm than good. Although these predators probably killed a reasonable number of rabbits, they also devastated populations of kiwi and raided the nests of flighted birds.
Barry Crump wrote a lot of books and they were really special. They were kind of the quintessential, mild for the most part, kind of southern man, kind of the true heart of what it meant to be a Kiwi kind of farmer; very kind of outdoor man living off the land. That kind of thing, you don't see so much anymore these days with everyone being metrosexual and lattes and laptops.
Is it just me, or did Tamou go to hug a Kiwi before realising he had just scored for Australia?
That was actually Lloyd Phillips who was a Kiwi film producer in L.A. And it was about Gorgeous George, not Haystacks Calhoun. I was in a couple of Lloyd's films and got approached to write the story. People don't realize it, but Gorgeous George had this flamboyant, camp stage persona that had a tremendous influence on other celebrities, like Elton John, Liberace, Elvis Presley, and Mohammed Ali, who all wanted to establish their own outlandish stage personas. The project died because Gorgeous George's wife refused to give up the rights.
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