A true Aucklander always has a backup plan

Text to an Auckland friend:
Just went to poetry group with that writer.
He’s nice,
but this awful guy who looked like an oompa loompa kept smoking
and saying fuck during readings!
Written on the back of a bus timetable while pissed at the Backbencher with
the writer and Matthew:
1. Jot down the line,
it’s less than fine.
2. The awful Friday night routine,
I’m just a fly in Vaseline.
3. I, MP, agree never to see G “Courtney Love” R ever again.
4. Next to you I’m not much,
so please excuse me for faking disease to please
on a nearly winter Wellington night.
5. I write your name in embarrassingly large letters in the Backbencher.
Texted romantic advice the following night from aunt RA (via Mum):
RA says find out if he dances.
If not don’t waste time on him.
Check he doesn’t take drugs.
RA asks does he tango.
RA says tramping club.
Hunks there if poet doesn’t dance.