Diary: John Gadsby

Let's all sing Happy Birthday F-16

By John Gadsby


Daily the white heat of the debate intensifies.

Do we get the F-16 fighter jets or not? Can we afford them? Can we afford not to? Can we lease them instead? Is it too late to back out of the deal? Was Max Bradford spanked too much as a child?

For that matter, is he getting spanked enough as an adult? If we don't get the jets are we about to have all the buttons ripped off our nice, new Apec jackets, and have our swords broken across that nice, new ambassador's knee, in a dawn ceremony outside the US Embassy in Wellington?

And just as the door of Anzus had creaked open a tad, as well. Just enough for us to see the light, feel the warmth, smell the roasting goodies and hear the seductive tinkle of ice cubes against crystal.

And now here we are about to be heaved out into the snow again. We've got a lot in common with the little match girl. No one wanted to buy her timber products either. How appropriate that Christmas Eve is so close.

It seems we're caught between a rock and a hard place, or more accurately between 27 American F-16s and three Australian frigates, neither and none of which we can afford.

And then it struck me yesterday, as the debate raged in public opinion columns and on talkback radio: aren't we forgetting an important date here?

If my memory serves me correctly, which it rarely does, I admit, but it does on this occasion, we are a whole year down the track from the time when the momentous decision was made to beg, buy, lease, borrow or steal the fighter jets in the first place.

This date deserves some recognition, I feel. This is after all, their first New Zealand birthday.

So instead of moaning and groaning, debating the rights, the wrongs and the maybes about the glorious F-16s which we haven't got yet, let us raise our voices in rapturous song to commemorate their arrival, or lack thereof. It's a week until Christmas, and I'm already heartily sick of hearing carols.

So next time the radio exhorts you to buy yet another bauble to the tune of Jingle Bells, turn it off and sing this instead, to the tune of Sweet Sixteen. From what I can gather, our new planes are about that old anyway, and probably overdue for a party.

La la la la la la la la la - Happy birthday, F-16.
La la la la la la la la la - Happy birthday, F-16.
This year's the year
We've waited for.
We've hardly got a Navy - any more.
It's turned into the prettiest fleet I've ever seen.
Happy birthday, F-16.
Though Anzus treaties
We may be mending.
It's hard to see what we will - be defending.
Our Army's 'armless and our Navy's looking lean.
Happy birthday, F-16.
We're supersonic - who needs a boat?
Go avionic - let's just hope that they can float.
Defence commitments
Now have a fair-show.
Our future strategy is - hold an air-show.
Watch where we're going.
Holy hell! Look where we've been.
Happy birthday, F-16.
Ain't' got a carrier - out on the sea.
That's not a barrier - to Kiwi ingenuity.
So stuff those frigates
Now that we're back to
Patrolling fishing boats at - speed of Mach 2.
We'll make a splash upon the international scene.
Happy landings, F-16.