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So the Kiwis in Alinghi are getting a hard time from the Kiwis in Valencia. But are the Kiwis in New York giving Kiwi duo Flight of the Conchords a hard time for making a TV show with the HBO network in the United States?
Let's hope not. We should all be buying figurines of Jemaine Clement and Bret McKenzie. Their show premiered in the US on Sunday night to mostly great reviews. Which is a relief. We've been laughing at their droll chemistry and deadpan ditties for years, but there was no guarantee it would cross over - particularly given their stoic, dry-to-the-point-of-chafing humour that name-checks the mother country at every chance it gets.
The good folk at Prime TV have long recognised the comedic and musical talents of the Conchords and will screen the show later this year. By then, no doubt, Clement and McKenzie will be big stars. Already, say people living in the Big Apple, the underground is plastered with posters of their faces.
Yet last week a programmer at TVNZ - the same network that nixed plans to make a show out of the Conchords' comedy routine a few years ago - confessed to knowing nothing about it.
In another telling twist, the Conchords have taken over The Sopranos' old HBO slot just as our state broadcaster resumes the second half of the series here.
Speaking of Kiwis making it in the US, the other night I saw a preview screening of Knocked Up, the hilarious movie by the guy who directed 40-year-old Virgin, when whose song should pop up in a nightclub scene but Savage's Swing. I don't think the novelty of seeing or hearing our own on the world stage will ever wear off - and nor should it, even if the film's star was dancing to it while almost paralytic.
That wasn't the only funny entertaining moment of the week. There was the fascinating 20/20 report on men who can't get girlfriends so have relationships with dolls. And the Checks gig that I didn't make it to but still experienced, thanks to the support act performing an acoustic version as they packed their equipment into their car outside my bedroom window.
Then there was the ballet I took my mum to on Sunday, which brought back memories of my contribution to Swan Lake as a child. A piece of pirouetting seaweed springs to mind.
But the highlight was the real-life drama unfolding in the dark corner of a club on Saturday night. A Chick Bar Fight. An object was hiffed at high speed across a toppled table. Broken glass lay on the floor. Then everyone in that booth were on their feet, as a pretty girl with fast-moving elbows threw fists and swearwords at another girl, while everyone yelled and swore. One girl cried. It was all very exciting. The barman tried to break things up, and a bouncer removed from the bar the punch-thrower - who, as it happened, was wearing exquisite shoes. I sent a text to a friend who was at the other end of the bar to express my appreciation of this impromptu entertainment moment, which is really quite mature.
There's nothing like a bit of conflict for entertainment, but only if you're not in the thick of it yourself. Celebrities in conflict will always prove difficult not to watch.
That's why we've all been whispering like lunatics about Millie Holmes. While her dad was Michael Jacksoning his way around a Wellington dancefloor, daughter was doing the TV show Deal or No Deal, followed, allegedly, by Deal of the Century.
As the Kiwi way of life continues to emulate the American way, this will probably be followed by rehab, and if all goes well, a modelling career and perfume brand boosted by her bad-girl rep. Then again, we're probably not as forgiving as the Americans.
