'Neighbours. Sure they're fine now, but what about when we're all living underwater?" asks Bill Kerton, presenting a premise more exciting than the one about to be retread more times than a farmer pacing a fence. In its 10th year, Neighbours at War returned last week, and set a pace as slow as rush hour in Owhango.
Neighbours at War is a reality series that settles petty suburban disputes in small New Zealand towns. From driveway debacles to pornography over the picket fence, the show provides a wildly public platform to air out this (sometimes literally) dirty laundry. But has it done its dash?
Last week we travelled to Owhango, a stagnated town with a snow gear shop, a normal shop, and nothing else but mild neighbourhood tension. Colin and Cindy are the complainants, annoyed by their neighbour Karen's obnoxious early morning singing, loud stereo blasting, and boundary fence invading. Sound like a boring dispute? You'd be right.
What has continuously saved this show from just being a form-filling council nightmare is the characters involved. The "classic cards" of the Kiwi television cannon. Karen fulfils this role, from her small red tricycle to her huge Bob Marley polar fleece. She's the New Zealand we still want more of: eccentric, unforgiving, and otherwise never on our TV screens in primetime.
"If she was a bloke, I'd probably hit her," Colin says furiously. Karen's just there to enjoy the tuis, pigeons, bush and semi-successful snow shop industry. She does quite a ropey impression of an Indian accent, and calls her next-door naggers "whinging poms". It's increasingly hard to get behind her as the plucky rural protagonist.
