TV Review: My Kind of Place

My Kind of Place's passage of humiliation should turn our exodus to Oz around. Photo / Supplied

Is my tray table stowed and my seatback upright? Oh, what's that? I'm not on a plane. Oops, I just blacked out for a minute and woke up in a puddle of dribble when I heard "Gidday. Well, today we're off to Ilawarra", followed shortly after by "So here we are in Woollongong".

The new series, My Kind of Place, débuting Saturday on TV One, is bog-standard Australian airline TV. But for some inexplicable reason it seems to have touched down in our primetime terrestrial schedule.

Why? I see dark forces at work. And I am frankly rather dubious about the geo-political implications. What damage will this do to our already fragile CER agreement?

Australians seem to have nicked our best celebs, even ones usually known for their passionate advocacy of all things Newzild, and given them jammy holidays in Australia to pimp the virtues of going across the ditch.

In each episode, a famous Kiwi visits "their kind of place" in Australia: Robyn Malcolm goes to an eco-retreat in the tropical North, Mikey Havoc heads into the arid Outback (no comment) and chef Josh Emett takes viewers on a gastronomic adventure in Victoria's High Country.

Given the numbers of New Zealanders who are already beetling off to Australia every week, is TVNZ flouting its public broadcaster responsibility (yes, I know it doesn't actually have any these days) by promoting this programme, highlighting Australia's all-round fabulosity?

Or are we playing some deep cover double-crossing propaganda game?

The first episode seems to make a covert attack on Kiwi manhood. Why else would former All Blacks Josh Kronfeld and Frank Bunce take a "mancation" together? Is that even a word?

Is this what Australians think our rugby players do as a means of preparation for a big game - drive matching Ferraris together? "How's the raw feel of power lying under you?"

Or have Kronfeld and Bunce been taken hostage? Alert Interpol. There can be no other explanation for Kronfeld compliantly sitting daintily in the side car of a Harley for a trip down the coast. A sidecar? A handbag? No one mention Two Fat Ladies.

But wait, there's further humiliation. Bunce has to climb into an aerobatic plane. "Who's going to win the World Cup this year?" the pilot asks as he takes off. Bunce: "It's got to be New Zealand." Pilot: "That's the wrong answer, mate."

The pilot then proceeds to do his best to dislodge Bunce's lunch of fush'n'chups with a series of rolls and dives. Bunce goes green. "I thought you were a Maori boy man, but you look white," a comforting Kronfeld tut-tutts.

And Bunce is about the same hue again after he had been taken for a surfing lesson with seasoned Raglan boardrider Kronfeld.

There is certainly no bromance going on between these two - unless it is the affection shown by two bickering maiden aunts.

Kronfeld: "I wonder how Frank's doing? To be honest, I don't care." Bunce: "I found the best way to shut Josh up is to stick a beer in his gob."

Does this sound like your kind of place? No, I didn't think so. So please do watch My Kind of Place. It will do wonders in turning around the exodus to Aussie.

My Kind Of Place débuts on TV One, Saturday at 7.30pm.