Brash, wearing linen trousers and a blue business shirt in sweltering heat, boxed on but not for long. He was asked to speak for an hour, prepared for 35 minutes (plus an anticipated Q&A session).
He was sitting down again long before the speech could be considered finished.
"They define Don Brash as racist," he said after the speech. "No matter what I say or do, the definition of racism in their minds is someone called Don Brash.
"I think to myself, what can I say to them - what is it in my policy position - that makes you think I prefer one race against another.
"I feel very strongly that every single ethnicity should have equal rights."
, the group which claims as a goal the removal of "race-based discrimination" in New Zealand through a lens which sees Māori as enjoying privileges others do not.
It's hurtful, he says. "I guess I've got a bit used to it."
Brash is a surprisingly thoughtful, introspective character for someone who would stand before a predominantly Māori audience and question the value of te reo. He recalls a book which posed Al Capone as a "misunderstood nice guy".
"I guess we've all got a tendency to self-deception and I'm probably no different in that regard.
He launched into the Māori language early because, he said, the people attending deserved an explanation as to why he opened with a mihi in te reo.
"I thought I needed to explain why I had done that. I was very willing to use some Māori words in that context."
Not in other circumstances. In China recently, he dialled the New Zealand embassy in Beijing to be welcomed by te reo. What's the point, he asks? Of all the people calling the embassy in China, who is actually going to have fluency?
"I just don't feel I have any animosity or prejudice against anybody of a particular race."
The encounter today was different but no less bruising than his 2004 visit during which mud was flung.
"I learnt quite a lot about the amount of anger that is still being felt by those particular Māori and I guess that was something I needed to learn."
It was clear, he said, Māori were suffering "severe economic pressure".
"There's a perception that pressure arises from an unjust system and in some cases, in my view of course, that is not entirely justified. But the anger is real and it's important I heard that."
Brash sees other routes to that economic abandonment. The housing crisis, he says, is at the core of much of this discontent.
"If you were able to deal with the housing affordability issue, a lot of the economic pressures will go away."
There was little hope of getting that across today.
Amy Walsh talks to the Herald about search efforts after her 19 year old daughter Maia Johnston disappeared in Totara Park Upper Hutt. Video / NZ Herald