Script goes awry for entertainer

Martin Pugh acknowledged there was no written proof of the joint-ownership plan, despite his having advised Tua of the importance of friends putting business agreements in writing. Picture / Kenny Rodger

Martin Pugh sits in the witness box and delivers his evidence like an entertainer. The former nightclub owner speaks fast, fluently and intelligently, his material written conversation-style. There are asides, pauses for effect, the odd joke.

He sits there, hands clasped in front, a faint smile on his lips, a voice that flicks from humorous to belligerent.

At one point he describes how "David Tua and Tony Forlong asked me how they could go about getting a copy of the Exclusive Management Agreement, at which I replied with a little Santa chuckle".

He breaks into an evil-sounding "ho ho ho", then waits for the laugh from the courtroom.

Finally he finishes the joke: "[Why don't you] use the copy of the one that was removed by David Tua?" He wins another laugh.

Pugh's core message is this: "David [Tua] was hassled on a daily basis by his girlfriends and family ...

"He spent over $1 million on his parents' house in Mangere and expanded it into a mansion ... I couldn't believe the constant demands for money".

As for himself, Pugh says, sporting a buddha embroidered on the breast of his grey shirt, "I'm far from the cheating, greedy, white trash they made me out to be".

And later: "The biggest, costly and most hurtful lie to me is David Tua saying on oath that David Tua never really liked me or trusted me."

Everyone giggles at that.

But later, when cross-examined by Tony Molloy, QC, Pugh's demeanour changes. Instead of looking across the court to where Tua, his wife, Robina, and his supporters sit shoulder to massive shoulder, he turns his head towards the judge.

His eyes flick back and forward, raking the wall, hands clasp and unclasp as he answers a series of questions designed to A) establish that he is unaware of the obligations of company directors, and B) that he has little knowledge of tax laws.

Pugh's answers become long until Molloy loses patience. "Are you aware of the requirement, Mr Pugh?" he says in a loud, angry voice.

Although after that, there is the odd "yes" or "no" answer, and at times Pugh looks uncomfortable, he recomposes himself. Overall, the entertainer has gone from being at ease and in control, to anxious.

If Pugh has supporters here they are hard to spot. Apart from Kevin Barry in his white flowing shirt, sad eyes and haircut reminiscent of Kel of Kath and Kim fame, it is all Tua people with bulging biceps.

Their hero, and as Pugh would have it, cash cow, is wearing a blue and white shirt and skirt - in Samoan an ie faitaga - with a smart white strip round the hem. His tie sports smiley faces and the message "Jesus loves you".

"It cost $1.50 at the Otara market," Tua says proudly.