Not to get too churlish here, because some of the individuals involved have indeed notched up highly meritorious achievements.
But really, the second-highest order of the land invested in someone whose crowning ability is to hurf a cannonball farther than most others of her gender? Now our Val is one staunch dudess, who I'm sure has trained hard, is generous to friends and rellies, and has also done a fair bit in extracurricular promotion of sport, fundraising, and the like.
But she's also the recipient of lush sponsorship deals that require her to carry out just such activities, not to mention lucrative pickings from success on the world athletics stage.
Similarly, most of the others so rewarded have all been fully remunerated professionals working to fulfil their employment contracts. As with respect, in paid professions let honour be its own reward.
If individuals within those professions discharge their duties more proficiently than others, then the record will speak for itself in all manner of means other than arbitrary feudal titular hashtags.
Thankfully, we're not quite in the egregious category evident in the honours' land of origin, where a de facto titles-for-sale regime persists, contingent on contributions to party coffers, or automatically deriving from conventional careers in the public service, military or judiciary.
But why do we further reward those already well rewarded and acknowledged?
Surely, if we are going to retain these twice-yearly prizegivings, it should be reserved for those whose contributions are purely voluntary, distinct from duties discharged simply as part of a job description, and irrespective of how diligently they may have been carried out. It's not hard to summon up a list of exemplary athletes more deserving of recognition for other than ability to toss a cannonball a prodigious distance. But athletes of the social arena, doing selfless service for hospice, care-giving, the SPCA, offering refuge to the homeless, or whatever.
Prominent in my secondary school hall were a couple of self-titled honours boards. Handsomely rendered in Old English Gothic gilt lettering, one recorded batsmen who had scored a century for the school First XI, and the other previous school duxes.
"Honour", therefore, was a bit arbitrary, with no similar recognition for outstanding achievement in other areas.
But the point is, let the national bodies of the various fields of endeavour -- be they sports, academia, business, arts, political, or what-have-you -- maintain their own respective honours boards.
These will duly note records of service for career office holders, or exemplary achievers simply discharging, however splendidly, their occupational choices.
If we must have a gold-plated gong for an Ernest Rutherford or a Brian Barratt-Boyes, we already have the exclusive Order of New Zealand. There's still an array of trinkets for other exceptions.
If there is to be a broad-based premium honours list, then let it prioritise those contributing in a truly honourable public-spirited capacity, clearly divorced from attendant financial emoluments.
At the very least, let's lose these ridiculous titles deriving from ability to efficiently slaughter on medieval battlefields.
