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This week, Melbourne vs Auckland. Which is better? Just kidding; it;’s obviously Melbourne. And yet the rats, being measured journalists, provide a balanced review of both locales, two places that are so different but also so similar; like their resemblance in local cuisine (meth). Or the casual and continued usurpation of the indigenous! With that in mind Johanna is settling in well, having just sourced an apartment in the scabies-riddled hipster paradise of Fitzroy; rivalled in plaid and stick-n-pokes only by neighbouring digital nomad hot spot Brunswick.

Could this be the beginning of a dynamic cultural exchange between Australia and New Zealand, the likes of which we haven’t seen since Gallipoli? Maybe. Also on the agenda—as always—the inevitable decline of the west, whether or not nazis deserve sex, the unbearable lightness of Lime bikes, small dogs, dank matter, the conspicuous collapse of Grindr every time more than one Republican enters a room, the timeless allure of femboys, the scheduled war between China and the US, how Sam’s been helping Johanna’s dad out of remission, human faeces, a waning interest in whether we live or die, and the on going beef between Nadia Lim and Missy Elliot.

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well well well the rats are back and despite their hiatus they are NOT feeling rested. If anything their personal lives reflect the disarray of global politics. Though if they had to pick a favourite cluster fuck from the last week, it would definitely be the Nepalese uprising of angry zoomers literally burning their government to the ground for kicking them off twitter. In that vein, the rats would like to formally apologise for ANYTHING they have ever said about Gen Z, whose vacuous phone addiction and digital nativism might actually have an unanticipated radical potential (!!!). That said, the rats can’t help but feel disaffected about Charlie Kirk. Not the death of the guy (literally fuck him); more how his death will inevitably be spun into an unhinged attack on the dreaded left, despite the fact that kirk’s shooter was a friggin Groyper (an alt right douche). As Johanna’s dad conveniently points out while overhearing our less than informed historical speculations, it’s not dissimilar from the assassination of Franz Ferdinand, in which biased spin about who did what and why triggered the First World War, which arguably engendered the second, which arguably put the tinders of a third world war in cold but living storage (and here we are). So yeah, pessimism is rife this week. But at least the Palestine march in Auckland had a hearteningly massive turnout; even if our government is too dickless to take a stance. In the rats humble opinion the world is currently over abundant with ugly middled aged men gaming public institutions to benefit private interests. How’s about we make like Nepal’s Gen Z and thin the crowd.

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What a time to be alive! The states are stating, the gulags are gulaging, and the labubu continues to rise as a new synthetic super power with total fractal. Domination of the collective human psyche in its sights. But what of toy-crazes of yesteryear? Such as, the Sea Monkey. Revisiting Johanna’s private shame this week, we reminisce about an earlier episode in which she confesses (is found out, actually) to having thought the eponymous sea monkeys had the simian form of their artful marketing. Mandela Effect? No; psychosis. Or, the luminous slippage between expectation and reality which we’re all prey to within these mortal coils and their roving dreaming, which seems hell bent on unknitting the limits of the corporeal with bigger bolder more destructive dreaming. Or whatever.

Also this week, were stuck on Saveloy Squids on both sides of the pay wall, for which the rats are extremely sorry (‘why is the precious meat brown?’). Like the labubu and asbestos, Saveloy Squids are a novel craze destined to ravage a significant cross section of the population with stealth carcinogens, predictably designed to thin the crowd before anybody even notices what’s going on. Forget the greys; squids are the REAL threat. The rats also discuss the perennial conditioning of women to be nice to men (vomit sound) and a Titanic-sinking conspiracy that’s as well researched as the government budget (cough).

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What a world we’re living in! They say god is dead but the rats know our One True Lord and Saviour is convenience, a modus operandi that’s convenient to some and kind of a bum deal to others depending on which side your bread’s buttered on; (Global) North or South. And so, the rats spend some time swapping misadventures on Uber Pool that’s equal parts sympathetic to the plight of neo slavery (which our gig-economy indelibly is), while opining the acute angles of the inescapable human zoo we all find ourselves in (like with everything there are pros and cons). For example, what do you do when your uber driver’s on the tail end of a 12 hr shift and is clearly showing symptoms of a potentially homicidal nervous breakdown? Not much tbh because you’re not behind the wheel, so if he decides to take a sharp and final left off Grafton Bridge there’s not really much you can do about it; the fact he’s letting you vape in the car should take the edge off though (true story).

Also also, join the rats in their mutual salivation as everyone’s favourite (maybe guilty) pleasure Florence and the Machine gears up for another bombastically operatic release. We don’t know about you but the rats enjoy Flo’s self described ‘incorrigible maximalism’ as a salve to an otherwise risk averse media landscape that’s all petit blondes and fourteen carat labubus (snore). Also; are you team Ethel or team Lana? Also also; does it matter which pale-skinned pop star you’re allegiant to when we’re cusping societal collapse? You bet it does! Inevitably, our pop preferences will dictate which cannibal urban gangs we self-organise into once the beehive goes radio silent and we’re fighting nazis for bags of pestilence riddled flour in the streets. I know which swamp queen I’m rooting for.

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Guests! Give a very warm welcome to our very special guests actor Matt Whelan and writer/actor Sophie Henderson, two of NZ’s finest film and television talents whose recent film Workmates just premiered at the NZIFF to acclaim and accolades and the kind of national pride our government should be aspiring to, rather than allying itself closer to a genocidal behemoth by letting them build an intelligence office in Wellington (kms). But Matt and Sophie aren’t just polymaths of screen and stage; they’re also humans, with stories and foibles like the rest of us. So join us for a magical hour of relatable truth saying (“we’re just like you”) by two kiwi treasures as they beguile us with anecdotes and BTS goodies like you won’t get anywhere else. Specifically, how their experiences with locally beloved venue Basement shaped their film’s story of resilience in the arts during austerity (and if that sounds familiar, it’s because we’re living it). Also featured; the unbearable lightness of platonic entanglements, the humid weight of modesty garments then filming sex scenes, and meeting a playboy bunny.

It’s an exclusive glimpse behind the curtain and you’re very welcome (RNZ could never).

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