Nathan Calis is the name. Write it down. Tell your mum about me. Because soon I’ll be a household name. You can call me Calis. Pronounced ‘Kay-liss’, not to be confused with Cialis the renowned viagra brand, Holden Calais, or Callus- a hardened piece of skin usually caused by friction (dodgy).

Sick of Rawa Karetai dominating the pages of this publication? Me too. For you folks, I’m gonna be pressing the most important, controversial issues of the moment: like will Lauren finally forgive Heidi? Is Sue Bradford truly a woman? Should men and women really be considered equal? And is global warming just a load of shit?

What have you got for us this week Calis?

Well, my friends, you will be reading about the sacred event known to mankind as Mardi Gras. Historically, Mardi Gras was originally a name used to allude to ‘fat tuesday’, the last day of feasting before the fasting period of Lent. Mardi Gras Ohakune, however, is a festival celebrated each year on the last weekend of June to kick off the start of the new ski season. This is done in a party like fashion, featuring top NZ bands, food trailers, fancy dress, carnival rides, and a very strong binge drinking ethos. I have attended this festival for the last two years and I’d like to share with you my experiences.

For those of you who aren’t in the know, Ohakune is a mid north island town at the foot of Mt Ruapehu. Apart from being a sleepy alpine village, Ohakune is best known as the home of the big carrot. No, they don’t have a larger than life red head, there is literally a giant statue of a carrot celebrating the fact that this small town produces more carrots than anywhere else in New Zealand.

Basically, what they do at Mardi Gras is they close the main strip called ‘The Junction’, and set up a big stage at the end of the street. The bars that line the street go off like milk in the sun, and the street is full packed with people bopping to whoever is performing on the stage.

I can assure you this trip is a wicked adventure. It starts with a four hour drive south, which is painfully long when you’re driving, but if you manage to escape the drivers seat, its just a short nap away.

Then you have to find your hotel/motel. Now I have to warn you, prices are always steep on Mardi Gras weekend, as the hotel owners have come to expect the uni hooligans to rape their rooms. The first year I was there, one of the hotel owners I know found a guy passed out in the communal spa, wrapped in a curtain. For those of us that can’t always afford expensive accommodation, I can recommend the car park behind the info centre if you have a comfy car or van.

On Mardi-morning you want to go get your tickets from the info centre to avoid the huge line later on. I suggest buying a couple extra if you’re down for a bit of a scalp. The group I was with managed to fetch a handy forty bucks for some bonus drinking cash.

Now you’re set to hit the snow, if you are that way inclined. I should warn you it is the mountain