This young man started saving at 3 years of age. At 3 1/2, he owns his own firestation

Over the past few years, we've heard plenty about housing. The property market, initially in Auckland, more recently reaching into the provinces, has had more and more investment sunk into it, until it has reached a point described by economists as overinflated.

A balloon artist's impression of the Auckland housing market

The more money that pours in, with property prices climbing out of reach of younger buyers, the closer we are told we are coming closer to the market rapidly bursting, risking economic devastation.

A balloon artist's impression of the Auckland housing market following a sudden unexpected deflation

Regardless, it seems we are unable to peruse the media without reading the story of a student or worker in their early twenties who, having saved steadfastly since their early teens, and forgone luxuries such as food or friendship, has just taken possession of their first home or investment property. But the question remains to be answered: if these young property tycoons had buckled down and put money aside from an early age, what could they have achieved?

Luke knows. Right from an early age he knew what he wanted: 'Mummy, I want to buy a fire station,' he declared shortly after his third birthday.

So middle class he eats barely cooked fish

Luke started his financial success by earning money at home. 'I tidy my room, and do washing,' he stated, with his parents rewarding him with inconsequential sums of money as a crude form of bribery, in an attempt to protect themselves from stepping on stray Lego. Asked further about his duties, Luke stated: 'I did washing, and I broke a plate.' Expanding on his entrepreneurial portfolio, he found other ways to boost his finances: 'I found some moneys in Mummy and Daddy's room,' Luke explained.

Soon, he had enough to consider investing in the property market, and was the proud owner of a small two story fire station. Of course, like many youngsters making their first steps in the ladder, Luke did receive financial aid from his parents, who contributed thirty dollars whilst the building was on sale at Farmers. (But let's not concentrate on that as it ruins our narrative).

Luke with his property and two of his tenants, Sam Jones and Elvis Cridlington

Still living with his parents, Luke has little use for the fire station as a primary dwelling. With no mortgage to play, he has charitably allowed four small firemen to take possession of the facility, to use for their own purposes, free of rent. Asked if he one day plans to move in to the fire station himself, Luke admitted that he probably wouldn't, 'cos I'm too big.' Unashamedly, this is only the first step on to the property ladder for a young man who dreams of owning more grand properties.

Indeed, Luke says he is already saving once more in hope of buying himself some prime South Pacific real estate: 'I want to buy Tracey Island'.

The coveted island paradise

Balloon animals of New Zealand: the overseas visitor edition

First things first. You'll remember, if you're an avid reader of Netflix and Children, my search for new Zealand's number one historical joke book, despite being unsure of its existence. And I can confirm, that yes, I am one step closer, for Mr Jason Gunn has replied to my correspondence! Indeed, Netflix and Children has the exclusive scoop that (a) Mr Gunn did compile a book of jokes in the early 90s, which was at the pre world-wide-web time, a lucrative earner, and (b) that he is indeed miffed at being incessantly passed over in his attempts to secure a (admittedly well deserved) knighthood for services to the gunge industry.

So, I implore you, please, if any reader should have a copy of this book, please let me know, for potential reviewing purposes.

And now, on to serious business.

Those with adequately functioning mid-term memories may remember a time last year when the more affluent suburbs of central Auckland were struck with a pestilence, one which restricted their travel with fresh fruit stuffs outside the confines of their immediate neighbourhood. How the beautiful people howled at the indignity of having to pre-prepare their organic kale and acai berry smoothies before heading to the crossfit gym. Gradually, restrictions were loosened, and a mango could be carried between Ponsonby and Herne Bay, so long as it bore a thick layer of cling film and Faro Fresh branding. Today, the plague has lifted, and the affluent Jafas are able to take their five plus a day to work, school or play once more. Here is my balloon depiction of the 2015 Grey Lynn fruit fly, laying siege to New Zealand's horticulture industry.

Still, it could have been much worse for the rich and well to do, had it been the Queensland Quinoa Fly, the Fijiian Moet and Chandon Grub or the South American Ferrari Weevil that had been discovered lurking in Remuera.

Double post! Book review: 'The Knock Knock Joke Book', and Balloon Animals of NZ: Low Hanging Fruit Edition

I love joke books! I used to anyway. I had so many growing up, and they were all better than the sorry excuse served up in The Knock Knock Joke Book, at least through my roses spectacled nostalgia. I've a vague recollection that Jase 'the Ace' Gunn even compiled an anthology of his own, presumably as part of intensive therapy to help him get over the trauma of Thingee losing an eye on national television. Unfortunately I'm unable to find evidence of this book of classic gags, so have resorted to a few last ditch measures.

Firstly, I have followed the sage advice of our prime minister, offered in reference to an equally scarce commodity: the Auckland house under $500,000. Unfortunately, going to trademe.co.nz and googling 'Jason Gunn Joke Book' did not return the 'quite a few' hits promised.

So secondly, I have tweeted the great man himself. I'll keep you updated. I feel my chances of a reply are somewhat higher than when I tweeted Frank Bainamarama about KFC.

Anyway. I bought the Knock Knock Joke Book in the hope I might be able to interest the 3 year old in humour, given his history of publicly rejecting my excellent gags and puns. And he loves the book! That's not necessarily a good thing. Normally I love forced jokes. The contents of this book aren't  forced though, so much as they are rammed down your throat with crudely drawn cartoons to explain exactly why the contrived situation you just read was funny: oh, I see, the person at the door was a carpet salesman, trying to draw maximum drama out of his arrival! How droll!

Granted: a few jokes are tireless classics. In fact, I think this one was even in Jase's anthology:

But too many rely on visuals to appeal to use in any real life situation. Like: why has this man got a seal on his head, and how am I going to convey that when I regale the joke during witty banter with chums down at the pub? Maybe prefaced by, 'hey dudes, wanna hear a gag that would be super chill if you had a seal on your head?'

Still other jokes just don't work at all. WTF is an island doing knocking at someone's door. Especially if it's landing on the roof with a parachute. FFS.

Fittingly, the last entry ends with a young lad running away (Omar goodness!), a strong metaphor for what anyone should do should they encounter this book.

0.5/10

And another thing!!! A week and a bit ago I presented John Key's finest career moment, sculpted in balloons. May I present today, modelled out of inflatable rubber, the climax of Minister of Business and Innovation and loads of other crap I can't be arsed googling Steven Joyce's time in politics. It is, of course, the Waitangi Dildo.

I was going to make some penis jokes at this point, but I think they've all been made already. So here's a picture of another phallus that Steven Joyce has the misfortune to be often associated with.

Balloon sculptures of New Zealand History: part 2

You know what's hard to make out of balloons? Most things actually. But I was pretty distressed when I looked at the comments from a previous post and saw a request from 'Anonymous' requesting a pregnancy hippo balloon animal. I have mastered a few models. My tapeworm is outstanding.

My roundworm isn't too bad either.

But I'm sorry, Mr/Mrs/Ms Anonymous, a pregnant hippo is alas outside of my capabilities. Still, I hope you enjoy the Wiggles concert, and can put the idea of Lachie and Emma sharing their purple wiggle and hot potatoes with one another out of your head.

Instead, I am honoured to present to you an abstract visualisation of a major innovation in New Zealand history. Most readers may know I am somewhat unimpressed by John Key, our country's prime minister. However, I will give him credit where it is due, in the invention of a whole new way of congratulating a sportsperson for a major success. Unfortunately hands are yet another difficult to sculpt model. I have managed four fingers each: a fifth is out of my scope.

But as you can see: the blue hand is reaching out to congratulate the orange hand on a major sporting endeavour: he has just led is team to a famous international victory. But low! What is this? A third, purple hand reaches in, clasping over the two already shaking appendages, not wanting to be left out of the sweaty three way.

God bless you John, for your innovative three way hand shake. Now immortalised in the form of a photo of three crudely shaped balloons.

If you like what you see, I can do children's parties.

Chris's Balloon Animals of NZ: an infrequent series

The Baby food blog is dead. Long live Netflix and children, which is really just a poorly thought out pun referring to the act of trying to enjoy some time with one's significant other, possibly involving streamed media, but being repeatedly disturbed by your offspring waking and spoiling the mood. Whatever the cause for the title, the sad fact of the matter is Emily is old enough that she eats what the rest of us eat now, and I'm simply not game enough to try and review my wife's cooking for attempted comedic effect. So there may be food reviews, but this will now be more books, films, tv, and toddlers music (read innapropriate jokes about the Wiggles, sorry Wiggles), whenever I have time.

Speaking of which, does anyone else get that Wake Up Jeff song? Cos speaking from experience as a man of medicine, most guys don't need much encouragement getting their Purple Wiggle to rise in the morning (Sorry Wiggles).

Anyway, balloon animals! Do you have a favourite moment in NZ history that you would like to see lovingly rendered in balloon sculpture? Let me know in the comments! This is an offer that is bound to explode in my face!

In the mean time, may I present Gareth Morgan's high horse? Just like the real thing, it's having a hard job of standing up by itself, and will eventually end up a flaccid disappointment!