Kiwi fruity

It was time to meet Mr and Mrs Nunn, plus Jack, my brother, for lunch.  TheBloke (TM) came along too.

Jack had barely sat down, before he had gleeful news to impart.  "Laura!" he said, "Ask Mum about kiwis!"

"Huh?" I replied.  "The green fruit?  Why?"

"No," Jack said, "ask her about New Zealanders!"

I still wasn't following.  Jack prompted me further.  "Ask her about my girlfriend."

"Go on," I said to Mrs Nunn.  Mrs Nunn clearly knew she was being set up, but carried on anyway.  "Well," she said.  "You know how I told you Jack's girlfriend was half Maori?"

"Yes," I said.  "I remember being surprised because she's tall and fair.  But yes, I do remember me telling you that."

"Well, she isn't half Maori," Mrs Nunn said.

"Well why did you say that then?"

"It's Jack's fault," Mrs Nunn proclaimed.

"How so?" my brother prompted.

"Well, Jack told me she was half Kiwi.  So he told me wrong."  Mrs Nunn looked haughty in her utter correctness.

"Huh?" I said, eloquently.

"Well, you know," Mrs Nunn continued.  "Kiwi is a polite word for Maori."

I didn't even know where to start with this one.  "Why would calling someone Maori be impolite?  And also, no it isn't.  It's just a word for anyone from New Zealand.  And it isn't offensive," I said.  "New Zealanders don't mind being called Kiwis."

"No," Mrs Nunn insisted.  "Kiwi means Maori."

"Mum, you have cousins who live in New Zealand.  They are Kiwis."

"No they're NOT," she insisted.  "They have English grandparents - they aren't Maori at all."

"Kiwi does not mean Maori," Jack and I said in unison.

"Well it does to me," said Mrs Nunn, thus finishing - and winning - the argument.

Editor's note: Mrs Nunn has recently returned from a round-the-world trip, taking in a two-week sojourn to New Zealand.  The mind boggles at the diplomatic incidents probably unfolding as I type.