Earlier this year I posted a yarn about air-guitar. It was written by Steve Braunias, and published in New Zealand's Listener magazine. Here is the sequel, also published in Listener magazine.

Our January 8 issue this year included a story I wrote about three-time New Zealand air-guitar champion Barry Moore. An air guitarist, the story helpfully explained, "is that guy you see at parties. He's on the dance floor, and there's some hard rock playing on the stereo, and he's pretending to fire off all these hot riffs and blistering solos". Moore was "big in Japan"; he air guitared to songs by Led Zeppelin and Straitjacket Fits; he had released an exhibition video called NZ On Air. "No one can stop me when I'm in the mood," said Moore, a 24- year-old data processor who lived with his girlfriend Maxine in Hamilton East. The interview was conducted just before he was about to fly to Detroit, to represent New Zealand in the 2000 Air Guitar World Cup, up against 40 finalists "from Germany, Egypt, Australia, even Burkina Faso" for the first prize of $35,000. He had "such beautiful hands".

I made it all up. Superbly, though, it conned some of the biggest names in New Zealand show business, and you bet I gleefully reported each and every invitation for Barry to perform to our designer Derek Ward - he had posed for the photographs. But, like all hoaxes, it eventually went too far ...

Things started innocently enough, when Bruce from the Waikato Times called to ask for Barry's number - he was astonished that the Listener had scooped the story from his own back yard.
I told Bruce I'd put his request to Barry, and left it at that. In the meantime, I received a long, rambling letter from Michael of Radio One in Dunedin. "Moore was right when he pointed out that a good air guitarist is better than a bad real guitarist ... It's the pose, the strut, the pelvic grind that counts ... I have to concede there's a degree of skill in air guitaring without a prop such as a tennis racquet. The minimum I ever managed with was a breadboard." Yes.

A few weeks later, this email came from a TV director called Bill: "Re the wonderful story you wrote about the air guitar chap. I'm lucky enough to be accompanying Mikey Havoc and Jeremy Wells on a jaunt around and about New Zealand, and we thought we could go and see him. Yours sincerely ..." I wrote a reply saying that Barry would only agree to be filmed if he could have Havoc's red jersey. I have no idea whether Havoc even has a red jersey, but it sounded like something Barry would want. I deleted the message, though, and sincerely admitted it was all complete bullshit. Bill wrote back, "You definitely had us all going with that story. We all feel slightly shorter and less clever today."

Well, where Havoc goes, Ice TV always follows. "What an interesting subject," emailed Heidi from the TV3 show, inviting Barry to perform. In reply, I rather brutally told her he had died in a road accident - he had smashed up his Triumph while driving to perform in an air-guitar event in Mosgiel.

In March, Glenys emailed to invite Barry to perform at a work function in Hamilton East. Deciding that he was still alive, I asked whether Barry might get paid. I aimed high: $25. No problem, she said, and added that he could also help himself to free drinks and barbecued food "The thing is," she added, "we are having the social club function tonight. I have been trying for a couple of weeks to track him down through local radio stations but although they were really interested that such a person existed, they hadn't heard of him." Regretfully, I had to tell her it was too short notice for the maestro to perform, but he appreciated the offer of a hot sausage.

Next up was an email from TV director called Sean. "We're in pre-production for a new show featuring the magnificent Gary McCormick. The show is called McCormick Rips, and involves Gary performing live around the country with special guests from the area. To this end we would like Barry Moore to one of our guests in Cambridge." Such a shame, I told Sean, but Barry was attending a funeral - his own? - in Mosgiel that day. It strikes me now that Barry might have saved McCormick Rips from being canned after two shows.

And then it turned nasty. Barry was asked to play at Sound 2000, a musical equipment expo held at Auckland's Aotea Centre. The expo's PR, Angela, offered $50, but during two emails expressed sarcastic doubt that Barry existed. "Barry and I find your tone offensive and insulting," I replied. "I don't know what your f***ing problem is ... The invitation is rejected." She phoned up in a hell of a temper, and we swore at each other, and then her boss called and profusely apologised, and said he had given Angela a bollocking for her behaviour ...

Sorry, Angela. You were the smartest of the lot. It's obviously time to call a halt to the hoax; too bad, though, that I never got around to applying to New Zealand On Air to fund a TV documentary about Barry. The chances are high that they would have paid.