So imagine if the worst thing in the world* happens, and Wellington loses its bid to continue hosting the Sevens. What should we do? 

Simple! Just don’t tell anyone. Richard Maclean at the council is great at communicating truths so surely he’d be even better at telling lies. We just pretend that the sevens are still on. Hire a couple dozen students to run up and down the field in the stadium, and who’d know the difference?  No one actually goes along for the rugby do they? People will still get dressed up, there’ll be glass and vomit and extra amounts of hate crimes (hey bogans who threw cans at my friends who dared to hold hands in public: you’re fucking losers) all over the streets as usual, and we get to keep that 16 million dollars or so that the games bring to the city. This fly would be well-happy, because I do love to live in shit, after all. 

*Not really