http://www.teawamutu.co.nz/community/blog.php?613-Cox-on-a-Box Community news and discussion forum for Te Awamutu and district. en Wed, 22 May 2013 13:29:54 GMT vBulletin 60 http://www.teawamutu.co.nz/community/images/misc/rss.jpg http://www.teawamutu.co.nz/community/blog.php?613-Cox-on-a-Box http://www.teawamutu.co.nz/community/entry.php?96-Q-Subs Thu, 13 Oct 2011 09:59:00 GMT His real name is Hugh but his nephews couldn’t pronounce it and opted for the simpler ‘Q’. When he invented his recreational submarine he, quite sensibly called it the Q-Sub. Its’ a two person vessel designed and built in New Zealand and can dive to over 120 metres and you’ll be pleased to know... His real name is Hugh but his nephews couldn’t pronounce it and opted for the simpler ‘Q’. When he invented his recreational submarine he, quite sensibly called it the Q-Sub. Its’ a two person vessel designed and built in New Zealand and can dive to over 120 metres and you’ll be pleased to know that you can stick it on your credit card for under one million US.

Rather than looking back all the time as we septuagenarians tend to do, I sometimes enjoy trying to be prescient; isn’t that lovely word. It’s defined in the Oxford as ‘having foreknowledge or foresight.’ Oh that we had! Maybe Hugh Fulton’s Q-Sub is the new plaything of the future, hopefully replacing those shrill jet skis.

But nothing stays the same and the Q-Sub may have problems navigating in the future because the magnetic North Pole, that quintessential navigational beacon, is moving west faster than at any time in human history. This really does threaten a whole lot of things we take for granted. And it’s not the movement of just a few centimetres, its’ a whole whopping 65 kilometres a year. What’s worse, the pole is moving towards Russia; now I wonder what they’ll do with it when it finally arrives, nationalize it?

One can be flippant about these things, but this a rapid shift, its increased by about a third in the last decade and has caused serious speculation that the earth’s magnetic field is about to flip. This will cause compasses to do an about face; magnetic needles will be pointing south rather than the north. I didn’t know this, but it occurs between three and seven times every million years. Its’ caused by the earth’s molten core changing its’ shape. Apparently there is a ‘plume’ of magnetism associated with this core of molten iron, which alters the degree of the earth’s axis. This will cause huge problems for navigation, although not for things like those GPS gadget you have in your car, they rely on satellites. Its’ the old magnetic compasses that will be turned onto their heads.

I must admit when I read all this I immediately thought it was an April fools prank, but not so, its’ genuine. The ones you really have to feel sorry for are all those migratory animals and birds who do rely on the earth’s magnetic fields. If you fly south to avoid the northern winter, using magnetic compasses implanted in your brain, you could find it very upsetting. I’m glad I don’t still live in Palmerston North which will no doubt become known as Palmerston South; but hang on there is already a Palmerston in the South Island; a lot of people are going to need counselling over this; Bill, you better put a provision for that in your upcoming budget! I wonder if Vice President Gore will write a book about it, and who will he blame?

Author A.C. Clarke is also prescient about the future in his novel ‘3001’ where an astronaut, lost in space in 2001 is found a thousand years later. Using his DNA he is brought back to life in the year 3001. Clarke is obviously an adherent of Gore’s doomsday views and has the surface of the earth totally uninhabitable. Its’ one billion inhabitants, reduced from the present seven billion, now live in a sort of circumferential collar attached to the earth, but suspended one hundred miles above it. Interestingly enough we now have carbon materials that could build such a framework. Religious practices have by 3001, according to Mr. Clarke, all but disappeared, with the advanced education systems having put paid to them. But perhaps I shouldn’t go there at a time so close to the Easter festivities, I’ll just get on with my Easter Egg which I’ve saved, but come on, surely that hasn’t got anything to do with Easter either, has it? I thought the egg was pagan symbols of the rebirth that happened in the Northern Hemisphere in their spring. Shortly it may have to be called the Southern Hemisphere?

The more you ponder about what’s out there in the future, the more one is grateful for ones mortality; let the grand kids sort it out.

Obviously Hugh Fulton has been thinking ahead, being prescient, with his Q-Sub. I think I’d like to have ride in one before I depart this mortal coil. ]]> Michael Cox http://www.teawamutu.co.nz/community/entry.php?96-Q-Subs http://www.teawamutu.co.nz/community/entry.php?95-We-are-what-we-eat Tue, 13 Sep 2011 10:58:12 GMT We are what we eat. I quite unashamedly enjoy my food and have always suffered from being ‘over weight’ although nowadays Doctors refer to one as suffering from obesity, trying tactically to shame one into eating less I suppose. In the 1970s a French writer called Georges Perec wrote a book... We are what we eat. I quite unashamedly enjoy my food and have always suffered from being ‘over weight’ although nowadays Doctors refer to one as suffering from obesity, trying tactically to shame one into eating less I suppose.

In the 1970s a French writer called Georges Perec wrote a book entitled, ‘Attempt at an Inventory of the Liquid and Solid Foodstuffs Ingurgitated by Me in the Course of the Year Nineteen Hundred and Seventy Four’. It must have been of limited interest and gastronomically unappealing as a read, but if nothing else it makes one look back over the years to see how one’s eating habits have changed.

Haddock, a big flaky fish, related to cod and caught in the cold North Sea, battered and eaten with chips sustained me as a young boy along with most other Britons. It always had to be liberally sprinkled with salt and vinegar which was probably bad for the heart, but it tasted good. They say Hitler missed his main chance of beating the British nation in 1940. Whilst he and his Luftwaffe spent all their time and energy cruelly blitzing London, Liverpool, Bristol and Coventry, they should have been sinking all those bunty little fishing boats that sailed out of the ports on the east coast ports of England with lovely Norse names like Yarmouth, Lowestoft and Grimsby. He would have then starved the British people, for their fish and chips literally sustained them through the tough times.

I remember my first ice cream; bought at the same shop my father purchased our fish and chips. By the time he had got it home the wafers were soggy, the ice cream almost liquid, but boy was it good. It was sweet and we’d been deprived of sugar. The first bananas were dried, brown and sickly sweet; my stomach rejected them and the appearance of the real live ones a few years later was treated with some suspicion. Oranges were something you received once a year in the bottom of your Christmas stocking, although I do remember being forced to take a spoonful of ‘orange juice’ from a bottle during the war. “Its vitamin C and it’ll make your legs grown straight” threatened Mother.

We were a dry house, basically because there wasn’t any spare cash for such luxuries. But I do remember Mother, at Christmas, drinking Advocaat, a liqueur with a base of raw eggs. I wondered if she took it to keep her legs straight. As a teenager Father had
worked in his Dad’s pub, The Woolpack in Banbury. That experience put him off booze for most of his life. When he played rugby the shout in the pub at the end of the game was, ”fourteen pints and a lemonade for the kid!”

Slowly our menus changed. As a young apprentice in the Merchant Navy I learnt to eat anything and everything; I seemed to be constantly hungry. I wonder if I still hold the record for eating six packets of ‘standard lemon ‘ice cream in one sitting? The catering crew was frequently Indian and I learnt to enjoy their curries for breakfast. In London on leave I went to an Indian restaurant called Verah Swarmis in Piccadilly to try their curry; had a Vinda loo; and my mouth still burns at the memory of it. As a young officer on passenger ships I discovered fish without batter. The piece of lemon was a puzzle; did you eat it, suck it or just squeeze it?

Wine appeared in the 60s. In New Zealand we thought we were very suave as we slurped bubbling sweet Gravilla Champagne, which became known as Gorilla following the hang over it produced; it seemed to be brewed with more apples than grapes. It took some time before the palate accepted anything that wasn’t cloyingly sweet, the Sauternes, usually in a half bottle, prevailed.

Nowadays I go for new tastes and preparations. Garlic with almost anything, spaghetti not from a tin, fresh smoked salmon, olive oil that is not kept in the medicine cupboard, the oxymoronic sweet and sour pork together with so many other wonderful foods that now tempt us. I feel guilty about it but I still do enjoy the odd Quarter Pounder and I lick many a finger after The Colonel’s KFC.

But old obesity habits die hard; tonight’s menu, battered Hoki and chips. ]]> Michael Cox http://www.teawamutu.co.nz/community/entry.php?95-We-are-what-we-eat http://www.teawamutu.co.nz/community/entry.php?94-Christchurch Tue, 12 Jul 2011 04:38:53 GMT You, the people of Christchurch should, between shakes, stand up and take a bow. I salute your ongoing bravery; mine would have crumbled long ago. Earthquakes make one feel so insignificant; I just cannot imagine what it must be like to be living with them continuously. The fear of the next one... You, the people of Christchurch should, between shakes, stand up and take a bow. I salute your ongoing bravery; mine would have crumbled long ago. Earthquakes make one feel so insignificant; I just cannot imagine what it must be like to be living with them continuously. The fear of the next one must be horrific and, like most other New Zealanders I suspect, I’m just glad my life isn’t plugged into Christchurch.

Your position is akin to two other cities, who during the recent past, have suffered as you do.

The first must be London throughout the blitz in 1940, when for forty nights on end their homes, families and livelihoods were bombed by Hitler’s Luftwaffe. There was limited escape down in the tube train tunnels, but even there a direct hit at the entrance would kill all those families sheltering. After the war, as a youngster, I was taken by my father to see the war damage sites; he wanted me to remember the horror of it all. He was working to provide play grounds on some of these bombsites. It was the beginning of an organisation called the National Playing Fields Association.

London had its hell on earth and the people’s extra- ordinary bravery shone through the smoke and dust. In some ways, because there was an end to it, one way or the other, it must have been less terrifying than the lot of the people of Christchurch who can see no immediate conclusion.

The Mediterranean island of Malta is the second place that comes to mind. A British possession and major naval base for several centuries, a slab of sun drenched rock, stuck slap bang in the middle of supply routes between German controlled France and Italy and their armies fighting the allies eighth army in North Africa. The island of Crete had been lost to the Axis forces so Malta was the only place where the Royal Navy and Air Force could operate to stem the flow of these German arms and supplies. The RN fleet operating from Alexandra and Malta with air cover sank many enemy cargo ships, frequently full of explosives or oil. Hitler and Mussolini both knew that Malta would have to go if they were to win their North African campaign. Constant air raids, day and night, plastered this small island with its beautiful port of Valetta. Keeping the island supplied with fuel for the planes, mainly spitfires, was a major problem. Convoys from England were easy prey to German U Boats and the E Boats, equivalent to the RN’s Motor Torpedo Boats. I sailed with an engineer who regaled me with tales of the three ships he’d had sunk under him in one night on the Malta convoys. The US Ohio, an oil tanker, was so badly damaged that four tugs met her some one hundred miles out from Valetta and slung some huge slings under her hull to make sure she made it into port with her precious fighter fuel cargo.

The bombing of Malta killed so many people that there was an outbreak of the Bubonic Plague as a result of the decomposing bodies under the collapsed buildings; the whole island was sprayed with DDT to halt it in its’ tracks. The bravery of all those people who survived, with no place to escape to, with very little food, under constant attack from the skies was eventually recognised towards the end of the conflict. King George the sixth joined the HMS Aurora in Alexandra and sailed to Malta. He stood on the upper bridge as the vessel sailed into Valetta Harbour, resplendent in his Admiral of the Fleets’ white uniform and acknowledged the thousands of cheering Maltese lining the harbour walls. He came ashore and presented the George Cross for bravery to the people of Malta.

I think we should collectively recognise the brave and courageous people of Christchurch in a similar fashion. ]]> Michael Cox http://www.teawamutu.co.nz/community/entry.php?94-Christchurch http://www.teawamutu.co.nz/community/entry.php?93-Deuteronomy Thu, 07 Jul 2011 02:27:56 GMT The book of Deuteronomy, Chapter 23 verses 17 and 18, makes a definitive statement on homosexuality; “it is an abomination”. No ifs buts or maybes, just one damming phrase that has directed churches on this complex issue down the centuries. Recently Father Paul Martin, rector of Wellington’s St.... The book of Deuteronomy, Chapter 23 verses 17 and 18, makes a definitive statement on homosexuality; “it is an abomination”. No ifs buts or maybes, just one damming phrase that has directed churches on this complex issue down the centuries.

Recently Father Paul Martin, rector of Wellington’s St. Patrick’s College for boys showed that this sentiment was far from dead. He is reported as giving an instruction to one of his students that he could not bring a male partner to the school ball, but that he must be accompanied by a girl.

What messages does that give to his school body? Does it catagorically say that none of his students are homosexuals? Does it give cart blanche to the bullies in his school to ridicule, taunt and brutalise any of their peers who show homosexual tendencies? Does it say to the parents of the school, do not send me boys who are anything but heterosexual? Surely this Father of the Roman Catholic Church lived with fellow trainee priests in the seminaries who were covert homosexuals? Did he ‘out’ them to the Bishop? Did he make sure that none of them served in a position within the church or its’ schools that could have exacerbated those ‘gay’ tendencies? He has done his church no good with his Deuteronomic perversity.

In total contrast to The Holy Father actions I’ve read recently that a former England World Cup-winning winger, Ben Cohen, has prematurely ended his successful rugby career to concentrate on a new foundation aimed at reducing bullying, particularly when associated with homophobia. This player, who scored 31 tries in 57 tests for his country, believes that he could play for another two years, yet has turned down lucrative offers from French and English clubs to focus on the Ben Cohen Stand Up Foundation. He is heterosexual but has recently become conscious of his ‘gay’ following, ousting David Beckham as ‘Gay Times’ sports personality of the year in 2008. His role will be to help those in the lesbian and gay community who are struggling to come to terms with their sexuality. His interest in reducing suicides as a result of such bullying came from an incident when his father was killed trying to break up a fight as a result of such bullying. He believes he is in a privileged position with a large public following and that this will give him a good start in his quest.

I suspect that most young men and possible women, at least once in their life, flirt with the question ‘am I gay?’ About ninety odd percent find that they are indeed heterosexual. How hard it would be to discover that you sexually preferred someone of your own sex. How hard to not go down the road your parents expected from you. How hard it would be to bury your longing for another person of your own sex. How easy to marry someone of the opposite sex, as expected by your peers, and all the time wanting to follow your natural genetic instinct to be with another person of your own gender. And I say natural, because how could it be otherwise? With the abhorrence that many will display towards your ‘coming out’ as an homosexual, it would be difficult to imagine someone doing so to attract attention or to be one of a group. I admire those who do own up to their gay sexual preferences; they are indeed very brave. Many find that it takes until their middle age to make that step, even though they have been married and produced families.

Let’s hope the Holy Father Paul Martin doesn’t read too much more from Deuteronomy, particularly Chapter 25, verse 11, which states that “If two men are having a fight and the wife of one tries to help her husband by grabbing hold of the other man genitals, show her no mercy; cut off the offending hand!” So there you go! ]]> Michael Cox http://www.teawamutu.co.nz/community/entry.php?93-Deuteronomy http://www.teawamutu.co.nz/community/entry.php?89-Chocolate-Teapot Thu, 24 Mar 2011 09:15:00 GMT “You’re as daft as a chocolate teapot,” a Member of Her Majesties loyal opposition called out to me across the floor of the debating chamber. As a new MP, doing my utmost to assume the gravitas expected by the voters of my electorate, it shook me. I was in my first year and speaking in the house... “You’re as daft as a chocolate teapot,” a Member of Her Majesties loyal opposition called out to me across the floor of the debating chamber. As a new MP, doing my utmost to assume the gravitas expected by the voters of my electorate, it shook me. I was in my first year and speaking in the house was still an extremely nerve wracking experience. “Come on,” the interjector shouted, “so far your speech reminds me of a Tupperware party.” I stumbled verbally. “Oh dear, is this all the Manawatu electorate can send to Wellington, 0oh dear, oh dear.”

“Order, order” growled the Speaker of the House at my assailant, who slunk back behind his newspaper.

It was a tough place and so it should be. This was where governments of the day make their case for the policies introduced and it is the role of Oppositions to rubbish it; they certainly had a good go at me that day in 1979.

Funnily enough after nine years there I can say that the place really works as a democratic forum. Winston Churchill’s epithet that “We must jaw jaw so that we won’t war war,” is very true. We almost lost all of his wonderful parliamentary words, wit and wisdom as he had told a colleague on the Western Front in 1915 that, “I am never going to have anything more to do with politics or politicians. When the war is over I shall confine myself entirely to writing and painting.”

In my view, a current and well known Congressman in the United States, takes the biscuit for fancy political and verbal footwork. Harry Reid, until recently a senior democrat, received a letter from one of his constituents about his, the Congressman’s, great – great uncle Remus Reid. It asked for confirmation that the notorious Remus had been a horse thief, sent to Montana Territorial Prison from whence he escaped and went on to rob the Montana Flyer six times and that he was caught by Pinkerton detectives [a famous bounty and private investigation agency], convicted and hanged in 1889.

The Congressman’s reply was a classic piece of political foot shuffling. It read, ”Remus Reid was a famous cowboy in the Montana Territory .....His business empire grew to include acquisition of valuable equestrian assets and intimate dealings with the Montana railroad. Beginning in 1883, he devoted several years of his life to government service, finally taking leave to resume his dealings with the railroad. In 1887, he was a key player in a vital investigation run by the renowned Pinkerton.” Don’t you just love it?

Of course the temptation to have fun with words is always there but they can backfire. I was invited to the annual opening of the Himitangi Nudist Club, situated in my electorate. I replied that,” I am unable to be with you on your auspicious opening day as I have something else on!” Someone must have done some research and found that I had been free, and wrote a letter to the local paper stating that I had been caught with my pants down, telling bare faced lies and that I should have fronted up.

Sometimes constituents could get extremely persistent and unbalanced with their obviously fruitless enquiries. I eventually wrote to one such, suggesting that he contact his local constabulary as obviously someone was using his name to write spurious letters to me; it didn’t work. Rob Muldoon told of a similar occurrence in his electorate of Tamaki. His constituent complained that someone in Wellington was aiming a ray gun at him, giving him terrible headaches, could the PM help? “Yes’ replied Rob Muldoon, “I’ll tell that gentleman to turn off the ray gun when I return to Wellington next Monday.” The headaches stopped a midday the following Monday.

Some new language stems from the political discourse carried on in our country and overseas. Recently I heard someone accuse a politician of using “Political Muffle;” a most expressive term. And a new class seems to have arisen in Europe, referred to by an English MP as ‘Europosh’. That says it all, although this knew noun was embellished with the additions, ‘stonking rich’.

Sometimes ones political philosophy is wrapped up in a few words you may use in public, and will stay with you for the rest of your political career, “Let me have my flag back” comes to mind for the co-leader of the Greens.

Sir Keith Holyoake, Prime Minister and later Governor General is quoted in Hansard as saying, in a debate on The Race Relations Bill, “I try to get as brown as I can in the summertime.” he got away with it then, he wouldn’t now, unless he was at the opening of the Himitangi Nudist Club. ]]> Michael Cox http://www.teawamutu.co.nz/community/entry.php?89-Chocolate-Teapot http://www.teawamutu.co.nz/community/entry.php?88-Immigration-and-Integration Wed, 16 Mar 2011 09:06:00 GMT “We must be mad, literally mad, as a nation to be permitting the annual flow of some 50,000 dependants......it is like watching a nation busily engaged in heaping up its own funeral pyre.” So said politician Enoch Powell in 1968; and his prophesies have more than come true. Today over a million... “We must be mad, literally mad, as a nation to be permitting the annual flow of some 50,000 dependants......it is like watching a nation busily engaged in heaping up its own funeral pyre.” So said politician Enoch Powell in 1968; and his prophesies have more than come true. Today over a million Indians are living in Birmingham alone. It one small East End area of London more than three quarters of all births in 2009 were to immigrant mothers.

I’m an immigrant. Some fifty odd years ago I choose New Zealand. It was the country for me and I’ve never regretted that decision. We are a country based on migration; even the Maori made a choice to stay on these islands for good, some eight hundred or so years ago.

Recently I learnt that the population of Auckland was 43% European [ie white!]. The rest are migrants from many places where the size of their population is making life uncomfortable. Nationwide the Asian population is 8% of the total, with the greatest proportion living in the Auckland area. I personally welcome such a strong mixture of cultures and hope that their strong work ethic increases the economic growth of the
area; but there appears to be very little merging of the races in the short term. German Chancellor Angela Merkel recently said that in her country “multi-culturism has failed utterly.” She added, “It is an illusion that Germans and foreign workers can live happily side by side.” I believe she is right. Her problem is that being part of the European Union means that the flow of migrants cannot be controlled. Their most recent census showed that 3.5
million Turkish people live in Germany today; and they ain’t going back home and definitely aren’t integrating.

Today’s official figures in the UK show that between four and a half and five million people from ethnic minority groups live there and this doesn’t take into account the estimated 600,000 illegal immigrants. Some figures show that three quarter of immigrants claim welfare benefits within half a year of arrival and who can blame them? If you can substantially increase your standard of living by crossing borders, why not do it? But when
you have over 400 people living in every square kilometre of the UK compared to fewer than 100 in France, which has pretty much the same population and are much tougher on immigration, you start feeling the pinch. If you cannot control this growth, then the political system will do it for you. The growth in the far right and probably fascist British National Party in recent years is caused by the threat immigrants pose to the incumbents, their jobs,
their homes and their way of life.

With the uprising of so called ‘people power’ in the northern states of Africa in recent weeks, the flow of small boats crossing the Mediterranean Sea has reached armada proportions. The long coastlines of Italy and France and small islands in between, make easy landings for these desperate people. The Italian government have applied to the EU to assist them in handling the invasion. One wonders what help the EU can give if it can’t handle its own problems.

In New Zealand we are still at a stage where we welcome a steady flow of immigrants. One hopes that they will replace some of the skills being lost to Australia. It will be interesting to see how many people from Christchurch will find their way across the Tasman to new jobs in ‘the lucky country’ in the next few months. Perhaps they should be shown some of those pictures of the Queensland flooding and bush fires from earlier years,
before they take the plunge.

The problems of Europe and the UK are not yet ours, but over the next fifty years we could well have to meet our own armadas of refugees, looking for a better life in our own fair country. We should prepare now.

I don’t want to sound like Enoch Powell who was heartily disliked in his day but he frequently told it as it was. He once said, “In politics it is more blessed not to take than to give,” but he certainly gave it when it came to immigration. “As I look ahead” he posed, “I am filled with foreboding. Like the Roman, I seem to see ‘the River Tiber foaming with much
blood.’ ” ]]> Michael Cox http://www.teawamutu.co.nz/community/entry.php?88-Immigration-and-Integration http://www.teawamutu.co.nz/community/entry.php?87-Hone-Harawira Tue, 08 Mar 2011 08:37:30 GMT I feel sorry for Hone. Being an agitator came with his mother’s milk. He knows nothing else and now he could lose his lucrative six figure job as an M.P. because of it. He’s never had to subject himself to the type of discipline that is required to be a team member in Parliament. He has always... I feel sorry for Hone. Being an agitator came with his mother’s milk. He knows nothing else and now he could lose his lucrative six figure job as an M.P. because of it.

He’s never had to subject himself to the type of discipline that is required to be a team member in Parliament. He has always had his mother’s vitriolic words being poured into his ear like the wicked witch from the north; ”I’ll hold John’s hand and you kick him in the political slats, or better still get you cussie bro to do it for you;” no wonder he sometimes looks bewildered at the responses that his self serving outbursts provoke, he
knows no better.

I have always had a great deal of time for his boss, Doctor Peta Sharples. He is one of nature’s ‘doers’. In the mid nineties he discovered that it would be against the law and indeed racist in the extreme to insist that the majority of employees at a Maori owned casino he was backing, should be Maori. I was a Trustee of the Casino Control Authority at the time and he and I talked about his problem. “If you want your Maori youngsters to
get the majority of the six or seven hundred jobs that would emanate from an Auckland Casino,” I told him, “you must make sure that they are the best applicants.” He agreed and said he could get hold of some cash to train his Maoris to ‘be the best’. His group didn’t win the Auckland licence but approximately 400 of the 450 young Maoris that had been through his training program were given jobs in the new Harrah’s Sky Casino, based purely on their
merit. Peta is that sort of man, he just does things.

When you look at Hone Harawira’s CV you see nothing positive like that in his past. Indeed the majority of his biographical notes on google refer to his roles in stirring up, putting down, fighting others, organising demonstrations and his violent and aggressive behaviour. He credits his Mother, Titiwhai Harawira, that well known activist herself, for his attitudes[he calls them principals], and he’s probably correct. I cannot find one activity
where he has worked to provide something positive for his people; he seems to have spent most of his life ‘knocking things down’. He is the antithesis of Peta Sharples; no wonder they find it difficult to work together.

If you compare him to an average Member of Parliament, you’ll find some stark differences. Hands up who’s heard of Jo Goodhew MP; not too many I’ll be bound, but she is far closer to the effective people’s representative that voters want than Hone could ever be. She is from the South Island and has always worked solidly in her area. She is a registered nurse and former tutor in Health Sciences. She was a former Plunket branch
chairperson, on the local school board of trustees, involved with Victim Support and an official of the Young Farmers Club in her home town of Timaru. She is a quiet ‘doer’, and yes she is an agitator for the things she believes in; nothing vicious or aggressive in her methods, just working with groups to get things done. Nothing earth shattering about Jo Goodhew, but a good representative, who will work together with her fellow party
members to progress their views and aspirations.

So where does poor old Hone go now. At the time of writing his membership of the Maori party is still unclear and my pick is they’ll try to put sticking tape on the scars until his next outburst. The media love him of course; he gives us lots of copy. But if he is seduced by straw polls to go down the track of political independence, can I suggest he looks at the record of those that have gone before. Although W. Peters looks on at his performance as
if he is some love child from his past, he’ll not help Hone when the chips are down. Maybe he believes what his Tai Tokerau electorate committee tell him; beware Hone, they are enjoying the reflection from your political solar flares, but in my experience don’t represent what your local voters will do on November 26th this year. A good replacement Maori Party candidate and a Labour one nipping at his or her heals will erode all those lovely votes that
you currently fool yourself into thinking you have some sort of mortgage over.

Hone, you could be back in the Northland wilderness this next Christmas, shouting and squealing, but with a very diminished following and an even smaller Christmas stocking. ]]> Michael Cox http://www.teawamutu.co.nz/community/entry.php?87-Hone-Harawira http://www.teawamutu.co.nz/community/entry.php?86-Weddings Sun, 06 Mar 2011 07:41:33 GMT This six feet of testosterone, swathed in a grey morning suit that fitted too well to be a hired job, strolled confidently to the door of the church, approached me as an usher and asked where he should be seated. “Are you a friend of the bride or groom?” I asked. “Well actually I’ve been very... This six feet of testosterone, swathed in a grey morning suit that fitted too well to be a hired job, strolled confidently to the door of the church, approached me as an usher and asked where he should be seated. “Are you a friend of the bride or groom?” I asked. “Well actually I’ve been very intimate with both of them in my time, “he answered without the trace of a smile. “Well,” said I, wondering how to cope with this revelation, “ then I suggest you sit on the bride’s side of the church, and please, when the vicar asks whether there is any cause or just impediment why these two should not be married in the sight of God, please keep your gob shut.” He half smiled his acquiescence and sartorially made his way to the back row. That marriage lasted fifteen years before the groom finally bowed to his genetic homosexuality and moved out of the family home and into an apartment with his long time secret lover Henry.

I’ve attended many weddings, even a couple of my own, and have at times wanted to shout out ‘Please don’t do it, it feels all wrong.” Of course one doesn’t, and watches from the sideline as the inevitable bad match follows it course towards separation and divorce, with all the pain and horror that accompanies that action.

And then there are the good ones, the ones where you just want to shout out, “Do it, it all feels really good between you.” Recently I attended one of these and had a complete ball, together with all the other eighty or so guests. We left with smiles on our faces.

As wedding went it had all the normal trappings one expects nowadays. The service was written by the two main characters; the ’breakfast’ was held at one of those great locations New Zealand does so well; an old farmhouse with other catering bits attached, a great team of providers and hosts who seemed to enjoy the occasion as much as the guests. The ubiquitous photographer was there, who, if you let them, would hijack the whole occasion so that they obtained shots of every possible combination of guests family and even the family pets if available. {Jenny you were perfect for the occasion}.

But there was a catalyst for this great wedding; it was the bride and groom. They are both happy being unremarkable, and are lovely people. They met over the internet and are both in their late thirties to early forties. Both are solid hard working professionals. Their wide and gregarious network of friends was the remarkable factor. It gave one of the best clues as to why this wedding was such a success. They came from all over the world; some were surprise visits which set the tears flowing between these old friends; some put their lives on the line and drove their vehicles through floodwaters caused by cyclone Wilma’s fury. All had to be at this wedding, the wedding that must not be missed. They were all friends and relations who expressed their love and devotion to this young[ish] couple who met in front of us to make their personal promises and vows. Their smiles as the speeches were given were not the obligatory baring of teeth, but came from within, from the eyes and creases of those faces. They were smiles saying, “Yes, love you both to bits, go for it!” One modern feature was the preponderance of babies and under three year olds present, sure proof that all their thirty year old friends are starting families later nowadays. They were under tables, being breast fed, pushing chocolate wedding cake in as fast as possible, and making sure that the special wedding clothes would only be fit for one outing. The best man was a woman [who gave one of the best crafted wedding speeches I’ve ever listened to], and the bride’s father sang a solo in the church and then substituted his daughter’s name with her younger sisters in his speech of congratulation; he obviously loved them both
dearly.

Yes, it was a great wedding and now the young[ish] couple are off cycling around the South Island for a honeymoon; a little piece of all of us went with them. ]]> Michael Cox http://www.teawamutu.co.nz/community/entry.php?86-Weddings http://www.teawamutu.co.nz/community/entry.php?84-Name-Awareness Wed, 01 Dec 2010 23:01:53 GMT "My observation about politics is that it falls into two groups. The boys in politics are those individuals who want position in order to be something; the men in politics are those who want position in order to do something."So said a gentleman called Eric Sevareid in the 1960s. From my perspective of observing politicians over the last thirty years from the inside and on the periphery of the game, he had it about right. Many of us, politician or not, just want to be identified, to be noticed, to have our fifteen minutes in the sun.

Its' all about name awareness; politicians even measure this factor in their political polling. If your name awareness is above 50% and for all the right reasons, your monica is more likely to be ticked at the ballot box by the fickle electors, than not.

The Waipa District suffers from a distinct lack of name awareness. If people ask me where I come from I'm more likely to answer 'Oh, the Waikato' or 'just south of Hamilton'; never 'Waipa'. People just wouldn't know what I was talking about and likely to ask 'is that in the North or South Island?' Of course we do try to be noticed and people driving through our beautiful part of the country nestled between the mountains of Maungatautari and Pirongia will read the signs proclaiming that they are now in 'Waipa, the home of champions'; but even that doesn't quite work. It really needs something more, some standout features and I avoid that much over used and abused term 'icon'. Well, the good news is that in the next decade we will have in place three outstanding features that will put Waipa on peoples personal maps; a place to visit, a place to enjoy, a place to remember.

The first of these special places will be viewed by over eighty million people in November this year when the World Rowing Championships' are held on and at Karapiro. This fantastic man -made lake with its new water sports facilities will match anything they can produce on the Thames at Henley or Lucerne on Lake Geneva. This event will give
Karapiro a flying start as one of the worlds' best and exciting places for such activities.

The second Waipa special place is entirely natural, with some driven and magic people having a vision and simply 'doing it'. I refer to Maungatautari Ecological Island. By erecting forty seven kilometres of pest proof fence around the bush covering this mountain, they have brought the area back to where it was before we sadly introduced predators who wrecked the natural flora and fauna. It is on the verge of being one of the worlds' very special places; a place to see nature as it was three hundred years ago and it is right in the middle of Waipa.

The third special place I've left until the last because it is still just a dream, just a concept, just a picture of a building that, when it is completed, will turn many heads.

Another reason for leaving it as my third 'very special place' is because I've a vested interest in project, being one of the many people who have driven the new ' Te Awamutu Museum and Theatre Complex' to its present stage. If you haven't seen the magnificent concept designs by world ranking New Zealand architects Warren and Mahoney, then please try to, it is a real 'hum dinger'. It will be up there with their earlier designs, Christchurch Town Hall, and Michael Fowler Centre in Wellington. It will tell the stories of our European and Maori heritage and provide a venue for the arts, shows and entertainment events that tour the country. It is due to be completed by 2012 – 2013 and in my view completes the trio of magic moments available to our national and international visitors.

All three of these 'happenings' will give people who live here in this fantastic area of New Zealand a very real and proud reason to say "I'm from Waipa." ]]> Michael Cox http://www.teawamutu.co.nz/community/entry.php?84-Name-Awareness http://www.teawamutu.co.nz/community/entry.php?83-Why-stand-for-office Mon, 22 Nov 2010 01:07:24 GMT “People who enjoy sausages and respect the law [even local body bye laws] should
not watch either being made.”

Over the last weeks many New Zealanders will have thrown their hat into the local
body elections democratic ring, or as one of my erstwhile dyslexic colleagues excitedly put
it, “thrown their ring into the hat!” Either way they are in for a bruising and possibly exciting
trip. I have nothing but admiration for these people; they tower over the winging, Luddite
non active Pharisees who constantly carp from the sidelines about the slightest change to
their lives, but do stuff all about it!

Or am I being a little unfair; these people probably have one or more good
reasons for not entering the political fray. Possibly you have a good job that you would not
want to compromise by exposing yourself to the vagaries of local body political life. If there
are political factions in your local body possible you feel there is not one that exactly fits
your particular views; or maybe you couldn’t take on the opprobrium that goes with being
a ‘public figure’. After all a poll taken in the UK, just before the recent elections, showed that
90% of the population distrusted their politicians, who rank just above used car salesmen in
the ‘respect’ ratings. Or maybe you couldn’t put up with the intense scrutiny of your
personal life [what have you to hide?] that the position sometimes attracts, or possibly you
have a family who would rather you didn’t stand in the first place, because if you succeed it
would mean you’d be absent for many an evening at interminable meetings. You may have
decided that knocking on doors and asking your neighbours for their vote, and possibly
being rejected, is just too hard to bear.

So, whilst you may be attracted to serving as a local body representative and feel
that you would definitely do better than those already standing, you would prefer not
to put yourself to the test and face up to some or all of the above sacrifices and possible
embarrassments. Fair enough, but having put yourself through these mental hoops
and having come out of the other side of the process intact and free from any political
commitment, I’m sure you will have a far more sympathetic view of those mere mortals that
have ‘thrown whatever it is into the ring’.

Just think what you will be missing. Firstly you’ll not be able to share in the
weekly ‘get together’ council meetings with your duly elected peers, overseen by ‘His or
Her Worship’; not a term I’ve been able freely take into my lexicon, because I find I don’t
worship whomever sits draped in their civic bling bling ; Mr. or Mrs. Mayor will do. Don’t
get me wrong, in my experience these Mayors and groups of elected representatives are, in
the majority, lovely people and most are sincere in their endeavours. Some say very little at
these meetings, feeling that seconding the minutes is sufficient to justify ones presence and

honourarium. I call these lovely people the Caesars of local politics; they come, they go and
they pick up their cheque [veni vidi pocketus].

There are others of course who have plenty to say, especially when the press are
present. They’ll have saved up some earth shattering gem to get a head line, splurt it out
and then disappear back into their civic shells. Of course there are those around that table
who do a great job and really work their butts off and you don’t often read about them; I
have nothing but respect for these people.

I’ve found that in the financial debates any amount under $10,000 attracts an awful
lot of attention. It is an amount most average mortals are familiar with; it equates with
ones annual mortgage repayments, the value of that replacement second hand car you’d
love to purchase or the cost of keeping an offspring at Uni for the year. But when it comes
to
$1 million then the verbals dry up. For most people, and we are representatives after
all, presumably with an average IQ of one hundred, a million bucks is outside our normal
fiscal parameters. So voting for something in the millions attracts very little debate and
usually gets passed because no one wants to expose their lack of comprehension as to how
much a million dollars really is. If you test this by asking “how many ten thousand dollar
cheques would you need to make up one million dollars?” the answers will vary from “huh,
is this a trick question?” to “ten or ......maybe twenty.” When told there were one hundred,
ten thousand dollar cheques needed to make up a million dollars, there will be a sudden
interest in the goings on outside the window.

So there you go; just see what you’ve missed by not putting that nomination in. Oh
by the way, I have, once again. ]]> Michael Cox http://www.teawamutu.co.nz/community/entry.php?83-Why-stand-for-office http://www.teawamutu.co.nz/community/entry.php?79-Te-Awamutu-s-New-Museum-Project Fri, 27 Aug 2010 00:02:57 GMT "What in hell makes you think we need a new museum?" I’m sometimes asked by
the good people of Te Awamutu. I reply, "I have a gut feeling that it will be good for the
place," is not good enough to placate those who talk of white elephants and expensive
ones at that. Actually it will only cost Waipa District rate payers 1.3 cents per day each, but I
needed more facts to put meat on my gut feelings.

I went searching and first looked at that world famous structure the Guggenheim
Museum built in Bilbao, Spain in 1997. The pictures of this amazing building have an
arresting beauty. Someone described it as "a Moorish caravel vessel, straining to break
its' moorings, titanium clad sails already billowing in the wind." I wondered how that
person would describe the Warren and Mahoney designed Te Awamutu museum when it is
completed in 2015 – 2016?

Part of my 'gut feeling' is that it’ll do wonders for our town of 13,000; we need a
bit of an economic uplift. In Bilbao the residents now talk of the 'Guggenheim effect' and
point out that the new museum turned a fairly ordinary middle sized Spanish town into a
destination for one million people a year, about three times its population. Over the past
decade these visitors have spent three billion dollars or the equivalent of just under $9,000
per head of population. Wearing my councillors hat I noticed that the city authorities,
that is, the rate payers of Bilbao, received a boost from the museum activities of $520m
to their exchequer in the same ten year period. But the most lasting effect of the Bilbao
Guggenheim may be the least tangible one. Mr. Vidarte, the museums director, claims that
the psychological impact of the Museum on Bilbao's inhabitants has been just as important
as the tourist industry it created. "We recovered our self-esteem," he says. "Suddenly
Bilbaons felt it was possible to reverse our trajectory of industrial decline."

A Basque writer who lives in Bilbao agrees: "We saw the skeleton of the Guggenheim
take shape on the banks of our river, so shocking at first, and then we came to love it.
We are not Paris or London, but the facts that tourists visit us now has increased our self
regard. How others see our city has changed the way we see it. We have learned to look at
ourselves in a new light."

My research then took me closer to home, to New South Wales across the Tasman.
There, in Orange City, Bathurst and Dubbo it has been found that for every ten jobs in their
Museums and Performing Arts centres, 8.5 jobs were created in their towns, generating
over $9m in household income. They also estimated that the new facilities funded by Local
Governments in fact provide an economic return on their investment of $14m across the
region. I haven’t been able to get the percentage return on their investment so can only say
that this is in the positive. The Mayor of Dubbo, Allan Smith confirmed this by saying, "This study confirms that our recent investment of $27m over the past ten years has more
than just cultural benefits but adds real value to our community, both from the point of
view of the economy but also contributing to the great lifestyle available in our region."

So what will our new museum in Te Awamutu, with its extra ordinary structure, do
to our town? I hope it will replicate some of the exciting happenings from Bilbao, Dubbo and Orange and Bathurst. ]]> Michael Cox http://www.teawamutu.co.nz/community/entry.php?79-Te-Awamutu-s-New-Museum-Project http://www.teawamutu.co.nz/community/entry.php?78-The-Pope Sun, 08 Aug 2010 08:40:14 GMT "Will you accept God and renounce the devil and all his works?" a priest asked a man close to death. "Why would I upset either of them at this delicate stage of my life'" he wisely replied. What a pragmatic man, especially in times when religious fervour and debate can become so heated and vicious.

A couple of years ago I attended a matins service held in the Temple Church, off the Strand in London, onetime home of the Templers. I must admit I was more a tourist than an enthusiastic religious devote. In front of a congregation made up mainly by members of the Inner Temple law chambers, the Master, their rather quaint name for the Vicar, gave an erudite and forceful sermon slamming the Pope for his recent criticisms of the Muslim faith. "How can this Pope criticise the Muslims for their actions when he heads up the church that invoked the Inquisition?" I thought it was a good question. To give Pope Benedict XVI his due, in March 2000 he did attempt to atone and confess for the horrors of those terrible years under various 'Inquisitors'.

Recently he again had to give a pretty hefty 'mea culpa' to the people of Ireland for 'errors committed by the church's hierarchy.' He didn't exactly spell it out that hundreds of young Irish boys had been abused and sodomised by a whole phalanx of Roman Catholic priests. The vast majority of these robed miscreants were never brought to justice, but simply 'moved on' by their various compliant Bishops. In fact it appears to the average onlooker that the Roman Catholic Church has set up its' own government to rival the civil judicial institutions of the countries in which its priests serve. It doles out its own lenient, slap on the wrist punishments for their miserable crimes against our young people, instead of letting the Courts take their course.

In March this year a German journalist revealed damming information about the Pope. Apparently when he was serving as Archbishop Ratzinger in 1980 he personally authorised the soft punishment of 'being transferred to another district' to one of these abusive paedophile priests. In my view this drops Benedict XVI into the same pot with the rest of those Bishops who took these matters into their own hands. The abusive priest in question was eventually convicted for his sexual assaults against minors by Germany's judicial system.

I'm loath to quote from the Bible for I am not a member of any religious philosophy, club or sect, and secondly one can usually find another biblical quote which negates the first. But St.Mark's gospel spells out fairly clearly and succinctly what will happen to those who hurt children. I quote, "And whoever shall offend one of these little ones that believe in me, it is better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and he were cast into the sea." That seems pretty unequivocal and I'm sure most of the worlds' 1.2 billion Catholics would say amen and so be it, to that.

So we hear Pope Benedict is due to make a critical statement to his flock during a major meeting of his Church to celebrate the end of 'The Year of the Priest'. Indeed it may even be released before this article is printed. It will hopefully give some closure to this painful time in this huge and influential Church. Many of its' members do so much good in their communities. Therefore I hope that it will be something pretty earth shattering to undo all the doubt and harm that has occurred in this last decade.

I was amused by a quote I read recently in which a Catholic Diplomat in the nineteenth century was told that Napoleon would destroy the Catholic Church. He replied, "He will never succeed. We have not managed to do it ourselves." Well that may have been a prescient remark. Maybe they need a modern Martin Luther to get them on the straight and narrow again.

Indeed Pope Benedict XVI would be long remembered if he ignored those cosseted and aged advisers closest to him and announced that he was going to take immediate action on two major issues:

1. Remove the archaic fifth century demands of chastity from his priests.
2. Resign as Pope, considering himself too severely tainted by his own actions in not dealing correctly with the matter of abusive priests.

This article was originally published in the Waikato Times ]]> Michael Cox http://www.teawamutu.co.nz/community/entry.php?78-The-Pope http://www.teawamutu.co.nz/community/entry.php?70-Ghosts-of-Rugby-Past Sun, 06 Jun 2010 02:10:21 GMT He'd have been ninety seven this year, my Father. The term 'Dad' never seemed to fit into our relationship, as it does so easily with my children. I settled down to watch a close game of rugby and thought how much he'd have enjoyed today's presentation of the game. He died seventeen years ago. A thorough sportsman, I remember him discussing with a fellow patient on the day before he died, how the New Zealand batsmen should be playing the West Indian fast bowler Michael Holden; he disliked the then new term 'quickies' for the fast bowlers. "Turns an adjective into a noun," the former teacher growled.

I was alone and decided to have Father sitting next to me on the sofa; so that we could once again share the game of rugby we'd both enjoyed so much as young English men. He took me to see the 1953 All Blacks play Oxford at the Iffley Road ground; Bob Scott wowed us by kicking goals barefoot from the halfway mark.

My family are getting used to my aging vagaries and strange behaviour, so catching me alone, talking to my long dead Father wasn't going to bother them too much. Being at the Iffley Road ground watching the famous New Zealanders play was déjà vu for him; he'd played against the New Zealand Services XV 'All Blacks' on the same ground on 13th December 1945. Names like Stewart, Botting and Charley Porter come to mind.

He'd died the year the first Super Ten series was played and told me then that this was a huge change. "Goodbye to our type of game Mi," he'd ruefully commented. He was quite correct.

"So Father what do you think?" I asked him after sitting in silence for five minutes. "Fast isn't it," he answered, "and they all look six inches taller and look at their physiques!"

"They train a lot, especially in the gym; with weights and things," I tried to explain.

"I suppose so, if they don't have other jobs, they'd have plenty of time for that...." he mused; " and Mi, there seem to be a majority of Wakka Nathan's relations playing, not to put too fine a point on it, what was his nick name, the Black Panther wasn't it, loved watching his speed around the scrum"

"Yep, Father, and some of his relations that go way back to the Islands where Wakka's antecedents came from, you might have noticed a few Samoan and Tongan names."

"I suppose they get picked up from their schools as young prospects?' he asked, "does that cause any problems?" the former decile one headmaster queried.

"Yes and no Father,"

"Well make up your mind Mi, is it 'yes or 'no'?'

"Sorry, a new idiom that I've picked up, but yes there are problems because if a youngster finds that he's the right size, and is showing early rugby skills, he is told that he could be considered for a professional spot in one of the now fourteen Super Teams. You can imagine that any thought of completing his academic courses go out of the window."

"....bit like the USA University scholarships for promising sportsmen," he thought out loud, "I always thought that they should have been coupled with a parallel academic curriculum, but I suppose the 'big money' prevails eh?"

"....'fraid so Father, and in the end rugby is the loser. You remember people like Wilson Wineray and Chris Laidlaw; both had degrees alongside their rugby prowess. Well they used to give team talks to their colleagues about the cultural sights and events to view at their next games venue. So if they were leaving England for Paris say, the wonders of the Musee d'Orsay would be compared with the pictures they'd seen in London's National Gallery. Now that may seem a bit snobby, but now the only comparisons would be between the best nights clubs."

"Ah! but you're right Mi, because its' the 'thinkers' and 'trained brains' on the pitch who score the best tries,.... and oh look at that one.....what a magic movement that was; I've never seen anything like it....wow! So that shows you that innate skills and superb physical fitness can't be scoffed at.....golly that was amazing." I was glad I'd invited him to join me.

He loved it, my Father, the wing forward for the Oxfordshire XV 1945. As the game finished I asked if he would like to watch the New Zealand Women's XV play England......suddenly, with a faint "Oh no," he was gone. I love him still, my Father.

This article was originally published in the Waikato Times ]]> Michael Cox http://www.teawamutu.co.nz/community/entry.php?70-Ghosts-of-Rugby-Past http://www.teawamutu.co.nz/community/entry.php?61-Waikato-Super-Region Tue, 02 Mar 2010 10:53:10 GMT ‘With one bound he was by her side...she could feel his hot breath against her lacy negligee...’

Now that I’ve grabbed your attention let me tell you about the ‘one bound’ that happened on the first of January 2010. Suddenly we can feel the hot breath down our necks of this year’s local body elections and next years’ general election. Before we let these democratic events take their toll on our regions’ future we must have in place ‘a structure to decide what system of government will best suit the Waikato Region for the next 50 to 100 years’. If those words sound familiar they should, as they were the ‘guiding instruction’ given to the Commission of Inquiry into the Auckland Super City.

We need a similar specific Commission in place right now. With it ‘in situ’ we can leap frog this years’ local body election and all the petty politics that I’m sure will be played by local body aspirants who fear that they be going to lose their jobs with the introduction of a ‘Super Region’. Such a Commission would be charged with reporting to central government in 2011, probably just before the general election. This would give the incoming government an unfettered opportunity to put the right processes into place for the Waikato. If you have a feeling of ‘déjà vu’ you should, because it was what the previous Labour administration did to Auckland. In my view it has worked well and has removed this critical process away from the fraught times of elections.

One could ask ‘why not let current local body members decide what should happen?’ Well I’ve watched and indeed taken part is this alarming ‘slow waltz’ of decision making over the last two years, and I’m not impressed with the process. It is set up to fail. The Mayors of Hamilton and Waipa, and up to this point I’ve counted them as personal friends, are both consensual politicians. Their suggestion of an amalgamation has all the hall marks of a half cocked consensus that will never occur. If I read it correctly, this amalgamation was to have included Waikato, but obviously no one had told the Mayor of that district, who said ‘an amalgamation had not even been discussed.’ I’m also not aware that any details for such an amalgamation have ever been discussed by the Waipa District Council, and I am a member of that august body. Collectively the Mayors and Councillors will, in my view, never be able to ‘grab this nettle’; the best we can expect is a ponderous political ‘kick for touch’. And, just as an afterthought, what about all those smaller Councils who presumably haven’t been consulted about amalgamations, surely they should be brought into the Super Region loop to share the benefits of such a move.

Many of the local Members of Parliament are part of the current Government, so perhaps they should show some leadership on this. But that is not how it works. I have been at meetings with these honourable people and they all have personal agendas on this issue. Quite obviously the MP for the marginal seat of Hamilton West is going to see it through quite different spectacles than the comparatively safe MP for Matamata Piako.

So, almost by default, it has to be a central government decision, and so it should be. After all the Waikato area is one of the more productive wealth producers of New Zealand and therefore needs central government input. Therefore it is behoves John Key and his colleagues in our government to follow the proven process of putting an independent group of commissioners into place with the sole instruction of ‘Recommending a system of local government that will best suit the whole Waikato region for the next 50 to 100 years.’

Just a couple of further suggestions, no former local or central government politicians please; let them be, in their Chancellors robes and UN offices. Stick, if no one else jumps out of the woodwork, with the proven team of Justice Peter Salmon as chair. I remember working with him and thinking he had the steely grin and resolve of a crocodile. Another could be former Auckland commissioner Margaret Bazley; she has a wonderfully proven record of making correct and hard decisions. Economist Peter McKinley would provide some local input and could bring to bear his Auckland Commission advisory skills. A proven businessman and farmer such as John Storey from Te Awamutu may bring a balanced and sensible voice to the table.

As we start this New Year I believe this is the most important decision that can be made on our behalf – so just ‘do it' please Mr. Key

Apropos the lacy negligee....I’m sure I read that in a Mills and Boon book many years ago, but have reached an age where I’m blowed if I can remember how it finished!

This article was originally published in the Waikato Times ]]> Michael Cox http://www.teawamutu.co.nz/community/entry.php?61-Waikato-Super-Region http://www.teawamutu.co.nz/community/entry.php?57-Political-Humour Mon, 25 Jan 2010 03:51:44 GMT Asked what qualities a politician required, Winston Churchill replied, "The ability to foretell what is going to happen tomorrow, next week, next month, and next year. And to have the ability afterwards to explain why it didn’t happen."

One of the few joys of being a member of the House of Representatives was the repartee and wit. I don’t think it happens so much nowadays, but I remember it well. It was Labour Prime Minister, David Lange's main tool. A certain 'born again' back bencher, who really didn’t want anyone to enjoy life, was holding forth in the debating chamber of the House of Representatives about the evil of liqueur. He stood, with one hand in his pocket and in the other he brandished a bottle of whiskey. "In my hand I hold the root of all evil," he lectured his fellow MPs. David Lange looked up from his desk where he was signing letters and interjected, "Which hand?" The House roared its approval and the speech collapsed.

Another Prime Minister, Robert Muldoon, gave us new MPs some heady advice which remains with me:

· If in doubt mumble
· Patriotism is the last refuge of scoundrels.
· Consistency is the last refuge of idiots.
· and you’ll be drinking twice as much at the end of your first three years than you are consuming now.

He also told us that the then current TV series of YES MINISTER is a good yard stick. "The public think it is a comedy; Politicians see it as a documentary and the Public Service think it is a training video."

Maori wit often came to the fore. Sir Doug Kidd, onetime Minister of Maori Affairs, reported that "After the tapu lifting ceremony at the famous Te Maori exhibition in the Metropolitan Art Museum of New York, a local notable asked one of the koamutua what the Maoris called New Zealand before the Europeans arrived. Quick as a flash the koamutua answered 'OURS'".

He further regaled us with another amusing incident. "At a ceremony celebrating the Tricentenial of Abel Tasman’s visit to Golden Bay various speakers went on about how Tasman had discovered New Zealand. When it came to his turn that able Maori leader, Sir Tipene O’Regan said, with a hint of a smile, 'We didn’t know we were lost.' "

During debates in the House the quick and sometimes regretted interjections spill out but nevertheless are recorded in Hansard; some examples:

· Hon. Paul Swain MP: "I must be truthful with the House..."

Hon. Richard Prebble: "Why break the habit of as lifetime?"

· Member: "Something passed through my mind..."

Another Member: "There is nothing to stop it."

There are quick fire exchanges which rapidly leave the member on his or her feet completely lost.

The Hon. John Luxton, MP for Matamata followed his father Jack, and between them held the seat with a huge majority for decades. One day an opposition questioner moving in on John, as he fancied, for the kill, prefaced his question with an angry ---“Will the Minister resign if ... [what ever it was]...

Hon. Richard Prebble MP, "He can’t resign, he inherited the seat."

Rt.Hon David Lange, "Then, will he abdicate?" I don’t think the question was answered.

Sarcasm can be a debating tool, but like other devices is prone to be pricked by the quick witted. Labour Health opposition spokesperson Lianne Dalziell poured sarcasm over the pharmaceutical industry. “What are the great advances in their industry this year?” she asked, “a pill for obesity; a pill for baldness and a pill for male impotence.”

Labour’s Rt. Hon Mike Moore MP, “I’ll have one of each please.” If looks could kill, Mike was dead.

Closer to home The Honourable Katherine O’Regan MP for Waipa was trying to ask a question, but was stopped several times from doing so by other members taking frequent, and in her view, pointless ‘points of order’ with the Speaker, creating chaos. Finally she was asked to put her question and in her frustration prefaced it with the statement that, “If they were my children I’d spank their bottoms!”The male members of the House erupted with calls of “Me first!”

“Order, order ‘” called a grinning Mr. Speaker.

Winston Churchill was a ‘master of the words’ in the House of Commons, so I give him the first and the final words. He enjoyed attacking Clement Attlee, the man who took the Prime Ministership away from him in 1945 with such withering comments as, “He is a sheep in sheep’s clothing,” and “He is a modest man who has a good deal to be modest about.”

The House is not a place for the feint hearted.


This article was originally published in the Waikato Times ]]> Michael Cox http://www.teawamutu.co.nz/community/entry.php?57-Political-Humour