Timing

I should have kept my powder dry last evening because I'm left with very little worthy of comment this morning. The purveyor of nothing but the truth yields very slim pickings on the first day of spring. The cacophony of censure over the recent conduct of the government continues for the time being but it will die down a bit over the next couple of days as I intimated last night. 81% of Labour supporters think that Labour should pay the election rort money back and, of the remaining 19%, 13% think passing retrospective legislation to make the spending all right is OK. I assume the missing 6% have a skerrick of common decency left in them. This nearly one fifth of a sample are presumably the same sort of peple who were interviewed on the box last night opining that Phillip Field was a good bloke and was being picked on. There really is no hope left for this place if these people are allowed to vote and procreate.

Whether you are stroking a ball through the covers, performing stand up comedy or running a country timing is everything and unfortunately the timing of all this entirely laudable assault on the bastions of power is all wrong. The next election is two years away and the headmistress et al can, and will, hang on for the duration. Their hope, and this founded on an entirely reasonable expectation, is that the great unwashed will have forgotten about all this by the time it comes to trot down to the primary school after golf one Saturday morning. The recent polls that give all right minded people such short term hope still rate old crooked face as preferred Prime Minister by the length of the straight - this in spite of all the faecal material coming out of the opposition howitzers. Apparently incumbents always poll better than wannabees - but by 2 to 1? The trick now is to keep the current level of public disapproval at the current level for two years. A very big ask indeed.

The police drivers in Timaru get their convictions quashed - not many naysayers there I would imagine. What a top way of spending my tax payer's dollar that all was. And who walks away from it all as if nothing had happened? The person without a Y chromosome sitting in the back seat at the time. I don't like her one little bit, in case you were wondering.

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