Uncle Ernie: Our Brave Boys In Blue

Now the Urewera trouble is over, it’s time we all said a big thank you to our constabulary for keeping us safe from the terrifying prospect of people playing with guns in an irresponsible manner who aren’t all white.

I heard the police wanted to charge the lot of them with being terrorists, so the four people they convicted in the end are bloody lucky to get such light sentences. Those terrorists are such a nuisance in other parts of the world, hijacking planes and blowing themselves up, and I can’t think of anything ruder than exploding yourself in a crowded place without asking permission first. It’s just another sign that society has gone to the dogs.

But when it comes to terrorism we’re usually dealing with foreigners, and I’ve always found foreigners to be insufferably rude and pushy.

I remember how awful the people were when I went on my only trip across the seas. It used to be that when you went into a cafe and ordered coffee the only questions they asked you were “black or white?” and “how many sugars?” Now there’s more types of coffee then there are bloody Chinese running my local shopping mall, and I reckon this coffee thing is all a wily scheme invented by those foreigners to take more money off me.

That’s why I’ll never return to Waiheke Island.

The police took a lot of criticism over this whole Urewera business, so it’s nice to see them finally vindicated. For the past four years the cops have had to listen as one liberal whiner after another took aim at them. I have always found the police a delight to deal with, so I have no doubt they behaved with restraint and respect during the Urewera raids. But then they always do. The so-called experts like to climb into the cops whenever they can, but the boys in blue do a great job and keep the streets safe for law-abiding white people like me.

Occasionally the system lets us down, and leads to people who deserve the full penalty of the law escaping justice. When that happens everyone seems to attack the poor police officer who was only doing his job.  I only have to think back to the fiasco around the Arthur Thomas case. I’ve always believed Thomas was as guilty as sin, and that he got lucky when he found a muddle-headed politician to give him a pardon. I’ve no idea what Thomas was actually guilty of, but everyone’s got something to hide, so he may as well have copped his punishment. I don’t blame the police for planting evidence in the Thomas case, because they wouldn’t need to go to such ridiculous lengths if only judges treated them with more respect. For goodness sakes, if a police officer says a man’s guilty of a crime, why would he say that unless it’s true? I would trust the word of my local hard-working bobby over scientific evidence and the laws of physics any day.

I’ve heard all sorts of rubbish claims about policemen pointing guns at women and children during the Urewera raids, but even if it’s true I wouldn’t blame the cops for a moment. You have to keep your eye on kids, because if you don’t you can be sure the little buggers will make you pay. Before you know it they’ve walked all over your lawn, stomped on your flower beds, stolen your fruit, and hollered blue murder because you gave them a well-deserved clip round the ear.

Nowadays, though, you can’t even get your whip out before some lad’s father’s complaining to the local police. I don’t blame the cops when they respond to these ridiculous complaints, because they’re just upholding the absurd laws we now have, but I tell you something: all this PC carry-on about the rights of children has turned my stomach.

When I was growing up there wasn’t time for any of that human rights nonsense. We knew our place in the world and were better and stronger as a family. I never complained when my old man took the belt to me, because if I had he’d have belted me even harder. That taught me at an early age that you’ve no business standing up for yourself, and that you’re better off just taking what comes.  Society works because we respect the rights of those with bigger and better weapons than us.

And that weekly thrashing by my father, just before he stepped into the pulpit to give his Sunday morning sermon, made me a better man. It really wasn’t so bad, and the flogging in the back yard was always a welcome opportunity to get some fresh air after having spent the rest of the week locked in the family cellar chained to the wall.

That Iti chap was the cause of all this trouble in the hills, so I’m not surprised the man got a jail term. I make it a rule in life never to trust a man with tattoos, so in my opinion the court was right to convict him. The death penalty was sadly never an option for the judge, although death’s probably too good for someone who looks different to me and challenges my meek acceptance of traditional authority.

Now the trial is over it’s time for the four people sentenced to take their punishment and stop complaining like old women. Nobody has any business running around the woods with guns and being a nuisance to others, unless they’re hunters out shooting each other by accident.