Friday, November 09, 2007
There are no terrorists in New Zealand
So, apparently NOT terrorists after all; conclusion of police after 25 day of holding activists in jail. Quelle surprise. And now, Iti's lawyers announce that the police should prepare themselves to be sued... The police are constantly under fire, criticised for the way that they deal with things... And all in all, this does seem like the remarkably far fetched and lurid dreams of someone, high up, who hopes for something more exciting in the day to day execution of his job.
But over the last few years I've worked hard at trying not to have too much of an opinion - hate being wrong - and so I'm reserving a fair amount of judgement.
I met the Boy for coffee and he was in a terrible mood. I have no idea why he decided to subject me to his sulk. He wouldn't let me touch his ratty little dirty Sanchez Movember moustache either. [I just Wikipedia-d the term "Dirty Sanchez" and I'd like to clarify that this is how the Boy refers to it. I am merely referencing him verbatim here. And, I'm quite disturbed personally. I'm a nice girl. I don't know anything about that kind of behaviour]
Those things tickle too. I remember being a little girl and getting a kiss from my Uncle Clive who had a big fuck off moustache and a mullet and always smelt like cigars and never wore socks. It tickled my cheeks. Kind of itchy, makes you want to sneeze.
Tagged with
angst
,
coffee
,
cynicism
,
moustaches
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