Sorry, chaps and chapesses, for the lack of blogging recently. I have an excuse: I have been mad. I will explain sooner or later.
Meanwhile, kudos to Dave Crampton for breaking news about Bob McCoskrie, who suffered a garden makeover: four women dressed in black stuck around 1000 knives in his front lawn. Further investigation by the MSM reveals that the knives were plastic, while Dave followed his scoop with an apology from the women in black.
I would have loved to have been a fly on the garden wall when the McCroskies returned from their trip. How did they react? "Oh my gosh, darling, we've had conceptual artists," perhaps. But notice how quickly McCroskie takes advantage of the situation, blaming the EFA for revealing his address (welcome to New Zealand, Bob, where everyone knows where everyone else lives). And what of the neighbours, who "said they had seen four women dressed in black on his lawn, but thought they were putting candles out?" Does that sort of thing happen so often as to be unremarkable, du côté de chez McCroskie?
And what sort of woman dresses in black and sticks plastic knives in a lawn? And where can I meet one? Do these people have funding from Creative New Zealand? Does Et Al have anything to do with this? Is this the work of passive-aggressive ninja assassins? Or are they just too politically correct to use real knives?
I think we should be told.