Day 35
PP Story 1

I'm trying to get on to writing about my visit to the Parliament Protest. It's not particularly easy.

But, you don't have a chance to know unless I tell you the way it is.

I've promised Blair a low down on the Counterspin Goss, which isn't much, but I'm doing my best to interest the journos, our little minority freaks.

These are not normal times. Everywhere I go, people admit to me that they feel overwhelmed by this government.

If my story seems convoluted - that's because you're a complicated person.

 

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My first thought about the PP was that I had to go to comfort my fellow Kiwis. This occurred on day five(?) - the first bout of police brutality.

On the flight to Wellington I had very quick thinks.
Just going to give a few hugs is not my complete style.
There had to be a reason.

I concocted a song, suitable for crowd singing/chanting. It was designed to grab the attention of media, in the hope that it would be broadcast everywhere. It might have then gotten its lucky break and gone into every home and playground and workplace. The purpose - to humiliate Mallard so that he'd resign.

That was the first step. Following that, we would have started on her.

I was disturbed by the horse float nasty satire on the grounds. That's the only thing I saw that was off. I was there for two days and nights. I remember saying to somebody that this item should be removed.

As soon as I arrived I made my way to the 'stage'. Matiu Te Huki (the Rainbow Warrior) was singing. I danced my way onto the stage and asked him mid song if I could have a turn, as I had an immense sense of urgency. He nodded in the affirmative.

I didn't know who Matiu was at that time. I didn't know I was interrupting one of our latest sprung up spiritual gurus. In the months following, I noticed (website and Facebook) that he began selling his hugs and at some stage was accused of rape. He is openly non monogamous.

I waited alongside Matiu for quite a while. Then, he finished and snubbed me. He was soon busy with hugging one of the dancers.

I got the phone contact of Claire Deeks (Voices for Freedom) from the tent. There was kind of an opportunity to get my name on the speakers list, I think, but Matiu's attitude had cut me down. It was a sensory overload situation. Those that weren't especially active were in chill out mode. I couldn't find anybody to hear of a plan of serious meaning.

The suburbs presented differently. These real estate spots contained Kiwis like you and I. Even so, it all wasn't quite me, and I think most of us felt that way. We were all there because the Kiwi spirit called. Each one was a perfect little leader in his own right, including the few children.

Clair's number was on my hand until the second day but I couldn't bring myself to make contact. I was unsure about who the various groups were and what they represented beyond our collective stance that the mandates must end. This was our undeniable strength. I didn't witness any divergence from this common goal from anybody. Here we all were with one mind about the mandates that nobody could have drilled into us. This was our Kiwi spirit at work.

 

There were regular warnings of infiltration. At one stage I felt that others might even be looking upon me in that manner. It was light hearted banter, but the dangers were real. This was something I had thought about on my flight up. I had decided that I would trust everybody and just love. I think everybody had taken the same posture. It was the first worldly war I have experienced of being united with a group outside of my family.

The only gripe I felt from another person was a man who spoke sympathetically toward Mallard, saying that everyone deserves a second chance. I remember thinking that that dude probably has bad things in his own past for which he has always excused himself.

 

I met a lady who grew up in her home town. She told me that she was a very loose youth, all over the place.

 

The camp was clean.
Everything was pleasant.
The men assured the women that they were constantly watchful for Police turning.
We were all very kind to our Police.

I met a lawyer whose group assured me that there were lawyers working hard in the background. In their strong way they let me know that there was nothing I could possible do. This also bugged me. I gave them a letter I had prepared at home. Something about me possibly being the only one who knows how to combat her. Oh, funny - well it would be if I still didn't wonder this, months later. 

 

Over the course of the hours, as I experienced our combined efforts, I could tell that the crowd was not in the right frame of mind for my idea.
The crowd neither loved and accepted me enough to listen to me, nor hated me enough to want to hear me out for a humiliation - which of course, I was up for. I hadn't gone all that way for nothing.

I remember washing off Clair's number and thinking that was that.

But I couldn't go home without having done my best.
And there was nothing else for me to stay for.

After my first night I walked to the Wellington Police Station. I asked to speak with Corrie Parnell the Superintendent. He had been on media bemoaning Mallard's behaviour. I had in mind to thank him for his efforts to police by consent (weak, I know, but I wasn't going to point that out) and to suggest he allow me to get alongside his team. Then, the media would take note and my idea might take off.

I waited more than an hour and was told that I wouldn't get to see Parnell - but I could tell that I was being taken seriously by the woman sergeant all the same. I had the impression that she was making inroads into Parnell on my behalf. Sometimes she went away to ask. We chatted quite a bit and she brought me a cup of tea. I knew it was a long shot, but was surprised at how close I felt I was getting. After all, Parnell is just a man with feelings too.
But then the woman unexpectedly brought out a heavy.

There was no sign anywhere saying that papers must be seen in order to be in the building, and I hadn't been asked previously. I had simply been sitting there.

Blair, bear in mind that you do not know my covid jab status, and neither do our Police. You don't know what I think about the health factors of covid and our various actions - except for what I provided for you to publish.

The sergeant impatiently demanded that I tell him why I wanted to see Parnell. I quietly said he was intimidating and stated that I had already made it clear to staff that the message was only for me to deliver to Parnell.

He then changed tack, and it was sudden and shocking. The thug rudely fore played with saying that I didn't have to answer, then asked whether I had received my two jabs (yes, he used that word 'jabs', not vaccine), followed by a demand that I leave the building. (Police still don't know to this day my health record, do they? should they?)

I remained passively sitting on my seat. He called me a derogatory name then suddenly lunged. He grabbed my arms with squeezing fingers and I was then on the floor on my back, my belongings scattered off my lap.  Following this there were some sort of last right words spoken over me - perhaps I largely switched off because it reminded me of Church nonsense - and I was then dragged out by two men and dumped on the steps outside.

The next morning at the protest, I was spoken to by a man whom I was certain was an agent. He was soooooo nice, and I was very sleep deprived. He was recording me with a pen like device and tried to get me sympathising with Police. We both knew, and I chatted to him like I would anybody. He felt like my fellow Kiwi.

My particular section of the camp made a great effort to get me to the airport. A tightly wedged in truck was released, with fine tuned movements like children with dinkies and cardboard scraps, and I rode in style. It's a good thing that my new friend didn't sound his horn constantly on the way like I suggested.

I have wonderful memories of our Kiwi spirit. This protest, and all the other protests, are of great historical significance. I hope we always remind each other of this.

New Zealanders deserve that we get a lot of mileage out of our 2022 Parliament Protest.

It was my first protest, and will probably be my last unless I become the mayor.

If so, I've got some useful ideas up my sleeve.

But I still haven't gotten on to what I think of Hannah and Kelvyn.

Stay tuned.
Kelvyn was quite a big part of my PP experience. By that I mean my personal nutting out of what this was all about and where to from here.

Stuff just doesn't think. It's as though they reckon all us little aums spend all day in each other's pockets. This minority that is wrecking our nation have little concept of reality.
The mentally ill are running our country and the thugs love it.
This must stop.
I hope Paula Penfold gets in big trouble.
We need this.
We need to be able to cope with seeing our wrongdoers, and those who dream on our dime, brought to account. Otherwise, we will never get representatives of ordinary non elitist Kiwis into Parliament, and we will be the generation to blame for allowing anarchy to overtake New Zealand.