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March 4, 2008 | by  | in Online Only |
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A Matter of National Security

I like to lurk around the halls of Parliament. My press pass gets me most places where all you people can’t get to unless it is an open day. Sometimes the security staff stop me and ask me what I am doing. I simply show them my pass and they let me keep wandering.

But this got me thinking… most of the security staff around Parliament are between the ages of 50 and death. There is not much between me and the slaughter of innocent politicians.It surprises me the seeming lack of a security presence on Parliament grounds. We could arm the current staff with handguns. But this would become a problem of indemnity in the case of fractured arthritic joints after the discharge of said fire arm. Tasers could be provided. But the electrical currents might interfere with their pacemakers. All this makes me think that either these old men are highly trained experts in all forms of martial arts, that manage to disguise their amazing Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon type powers behind a toothless smile, or they are just a front for a scarier, meaner, leaner, younger task force of trained killers.

Thought experiment 1)

I walk into parliament with my pass, they don’t check it, and when I go to watch question time I don’t have to swipe it. Underneath my Giorgio Armani imitation jacket I picked up in China I am carrying two pistols, a large Bowie knife and a couple of grenades. I walk into the press gallery. Calmly sit down. Take out my pen, my pad and my dictaphone. I start to write notes. Duncan Garner is sitting next to me, and Vernon Small to the back left. Suddenly I launch myself forward pulling both pistols out and shooting willy nilly in to the sea of politicians, making very sure not to hit the clerks. As I sail through the air and the clips of my hand guns run out I pull out the grenades. THUMP. I land on the Clerk of the houses desk, pull the pins and woosh, there go the grenades, one takes out Peter Dunne, the other takes out Rodney Hide. I pick up the Mace and brandish it like a jousting stick and skewer Winston Peters against the NOES exit. Then gradually the security staff wonder out. “WHAT’S ALL THIS RACKET?” one of them protests. “I remember when Walter Nash was Prime Minister, none of this who ha went on” another laments. They shuffle over on their zimmer frames and give me a stern telling off.

Thought experiment 2)

I walk into parliament with my pass, they don’t check it, and when I go to watch question time I don’t have to swipe it. Underneath my Giorgio Armani imitation jacket I picked up in China I am carrying two pistols, a large Bowie knife and a couple of grenades. I walk into the press gallery. Calmly sit down. Take out my pen, my pad and my dictaphone. I start to write notes. Duncan Garner is sitting next to me, and Vernon Small to the back left. Suddenly I launch myself forward… ACHTUNG! Out of seemingly no where, Aryan looking men leap forth and disarm me. Dislocating both my shoulders and incapacitating me to a point where shitting is impossible.

Is there an SIS presence hiding behind close doors on Parliament grounds? Are there men with guns quietly playing poker in some dimly lit room next to the debating chamber on the off chance that a slightly deranged, possibly drunk political science student looses it?I find it hard to believe that the only security presence on parliament grounds is an elderly task force which in times of war would be known as Dad’s Army.

**********************************

Dear SIS, New Zealand Police and GCSB. This blog post could probably fall under the jurisdiction of the Terrorism Suppression Act 2002. I however put to you that the above post is written in jest and that I do not really intend to kill many, if any politicians. It is also not my intention to ferment violent action against politicians in any way shape or form. Please do not raid my house, tap my phone calls, or watch me in the shower. I am not a security threat, and will continue to not be a security threat unless Pete Hodgson does not make me the steak sandwich I sent him a letter about.

Yours faithfully,

Jackson Wood

Politics Editor
Salient
PO Box 600 Wellington
Victoria University of Wellington
04 463 6766

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The editor of this fine rag for 2009.

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