Cebu International Academy in Mactan is the finest place I have encountered, and am likely to encounter, in Philippines.

As previously documented, through what has been maybe my own doing, I have had my issues with Philippines and the people therein; please do not misunderstand me, this country is not an outrightly bad place, the fact that it fails to align with my morals, principles, and values, is not reason to assume that everyone who comes here will encounter the same upsets – my articles are my personal experiences, as they befell me.

Cebu International Academy is currently home to students from around the Asian continent – perhaps also beyond as nobody seems decided on whether Russia is Asia or Europe – from Japan, South Korea, Taiwan, Thailand, Vietnam, China, Mongolia, Saudi Arabia, Turkey, and Russia; brilliant young students all with a common goal – learning English.

Admittedly, my experiences in this country have been generally negative thus my impression of Philippines is ultimately undesirable yet, throughout the ordeal, CIA has been my place of refuge, my solace, my sanity; the words have been uttered more than once, “If I could live there, I would.”

At the start of the Philippines school year, January 3^rd, Cebu International Academy had fewer than 200 staff to accommodate its 300-plus students – much of the teaching is one-on-one or ‘Man to Man’ – then, by the beginning of May, staff numbers had moved well past 200 and student numbers are now transcending 420.

Employed as a Native English teacher, I handle up to eight group-classes per day and, from my first day here, in all my life I have never felt so welcomed, accepted, respected, and supported; the CIA team – staff and students – truly are a wondrous cohort to have beside you.

Cebu International Academy is equipped to go strongly into the future of English teaching; with its staff of wonderfully skilled, passionate, and empathetic teachers, with its focus on maintaining a safe and happy environment for its students, with CIA’s purpose-built IELTS proctoring facility, this is truly an educational juggernaut of behemoth proportions.

As a premises, CIA is otherworldly; from my interview November 2022 then to my first day January 2023, the people have been amazing and, outside-office-hours Filipino grievances notwithstanding, as a workplace, I would not wish for better.

Undeniably, Cebu International Academy in Philippines is the future of English teaching around the world.

Article by Tim Walker

Edited by Manny Blessings

Photography by Velan D Love

You want more? Oh, there is much more.

Month or two later I decided to reunite with 1000-Peso-a-day lady from Butuan.

Yeah, that didn’t go so well.

Went some way, in fact, towards finalising my decision to stay away from Filipino women (‘Not all Filipino people’ … ‘No, no, like I said, just the women’).

She came on the ferry from Butuan in March ‘23; admittedly, it was good to see her.

In the beginning.

She apologised for acting so horribly in November ’22, promised she’d be better this time; so hopeful I was, I didn’t even see the dollar-signs in her eyes.

It had just been her birthday, I said I’d get her something nice – what did she want?

“Money!”

That was easy; I gave her 2000 Pesos.

Next day, she said she was going shopping and needed money.

I gave her another 2000 Pesos; told her that was to last the week.

Next day she was going to an aquatic exhibit at a mall on the next island to make some Facebook videos and needed money.

I gave her 1000 Pesos; told her that was it for the week.

Next day she stayed at home all day, watching TV in the cool of the air conditioning.

Her manner had become increasingly insufferable; she was demanding, she was expecting, she was argumentative, she was defensive, she was defiant, she was hostile, she was spiteful, she didn’t listen, if she did listen she didn’t remember and, like last time, she was generally unpleasant.

I came home from work exhausted, she was on the couch with the aircond and TV on, surrounded by snacks in all her chubby glory – she wasn’t chubby a few months ago – and immediately ripped into me about not having enough money to do what she needed to do.

I reminded her I’d given her 5000 Pesos over the last three days; I was paying for the house, I was paying for her electricity, all she truly ‘needed’ was food and water for herself as well as bus fare to go wherever she ‘needed’ to go. If she couldn’t make that work over three days from 5000 Pesos – half a month’s salary for many – in Philippines, it wasn’t my fault.

Next morning, insufferable became unbearable; still before 6:30 – she was on the couch having been sleeping/watching TV downstairs all night – coming out of the shower I stumbled straight into another argument (demanding more money). In my quest to remain unflustered before the start of my workday, I opened my wallet, flicked out 1500 Pesos – having previously researched ‘boat fare Mactan to Butuan’ – calmly saying, “I was wrong for expecting you were going to be any different this time … I don’t want you in my house anymore … Go home.”

“1500? It’s not enough – give me 5000!”

“I don’t have any more cash on me, goodbye.” I turned out the door and walked to the refuge of my workplace.

Returning home at 5:30, I had actually forgotten about the morning’s unpleasantness; did think the outside light being on was odd, though.

Door was open. Memory came back. I stepped indoors through a waft of steam and heat. Awareness piquing, I walked straight to the bathroom. All the lights in the house had been turned on, air conditioning running at 21 degrees. The room was stifling. Plumes of steam were billowing from beneath the bathroom door. I pushed it open to be met with a palpable wall of heat. The electric shower was spraying near-boiling water onto the tiles. I reached down to switch off the shower then reflexively withdrew my hand; I had never run that shower at more than ‘1’ – glancing up – it was currently blasting water on ‘3’. It was hot. Still wearing my work backpack, clothes now soaked in perspiration, I reached up to twist the showerhead giving me access to the shower switch. Done, and with only mild burns. Now with wet feet padding on the living room tiles I shut off the air conditioning then walked back to the door and turned off the lights. Walking around the house I checked and turned off all other switches, including a kettle-full of boiled water – now tepid – then went up the stairs to my bedroom. Nothing on up there but, as I took off my backpack in preparation to plug in my laptop, I noticed my laptop charge cable was missing (plugged in via a Vietnamese adapter). Until that point nothing had upset me too much but that, stealing my charge cable and adapter thus potentially jeopardising my work in Philippines, that pissed me off. I checked my (always silenced) phone; my 1000-Peso-a-day Butuan lady had left a tirade of messages. Apparently, it was because I ‘did not give enough money’ that she had done what she did – told me she needed to take (steal) things to sell for enough money to get home.

Over the coming hours/days/weeks I noticed more things that 1000-Peso-a-day lady  had taken; she appeared to have rifled through every drawer and cupboard in the house, salvaging, on top of the charge cable and adapter, every electronic device I had in my bedside cabinet, my formal Vietnamese belt, my Vietnamese raincoat, my unopened pack of razors (strangely expensive in Philippines), my nose-hair tweezers (I think just to annoy me), also every work snack I had in the house (I suspect she ate the nuts before she left, around midday). Last month’s power bill was large, anyway.

During my time in Philippines it has become clear that, maybe due to many Filipino/Southeast Asian folk growing up/living in poverty they (‘not all Filipino people’), as well as having no concept of ‘accumulation of funds’ (‘Sorry, not all, just most, many’), they seem to have limited ability to budget those funds – despite not knowing from where or when the next score will come, they quickly blow through whatever they have. As for the women – again, from my experience – when they find themselves a White man, they tend to become entitled, as though they deserve everything the man can offer which, other than having a pretty face, often these women do nothing to deserve anything.

Rapacious ladies in Philippines.

It’s disgusting, it’s repulsive, and it is a culture that needs to change.

Article by Tim Walker

Edited by N Tate-Old

Photography by Cal Cha Shift

Back amid the dereliction of Talisay.

I had become acquainted with a street-food vending family down the street – the mother, the father, the two younger brothers and sister – then one day, I was introduced to the eldest daughter.

First impression, she was a goddess, but still young; maybe too young.

Turned out she was 20 making me, at 39, basically twice her age. While I was initially hesitant with the arrangement no one else appeared troubled by the age disparity and, intellectually, we connected immediately; she was brilliant – intelligent, wise, mature, funny – we chatted for six hours the first afternoon into evening, just talking, laughing, learning about each other.

Fair to say, by the end of that first day, I would have done anything for street-food daughter.

Every morning now, mid-November 2022, following breakfast at the 7/11 just down from my hotel, I would excitedly head further down the street and hang out at my street-food joint, waiting for the young Criminology student to make her appearance.

Two weeks later, ‘besotted’ is an understatement. My departure date is nearing and, well, I have spent enough time in this world to understand that one should never turn their back on an opportunity such as this; problem is, I already have employment lined up in Vietnam for 2023 but now, damn it, I want to be in Philippines – want to be with street-food daughter. Hm. Additionally problematic is the fact that I don’t like Philippines. I like one woman in Philippines but, as a country, I could very easily go the rest of my life without Philippines. So insanely captivated I am by this woman in Philippines, however, I presently find myself searching for jobs in Philippines; even applied for two of them – one at a Call Center and one at an English Academy I’d never heard of. (Compared with Vietnam, in the latter field, I was aware the pay was lower but, I didn’t care, I just wanted to be with street-food daughter.)

Next day, I receive an invitation for a job interview with Cebu International Academy (CIA); two days later, I had the job.

Caption: ‘Foolish White man, heart on his sleeve impetuously trying to make a life in Philippines, and the Dictators of Fate do appear to be on his side.’

The sceptic in me, though, the investigative journalist said it was too good; too easy.

Oddly, nobody at my street-food joint seemed terribly enthusiastic about my newest ‘act of commitment’; therefore, speaking about it with the object of my affections, street-food daughter, I was told, bizarrely, “My mother still doesn’t think you serious about me…”

Five Stages of Filipino Courtship – Attraction, Reality, Commitment, Intimacy, Engagement.

‘Attraction’ is obvious. ‘Reality’ is the act of processing your emotions to the extent of differentiating fantasy from reality; I felt I had achieved that. ‘Commitment’ is where I was lacking, apparently; here was me, making significant changes to my hitherto scrupulously planned life-plan yet, it was seemingly insufficient to prove to the mother that I was ‘committed’ to her daughter. Thus, I paid for a semester’s Criminology tuition (Philippines, money talks louder than anything). Still unsure though if my ‘commitment’ is being properly appreciated, and with my departure looming, I took control of the situation and bought an engagement ring; seemed to me, that was always the plan anyway, so why not do it now, as a further display of ‘commitment’?

Made sense at the time, anyway.

When I proposed, I made clear that I did not expect to be wedding her anytime soon, this was just to ‘solidify’ the relationship – now she knew I was coming back for her, hundred percent, and I knew that she would be waiting for me. She seemed overjoyed; we chatted about our future and set the date for May 2025.

‘Commitment’, done. ‘Intimacy’, missed but we could make up for that later, and now ‘Engagement’ also done, I thought. Nice one. ‘Nailed it’, I thought.

Early December, I returned to New Zealand for Christmas with my biological family.

Late December, having already organised accommodation for ‘my fiancé and me’ within walking distance of my place of employment in Mactan, I returned to Philippines.

Early January, I signed my contract with CIA and started work as a full-time ‘Native English, Main Teacher’.

Late January, street-food daughter moved into our house with me.

Her phone had broken, so I gave her some cash for a new one.

Then she was stressed because she didn’t have enough money to pay for the upcoming Criminology semester…

Apparently, the money I had paid was backpay which had covered the last semester, and now she needed more money to fund the coming semester. Controlling myself, I told her that she was full of shit, adding, “There is no university in the world that allows students to enrol for one semester on the proviso that they will pay their fees, like good little students, next semester.” That pissed me off. Later though, the story changed; now her mother had used 6,000 Pesos of the tuition fund to buy her brother a new phone, so now she just needed the cost of a new phone, again.

…I knew I was being lied to, and it crushed me like no other lie had. Street-food daughter, during November ’22, had shown me that she was an upstanding, honourable young woman; then during December ’22, something had changed, she had somehow become corrupted.

January ‘23, the woman I loved repulsed me. Compounding this, my engagement ring had mysteriously disappeared from her finger – “My mom pawned it to pay for something ‘cause she needed money real bad…” – once a woman I trusted wholeheartedly, someone for whom I would have done, would have given, anything and now, I didn’t believe a word she said.

Not all Filipino women, but most, many.

Article by Tim Walker

Edited by Syd Story

Photography by Philip Pens

From my RedDoorz Hotel in Talisay, Cebu, I was hopeful in achieving some relaxation.

Alas, wherever I was, it seemed, rapacious women would find me; as time spent online was minimal, approaches in this regard wasn’t so much an issue – it was everywhere else – innocently chatting to a Filipino lady while waiting for the bus, or on the bus, or at the 7/11, at the traffic lights, waiting to cross the road, or just walking down the road; it usually would only take a moment before I detected dollar-signs in her eyes (different from a look of happiness or cheer; more sinister, calculating) coupled with an unusual amount of Filipino disingenuousness and ‘forwardness’.

To an untrained male observer, sure, this interaction between myself and a beautiful (chubby/fat) Filipino lady might seem innocuous, even alluring but, here’s the thing, this kind of feminine farce is far from an isolated incident and, while willing they may appear, willing they most certainly are not; you may think, sure, give her some money, she’ll loosen up – no – give her some money to ‘loosen her up’, she’ll just want more money and still, you’ll get nothing. No joy, no reward, no woman; nothing. Maybe some frustration. Certainly nothing positive. Women I’ve met in Philippines are takers (not all Filipino people); zero want to give back (sorry, not all, jut most, many) but all seem to expect to receive from the White man.

Few days later, tired of Talisay but having reserved that hotel until the end of the month, leaving my suitcase and other items in my room, I flew out to San Francisco, Philippines. San Francisco was the most undeveloped town I’d seen in Philippines, yet with the most expensive hotel I had encountered (along with another attempted taxi scam from the bus then later some light White Man Taxation); then I was quickly found by a lady. I was ravenous so offered to take her out for a meal (I had in mind the pleasant street-food restaurant where I had breakfasted; having earlier inquired at the adjacent street-food joint to find identical food at double the price – just for a White man), she accepted and insisted on bringing her family (typical in Philippines); two hours and around 2000 Pesos later, she and her 10-person cohort had enjoyed a first-class meal at a Western restaurant (at her insistence). Deciding I wanted to spend the day at a San Fran beach, 10 of us climbed into a ‘jeepney’ (small bus/truck) and travelled 45 minutes to the beach. Jeepney fare for everyone, another 1000P. Beach food/drink/incidentals, another 1000P. Beach reservation/umbrella, 350P – although that somehow blew out to another 1000, but I was too tired at this point to care. Painfully aware I was still liable for the 1000P return trip – the last 1000 in my wallet (I had foolishly imagined a ‘day at the beach’ would be inexpensive so had only brought 5000 Pesos – basic monthly salary in Philippines is only 10,000 – but, of course, Filipino ladies can make anything costly).

I found myself reminiscing about my ‘1000 Peso a day’ Butuan lady; by comparison, she was a cheap date, although maybe I needed to play a longer game with this San Fran lady – maybe once she saw how much I was willing to spend on her she would lift her game…

I glanced at the recipient of my goodwill, having not received a smile in my direction, emanated warmth, even gratitude, all day. She forced a weak smile this time.

…Hm. It didn’t look auspicious; not a gamble I was willing to take.

Her family was great, we had a lot of fun and chatted throughout day; the object of the occasion, though, even as darkness fell, didn’t appear to care at all – in fact, it seemed, the more money I spent on her and her family, while the family seemed to love me, the more she avoided me.

I went back to my hotel that night and back to Talisay the next day.

Most Filipino folk claim to be devout Catholics; for many women, this apparently means ‘no sex before marriage’. Indeed, most young Filipino women will claim to be virginal; most are not. From what I understand, most Filipino boys will have had their way with most Filipino women (in Philippines, most girls become ‘women’ frightfully young) before they reach 16 (sometimes years younger than that) – irrespective most of these women will maintain ‘virginity’ until marriage. (Incidentally, up until a few years ago, like much of Asia, the Philippines age of consent was just 13 years old; in a quest to decrease the rate of teenage pregnancy, however, the age was raised. The efficacy of this shift is questionable.) Filipino families, devout Catholics who lie and cheat like it’s Gospel; yeah, most of Philippines’ so-called devout Catholics (‘Not all Filipino people’) are raging Hypocrites (‘Sorry, not all, just most, many’).

What would God do – would He lie and cheat His way through life? Well, no, according to the Bible, in fact, He would have been more likely to offer up some virgins to be raped by angry townsfolk and/or family members (seriously, read the Old Testament, it’s horrific) https://www.gotquestions.org/Lots-daughters.html  while keeping some other virgins pure to later entertain Himself and his Prophets, but that’s a story for another day.

Article by Tim Walker

Edited by Hippo Crit Ocale

Photography by Gad Butherers

For a Filipino local, life in Philippines is likely an unremarkable existence.

For a White man trying to respectfully make his way in this Third World land, the adopted lifestyle is anything but unremarkable.

Butuan was nice, reminded me of my dream province in Vietnam and, just like Buon Ma Thuot, I would have happily made it my (other) home; all I needed was assurance that the woman for whom I had come to Philippines was worth it.

I was aware she had heard it before but, even before we arrived back from the airport, I was compelled to go over my ‘rules’ (in context, of course): “As you know, I like simple … I do not tolerate lies … Small lies, big lies, they’re all the same to me because, when you lie to me, It means you don’t respect me and, if you don’t respect me, small lies will always become big lies, then you need to lies more to cover the lies, then nothing makes sense, you lose sight of reality, you contradict yourself because you forget what lies you’ve already told me… Lies complicate and unnecessary complications piss me off … I like simple, I like real … Be honest, be genuine, tell me anything you want, no matter how bad and, providing it’s the truth, I will assess it and I will accept it … Tell me lies and I’m gone … Treat me well, don’t ever lie to me, I will treat you very well.”

“Okay,” she said dreamily. “Yeah, I hate lies too.”

That was her first lie.

First thing I noticed, amid this inexpensive rural settling, was how much money I was spending on my travel partner. I could live comfortably, even eating out twice a day (the expensive hotel room she had encouraged me to rent provided breakfast), living a peaceful existence on around 500 Pesos – she would easily burn through over twice that, not including the hotel for which I had already paid. Of course, I had no problem spending money on a lady but, it occurred to me, the way she was behaving once I arrived – now – was not even a little bit how she would have been behaving before I arrived. This troubled me; I was there, with her, to sample the beauty of Philippines life, we were doing none of what she had previously said we would do – beaches, snorkelling, hiking – although she was certainly making the most of my time there – hair done, nails done, clothes, makeup – which, again, fine, I had time to myself, this was my preference. What I could not suffer, though, was when we would meet up again, she would barely speak to me, other than to demand more money.

It took two days to realise the 33-year-old woman from Butuan was not my destiny.

Next day, she was busy all day; I used my further alone time to book flights to and accommodation in Cebu.

Day after that, seemingly courtesy of an implicit compounding effect in her own mind, she had not a pleasant word to say; we breakfasted together but she refused to come for a swim afterwards. Her words, as she stormed off, seemingly annoyed at herself for being too lazy to be any better, “Oh, why don’t you just leave … Go to Cebu! (For the record, there was no way she had knowledge of my planned trip to Cebu; I had heard this before, anyway, whenever she was frustrated – ‘Just leave … Go to Cebu!’ – this was just how she ended most of her personally inspired disagreements with me.)

Next time I saw her I told her, “Right, you’ll be pleased, going to Cebu tomorrow.”

“What?” She actually looked surprised. “Why?”

“Remember ‘Be good to me and I’ll treat you well’? Yeah, well, I feel as though I’ve treated you pretty well and, basically, you’ve been treating me like a piece of shit with money.”

From what I’ve seen, Filipinos (‘not all Filipino people’) are an opportunistic bunch (‘sorry, not all, just most, many’) who, when faced with a White man, seem to become overawed by avarice; their focus becomes attempting to screw as much money in one hit as they can out of the ‘idiot American’.

The ‘White Man Tax’, extra cost placed upon any item the Filipino vendor believes the White man is stupid enough to pay – fruit, vegetables, other takeaway food, barbershop, hardware, anything – ‘taxation’ attempts of the aforementioned happened to me continually during the month of January, through February, onto March, until these vendors started to realise for themselves what I was always sure to tell them before leaving in empty-handed disgust never to return: “I am going to be here for a long time, my repeat custom would have served you much better than a one-time score.”

“No English.”

Article by Tim Walker

Edited by Wyatt Mon Tacks

Photography by Phil Upeen Marketing

In the beginning, like so many Western men, for me the allure of Philippines could be summarised in one word: women.

Now, regarding Philippines, the term ‘women’ makes me want to throw up a little.

The worst thing, though, it’s not just the women who leave a taste of bile on my tongue; it’s Philippines.

It began last year, November ’22, following a successful tour of, and honourable discharge from, Vietnam; along my passage home I thought I could push my luck a little further and stop off in the reputed paradise of ‘The Philippines’.

Interesting how, whenever I am planning a trip somewhere, even before I physically notify anyone, suddenly half the world seems to know (makes me wonder, how secure are Facebook ‘personal messages’; yeah, perhaps a fair assertion that Mr Facebook is taking a cut from Mr Google as they sit around munching Cookies thinking up new and invasive ways to get their pop-ups seen).

While still in Vietnam I was besieged with Facebook friend requests from Filipino ladies; seriously, just the women, which was peculiar because, as it would turn out, 97% of Filipino women have ‘broken phones’, and need between 1000 and 4000 Pesos for a new one (so, although I never saw it, I guess these ladies must be using laptops for their on-the-go social media gold-digging/time-wasting).

“Wonderful,” I would say, “I’ll be in your country soon, we’ll catch up, get you a new phone…”

Those communications seldom went any further which was maybe because, as I now understand, you’re unlikely to get a new phone in Philippines for under 5000.

I’d been friends for years with a woman from Butuan, Philippines; she was bright, funny, beautiful, slim – in Philippines a ‘slim woman’ over the age of 18 is rare – seemed wonderful, and the best thing, although she did once mention her broken phone, she had never once asked me for money.

It was set; Vietnam to New Zealand, via Butuan, Philippines.

Awesome. Another Third World airport, more rain delays, not unexpected, angry White man (“…fuckin’ shambles, couldn’t organise a fuckin’ piss-up in a brewery…”), presumed Australian, not unexpected, subdued bedlam, not unexpected, malfunctioning technology, frustrating; not intolerable.

From Saigon to Manila, Manila to Butuan; another almost 24-hour sleepless period – wouldn’t have been bad but for a 9-hour (outdoor) wait at Manila airport to catch the plane down to Butuan. The upside, I was able to experience my first Philippines taxi scam; seedy-looking middle-aged cretin tried to charge me USD50 for the ride between airport terminals – having missed the airport shuttle through ignorance this taxi driver saw the opportunity to exploit the ‘idiot American’ (as all White folk seem to be to Filipinos), but hadn’t wagered on the idiot being a seasoned Southeast Asian traveller – remaining calm, I flicked on the inside light (4am), found the conveniently ‘misplaced’ price chart, and scrolled down to ‘T1 -T2 300P’.

Suffice to say, I paid him 300 Pesos, told him he was a shithead (by then he was claiming ‘no English’, anyway), and disembarked. Incidentally, USD50 is more than PHP2500.

Still running my Vietnamese SIM, I had maintained contact with my Philippines acquaintance until I left Vietnam; having notified her of my scheduled arrival time in Butuan – she had agreed to pick me up at the airport – having reassured her, ‘Do not be discouraged if/when we lose contact, I won’t have a Philippines SIM, and WIFI at some airports require that. Just be there, hundred percent, I will be there at 06:05.’

Just five minutes past my scheduled arrival – unsure how that works, we left Manila over an hour late – I was unsurprised to find my airport pickup absent; this trait of Philippines people (‘Not all Filipino people’) was one that I would see a lot in the coming months and regarding a variety of topics, this (‘Sorry, not all, just most – many’) is a discussion I would have had numerous times.

Eventually, over two hours later, with much assistance from airport staff, I logged into some characteristically unreliable airport WIFI and reminded/roused my pickup to come get me; thus, marks almost 24 hours sleepless travel and the first leg of my tour.

Philippines, not unlike much of Southeast Asia, seems to embrace a culture of dishonesty yet, unlike, say, Vietnam – where, as a tourist, you might turn up, be lied to, cheated, have all your money swindled on the first day/night – if you wish to leave that scene, there’s always places you can go in Vietnam that are relatively honest and do not maintain such a duplicitous culture; although, admittedly, I have only visited, I think, five islands (of around 2000 inhabited) and been located in four different regions, having spoken candidly to a expanse of locals who claim to have experienced much of their country’s offerings, at least implicitly, I am led to believe that Cebu is one of the more ‘honourable’ destinations in Philippines.

For country whose income is based on tourism, I find this concerning.

Article by Tim Walker

Edited by D C Ving

Photography by Philip P Nass

According to Government the New Zealand economy was never in trouble; just wish someone had warned us that inflation was about to go out of control.

Oh, wait, someone did; inflation/inflation-ii/inflation-iii

Hate to be that guy but I feel as though, I mean, if I knew that giving handouts to the people was going to achieve no long-term gains other than increased inflation, then surely our official finance guy should have had some clue.

Grant Robertson should have had the financial acumen to know that giving out regular minimum wage increases is not conducive to a country’s long-term prosperity; as asserted in one of the above ‘Inflations’, a better way to increase public cashflow/decease public living costs is to start at the other end – rather than effectively increasing wages across the nation with a minimum wage increase, what if Government subsidised the cost of basic goods?

We have struggling families in New Zealand who cannot afford to feed or clothe their children; this concept of subsidising the staples would provide relief to low-income families without having a dramatic effect on the dreaded inflation.

If our government removed, for example, GST from bread, meat, milk, fruit and vegetables, also children’s basic clothing items, it would cost no more than a minimum wage increase (oh, wait, raising the minimum wage does cost the Government nothing, anyway); rather, it would cost the Government no more than a benefit increase and, for those lower socio-economic groups, instead of receiving a sudden increase in cash to do with as they please which may well result in the purchase of desirables rather than necessities, these people will discover the products they most need are now more affordable.

The reason this concept works where constant minimum wage increases does not, relates to a truth which Socialism likes to believe is an economic injustice; the truth that the so-called wage-gap must exist.

If not for the high-income bracket (currently paying over 30% in taxes), who would pay the benefits of the lower income bracket (paying under 18% in tax) – unemployment benefits, social welfare, DPB, ACC?

Additionally, it is the monetary differential which makes the system of currency work; if all working classes enjoyed a similar income, every person would have basically the same amount of money thus no one would have any more buying power than anybody else – if nobody is creating buying power there is no commercial competition and if there is no competition there is no way to gauge value or to determine price and/or regulate the setting of prices.

This phenomenon was/is experienced in nations operating with communist governments; with a negligible wage-gap thus minimal commercial competition a country’s currency will soon lose value causing prices to rise with continued inflation, and in relation to the rest of the world, amid a land run by Communism, that country’s currency will soon become undervalued.

Example given, I am soon to return to a business venture in – formally communist – Vietnam where a high weekly income is the equivalent of NZD500 and a lower income is under NZD100 a week; same thing, different scale, but Vietnam are rebuilding their economy from the disrepair left by years of Communism and, as seen above, have reinstated a healthy wage–gap which will encourage commercial competition in their land of aspiring Socialism/Capitalism.

Vietnam’s currency is the greatest example of the damaging effects of unrestrained inflation; Vietnamese currency has more zeros than any other monetary unit in the world – 1 New Zealand Dollar being comparable to approximately 15,000 Vietnam Dong.

New Zealand’s current economic despair, it seems, can be easily reversed; Grant Robertson, pay attention – the solution is not giving the people more cash, it is about making essential products affordable.

Good luck with that.

Article by Tim Walker

Edited by Gavin Ut Cash

Photography by Anne Phlation

From a legal standpoint, how is ‘a declaration of war’ any different to ‘conspiracy to commit mass murder’?

Six days ago, when Russia waged war on Ukraine, Vladimir Putin became immediately famous for, if nothing else, being the most unsupported warmonger in history; seemingly no one wants the war against Ukraine, most people around the world have no idea what Putin is hoping to achieve and few in Russia even understand the war’s meaning.

Vladimir Putin seems to be away in his own pugnacious little world holding a pissing contest with himself.

At the height of D Trump’s US presidency, when many people were fearful that the US President’s riling of Kim Jong Un might begin a war with North Korea, I recall uttering the words ‘There is no way, in the 21^st century, that the world would be sufficiently ignorant to allow itself to descend into another World War’; I stand by that statement and, given that wars between two nations are effectively that – pissing contests between ignoramuses to see who is the most ignorant – in this age of intelligence and logic, there is no reason for anyone to resort to violence to accomplish their quests.

NATO are now talking about Putin standing trial for ‘war crimes’; please refer to my opening paragraph.

One thing about Russia’s war with Ukraine, from New Zealand’s perspective, we finally have something to shift focus from COVID; yesterday New Zealand had 20,000 new cases of COVID-19 of which there were 9 in ICU – less illness than a wintertime cold and flu season but, due to months of feverish scaremongering by the New Zealand Government, people are terrified.

Task at hand; pull your head in and get your hand off it, Putin, stop being an antiquated shithead and realise that declarations of war are no longer the way to achieve your goals.

The people of Ukraine don’t want your war and, likely, nor do your own countrymen.

Article by Tim Walker

Edited by Pont Les War

Photography by Warren Co Vid

Hm, I must be the only person struggling to comprehend New Zealand’s continued battle with COVID-19.

Coronavirus had a novelty factor, COVID-19 was cool because it was an acronym with numbers, the Delta variant was out to kill so was less likable, and now Omicron is clearly the dissipation stage of viral evolution – far more cases but with far less severity per case.

Despite this, Government scaremongering continues unabated.

In New Zealand, we were implored to ‘get vaccinated’ because once we ‘reached 90%’ life could return to normal; as a nation we reached 90% but, not unexpectedly, we experienced little improvement in quality of life.

Omicron appeared, the ‘highly transmissible’ variant (also far less deadly than Delta but media were discouraged from saying anything that could reduce people’s fear of COVID so ‘highly transmissible’ was it) although, funnily enough, despite numerous ‘potential spreaders’ – irresponsible British DJs, belated test positives coming out of MIQ etc – in Christchurch over past weeks Omicron could just not manage to latch on so, you may have noticed, on account of its inability to spread, media had to stop referring to it as ‘the highly transmissible variant’ because that was becoming comical, until recently when it finally did take around New Zealand, and now ‘highly transmissible’ is back.

Wonderful; I just don’t think anyone cares anymore.

June 2020, when I did my stint in (Government funded) quarantine, it was 14 days of relative isolation; more recently, quarantine was reduced to 10 days, even to 7 but, because so many people have been belatedly testing positive for Omicron, it is again being stretched out to 14 days.

Such a gut-wrenching waste of time, such a gargantuan waste of resources, such a gigantic waste of Government funds; such a further wasting of New Zealand’s economy, at a time where the value of our dollar has dropped to its lowest point in years.

Must come as a crippling blow, Jacinda, to find that most of the rest of the world is doing better than us.

Here is the reality; while New Zealand is doing all it can to avoid a virus which epidemiologists recently conceded ‘will now be impossible to avoid’, the rest of the world already has Omicron.

For most, this recent strain of the virus will, at worst, lay up a patient in bed for a week; that is one week you might be out of action – by New Zealand’s MIQ plan, you will be out of action for two weeks, then you still won’t have had Omicron which will potentially lay you up for another week.

This debacle is why our economy is currently suffering, and why it is set to suffer a whole lot more when Omicron does take hold and finds a country of sheltered government minions who, although highly vaccinated and fresh from two-week stints in isolation, in fact have yet to be touched by the Omicron virus, thus are ripe for a further week of bedrest.

Seriously, regarding Government scaremongering, the state of New Zealand’s economy is what everybody should be fearing, not this highly transmissible but decidedly watered-down version of COVID-19.

Does this country even have a finance minister anymore?

Article by Tim Walker

Edited by Witter Down

Photography by O Mi Crumb

New Zealand’s resident anti-EV motorists seem to share a similar mentality to our group of anti-vax malcontents.

Unlikely they are the same group but, bunch of erroneously informed, rumour perpetuating, Facebook gleaning, baselessly negative, painfully ignorant, illogical complainants they are.

Admittedly, there are people in New Zealand who are unwilling to undergo COVID vaccination for legitimate reasons and, make no mistake, there is nothing wrong with that choice, it’s the COVID-19 conspiracy theorists, that minority of the anti-vax population who believe that COVID is a hoax and/or the Government just wants to control them (yet still they voted Labour), who give the term ‘anti-vaxer’ a bad name.

For the record, there is nothing in a Facebook ‘Newsfeed’ that is obligated to represent even an iota of truthfulness; this is where conspiracies begin, any person can post any item about any thing – edited photo, doctored video, misrepresented writing – then pass it off as fact (Facebook’s Newsfeed is the home of ‘fake news’ and it is dangerous, and yes, I am aware of the irony).

Regarding New Zealand’s anti-EV group, just the other day I was hit with the terribly hackneyed, “Oh, they’re just too bloody expensive…”

This was only days after hearing, “Yeah, but what happens when the batteries need replacing – aren’t they expensive?”

Did we all hear about New Zealand’s top-selling vehicle in 2021 – yeah, what about number two in that list?

Hmm, expensive, right.

Expensive is going out and spending $50 grand on a bloody Ford Ranger, like so many Kiwis seem to have done this past year; the others, yeah, they went with a classic, Toyota Hilux, but at a similar price.

Here is a fun fact: over 80% of these 4WD vehicles were purchased by city folk who will likely never take their off–road vehicles off a sealed surface.

Still, apparently an EV is too expensive, even though the upfront cost is potentially half that of your big 4WD vehicle, just without the street-cred you believe your Ranger Wildtrak or Raptor will afford you, all pimped out with your chrome bull-bars, roll-cage among other accessories, maybe even lowered a little bit on massive feet still running the factory mud-grips for optimum inner-city noise so you can really turn heads when you cruise past farm factory or building supply outlets just dreaming about how one day you might have the opportunity to take off that tonneau cover, stop being a blow-hard and actually use your ute for its intended purpose.

A city-dweller who argues that ‘EVs are too expensive’ then purchases a Ranger or Hilux, will spend around $50,000 initially, along with a fuel bill of at least $100 per week, or over $5000 a year.

At that, they could have bought two EVs, then costing around $20 a week, or $1000 a year, in maintenance.

Rather than spending $50,000 on a vehicle that is going to have an increasing fuel-cost of over $5000 per year, they could have saved themselves $25,000 initially, then been recuperating the remainder of the cost at around $4000 per year.

Most EV batteries will last at least 15 years before they require attention; buy a five-year-old EV for $25,000 and recuperate that cost in around six years, then in maybe another six years, with $25,000 now in your pocket (seriously, if you are not spending all that money on fuel, you will be flooded with expendable cash), take one year’s fuel cost from your bloody Ford Ranger and yeah, maybe recondition some batteries to last you another 15 years – along with further fuel savings of around $60,000 (seriously, that’s how it works, there is that much money to be made in not buying fuel).

So, who has so much money they can afford to be so precious about their image when they drive?

Chinese manufacturer LDV does an EV commercial van for $50 grand – Ranger, anyone? – and with savings as just mentioned; plumbers, carpenters, plasters, anyone, how can one be so senseless as to want to keep driving their internal combustion vehicles?

Fuel prices are ever-increasing while future Government taxes will additionally target drivers of off-road vehicles; currently there is zero road tax on EVs and comparatively, electricity is cheap.

In the 21^st century, buying an EV makes sense; pull your heads in and stop taking your news updates from Facebook.

Article by Tim Walker

Edited by E V Sense

Photography by F B Bollocks