Monthly Archives: March 2016

Tim Walker’s Fustigator V


I am accustomed to the touch of others yet my own reach is abstract.

I only speak when spoken to yet I am responsible for much gossip.

I am hard-surfaced yet am not impervious to abuse.

I often rest in a cradle yet am over one hundred years old.

I regularly disturb peace yet have been known to incite that very thing.

I am an exceptional communicator yet have no ability to articulate.

I am low maintenance yet will stop responding if forgotten for too long.

I respect privacy yet do often oversee breaches of secrecy.

I was invented by a chap with a name like a chime.

I have an unremarkable façade yet number almost a ten.

I am the advanced cousin of Morse’s brainchild yet am almost considered obsolete.

I will not consider myself easy yet will accept your ring even before we know each other.








Last week’s Fustigator: Clock

Tim Walker’s Theory XXXVI

The first frost of the year befell the Canterbury Plains last week; amid an otherwise balmy month of March some might consider such an early freeze ‘unseasonable’.

This kind of supposed anomaly in New Zealand’s weather patterns plays right into the hands of the nation’s ‘climate changers’ – that quirky group of zealots who advocate the belief that man’s presence on the surface of the globe is greatly contributing to planet Earth’s eventual demise – who, seemingly forgetting that they too align with this unholy presence of human racers, like to blame any unusual weather phenomenon on people in general.

The fact of the matter is that the very same thing, the same early frost or two or even three occurs most years, it’s just that the majority of us don’t make a habit of recalling the precise way things took place over 350 days in the past.

This week’s Theory therefore, which if I’m not careful I’ll have documented in full before so much as writing the introduction, pertains to the way that the nation’s and indeed, this world’s populous of malcontents tend to perceive remarkable and upsetting instances to best fit with their beliefs and opinions while conveniently forgetting, or overlooking the actual facts that might go some way to undoing their theories.

Examples of the aforementioned assertion/accusation can be seen – in fact they can be witnessed in most every instance where so called eco-warriors have exerted their uninformed or often ignorant presence on the nation or often world in their attempt to stymie its attempt at progress or ultimately prosperity.

In fact climate change is just one example: despite the world’s major polluters being the likes of China, USA, Brazil, Indonesia, and even Japan, our own little band of climate changers still do their best to cause a ruckus regarding the ideal of ‘rigorous emission control in New Zealand’, as if a sparsely located population of five million (refer, Truth on Pollution) can make a difference when China shoots into the sky in ten minutes the amount of pollution that the whole of NZ does in an entire week.

Then there’s the grounding of whales around New Zealand’s coast (refer, Whale in a Pickle) which likely has more to do with the ocean’s increasing paucity of food, resulting in these whales’ intentional beaching thus suicide, than it does with these eco-warriors’ theory of disorientation; therefore all that’s being achieved by their refloating is effectively perpetuating these majestic creatures’ starvation, but of course listening to facts when they can create convenient fiction is scarcely the eco-warrior way.

What about that TPP thing? (Refer, Protesting VI; Little.) Did anyone ever find out what that abbreviation stood for? What about the nature of it – what it actually meant, I mean, or what it would mean? No, I don’t think any of those protesters bothered to learn the specifics of that particular agreement either – they couldn’t have, or they would have realised that not only is such an agreement vital to the future prosperity of the nation; had these idiot malcontents done some research into the Trans Pacific Partnership they would have found that this variety of trading agreement has been an integral part of New Zealand’s economy since the ‘80s there was just no need to bring it into the public eye because, well, shit, look what happened when it was.

Thus to conclude: my theory states that amid a nation of petulant, pathetic, penis-throwing malcontents, people, specifically, protesters, only ever really hear as much as they want to hear.



Article by Tim Walker

Edited by Iggy Norrant

Photography by Malcolm Tent



Tim Walker’s Fustigator IV


I assist people throughout the day yet can be the cause of much distress.

I am generally quiet yet I do sometimes cause alarm.

I come in a variety of colours but black or white are the favourites.

I am ordinarily circular yet my shape changes according to interior fashion.

I hang around in the same place all day yet contain a number of moving parts.

I take my vigour from an external source but ration it out very slowly.

I have in recent years undergone a change in the way my insides function.

I am probably the most looked at yet least admired entity in the area.

I have a fulcrum harbouring three yet go up to four times that.

I am numbered up to over ten yet have five times that many ticks.








Last week’s Fustigator: Currency

Tim Walker’s Dairy

For a long while New Zealand dairy farmers have been enduring continuous drops in the value of their milk products yet are pleased to hear their employer, Fonterra, announce a well over 100% profit on its last year’s earnings.

On account of this happy revelation Fonterra is prepared to fund a generous dividend payout to dairy farmers for their respective stakes in the company…

It seems no one has yet asked the obvious question: How, when the value of our milk products has been steadily dropping for the last few years, can you, the company who pays for our milk products, claim to have over doubled your profits in the last twelve months?

…As if this will make up for years of falling dairy prices; as if a sole dividend payment will account for those farmers who have already been forced to walk off their land.

Nevertheless Fonterra is now being celebrated and even praised by farmers for its goodwill towards them; although not so much by those farmers who couldn’t handle the strain of working for pittance and who have already declared bankruptcy, but certainly the others who are still struggling under Fonterra’s meagre milk price.

It’s like when a bank or utility company announces a ‘record profit’ – all this effectively means is that they’ve been overcharging their customers, because while it might warm a consumer’s heart to hear that their bank or electricity provider is doing so very well, as the consumer paying for that record profit margin, although the company CEO’s salary might go from $800 grand to a cool million, you will likely see no benefit at all.

Similar to our national sport, where we once excelled but are now nothing remarkable, the rest of the world has caught up and just as I predicted in a former post – Fieldays – the dairy boom in New Zealand never was going to last.

Well, clearly it is lasting for Fonterra, just not for the farmers who work so hard to ensure this company’s future prosperity.



Article by Tim Walker

Edited by Ria Core Pruffet

Photography by Fawcy O Celery


Tim Walker’s Theory XXXV

Interesting how many individuals seem to think, as if climatic behaviour is dictated by man and not the other way around, that the turn of the season – 1st March, 1st June, 1st September, 1st December – must invariably and immediately present the weather changes its name indicates.

This week’s Theory therefore pertains to the erroneous yet surprisingly commonplace belief that seasonal behaviour ought to relate directly and unequivocally to how we as the people have prescribed it should.

Further to that, many people in New Zealand seem to believe that once the South rolls past that 1st December spring cut-off anything less than mid-twenty degree temperatures, similarly a chilly burst of substantial rainfall, should be considered a ‘freak weather phenomenon’; these same querulous pillocks maintain that any pleasant day or warmth in general past the end of February is ‘unseasonable’.

Nothing annoys me more than to hear a weather presenter, for example on December 15th following a period of particularly icy southerly rainfall, inquiring with disingenuous disbelief, “Where’s summer gone?”, “What happened to summer?” or, “I thought this was supposed to be summer..?”

In fact no, something does annoy me more than that: it’s when naïve Auckland-based weather presenters, who likely do their best to avoid ever stepping outside the temperate safety of their own air conditioned television studio and whose closest experience with actual weather is the information provided via a shimmering computer screen by MetService, refer to sunshine thus heat as an invariable positive, and rainfall hence lower temperatures as an indubitable negative…

Just to be clear there is nothing negative, Canterbury Plains midsummer, about a few days of cooler temperatures and overcast drizzle, following a week of stifling heat and desiccating nor’ west wind; yet at anything less than a prediction of unadulterated sunshine and scorching temperatures – particularly if a public holiday is in sight – from these idiot city-dwellers with no idea of anything much outside their favourite café on the outskirts of their own bloody Super City, we hear pleas of “Where’s summer gone?”, “What happened to summer?” – “I thought this was supposed to be summer..?”

…I would like everybody across this nation to realise that, firstly, nowadays anyway, a season’s technical beginning does not guarantee the sudden arrival of the weather associated with that particular climatic event, and secondly, (as I write this I become aware of my northward glance and its accompanying look of contempt) high temperatures and dry conditions, while they may be desirous for some, are certainly not conducive to everybody’s good time.

My theory therefore, because I did assure you it was in here and I don’t make a habit of laying down false assurances, is that, despite equinoxes and solstices altering slightly every year, many people appear to genuinely believe that the world’s seasons hence weather patterns are beholden to follow a schedule prescribed by man, and any deviation from the aforementioned regime is totally unexpected, wholly inconvenient, thus undoubtedly warrants that trendy title of modern man, ‘freak weather phenomenon’.

My theory can be simplified to assert that, simply, we Kiwis have become a terribly precious people.



Article by Tim Walker

Edited by Clemmy Attic/D V Ashon

Photography by Prash S P Pole


Tim Walker’s Teabag

Prime Minister John Key is refusing to apologise for pointing out the truth that cameraman Bradley Ambrose is a devious and typically lawless member of the paparazzi.

Going back to the months surrounding New Zealand’s last election, Ambrose ‘mistakenly’ left a recording device on a café table near where Mr Key was engaged in a private discussion with contemporary John Banks.

I don’t feel it’s unreasonable that the nation’s Prime Minister should be allowed his privacy; to breach this unspoken etiquette through the devious channels implemented by Bradley Ambrose is utterly reprehensible.

Of course at the time of this ‘mistake’ the aforementioned recorder just happened to have been switched on, thus recorded an entire dull, political conversation.

The truth came out, John Key was understandably furious, he said some things of a defamatory nature; our Prime Minister was then sued by a smug Mr Ambrose.

Years later the case is wrapping up; John Key is settling out of court and using taxpayer money to fund the lawsuit.

I am surprised that the target of people’s indignation seems to be our Prime Minister for using public funds to cover costs, rather than that devious cameraman for his audacity; it’s not John Key’s fault that Bradley Ambrose is a lying, cheating quisling intent on effectively swindling the nation of New Zealand.

It’s not right that someone can end up paying for pointing out a truth, while another can come out better off for acting like a shithead.



Article by Tim Walker

Edited by A R Saul

Photography by T Bagger




Tim Walker’s Brawling

The pugnacious delinquents who last night made national News by flaunting their excesses of testosterone and conversely similar deficits in mental capacity, left me in a state of incensed disbelief.

This is the 21st century, yes? We are an evolved race, yes? We consider ourselves a civilised people, yes? This is a time of speed dating and Internet hook-ups, yes? We long ago passed the point of needing to physically battle our counterparts in the quest for a mate, did we not?

Right, that was what I thought. Yet I believe it was these very discrepancies that caused me such unease last night: I could not believe what I was seeing. This wasn’t a typical drunken slugfest, wasn’t just a drunken haymaker or two this was a premeditated, if not organised, street brawl. This was disgusting.

4 a.m. Sunday, in an otherwise deserted Auckland street, a small group of drunken male youths decide to have a go at one another. A similar number of female spectators are in attendance, screaming and yelling, making feeble attempts to stop the fight, or perhaps just enjoying the attention, who really knows?

These males’ territorial pissing contest becomes intense when one of the beaten goes down, failing to resurface for a number of minutes…

‘Oh no,’ is a thought that just might have crossed one of these idiot’s minds, ‘maybe we hurt him – maybe we hurt him bad … But we didn’t mean to hurt him too bad, you know, just wanted to make him bleed a bit, you know, wanted to impress the girls, you know, wanted to look like a big man, you know, because girls are impressed by that kind of stuff, you know.’

…The fallen figure then shows signs of life, so several more kicks are delivered to his head and body.

What these drunken pillocks can’t seem to appreciate is the potential magnitude of their actions: these apparent displays of manliness, these territorial pissings – one decent punch coupled with one solid kerb under one falling man’s head – one mishap and things can quickly escalate to a homicide charge.

Police were heard to say that they would be checking into the bars the idiots had been attending to make sure none of the aforementioned premises had been ‘serving intoxicated patrons’, as if the standard for being drunk in a bar is a clear limit and no mildly drunk person has ever been removed or refused service while the guy a few metres away struggles to stand…

This entire escapade makes me think of the documentary I watched just prior to the News, on how female scorpions go about selecting which suitor they will allow to mate with them; performing a dance of sorts before settling on the fittest, strongest, most agile therefore the finest male, and only then accepting his insemination. Huh, if only people were so discerning.

…Come on, we all saw the CCTV footage – shit I’ve seen higher levels of intoxication at a young mothers’ book club – so no, I don’t believe this was so much about the booze as it was about the people doing the boozing.

In other words, it’s not what we’re drinking, it’s not even how we’re drinking – it’s who we are allowing to do the drinking.

Everybody needs to be made to secure a licence to imbibe and simply, if you’re a dickhead, you’ll soon lose yours.



Article by Tim Walker

Edited by Duncan D Kheds

Photography by Trop Keek

Tim Walker’s Sweet II

New Zealand health advocates have made clear their desire to follow the UK’s lead and impose a tax on high-sugar food and drink.

Personally, there is no more logical step the NZ Government could take: if 80% of the cost of cigarettes is currently taxation to cover the cost of the myriad diseases smoking causes, also alcohol tax to cover the sclerosis boozing causes, oh and, of course an exorbitant fuel tax to cover the ACC payouts that motoring causes, then surely somebody needs to be accumulating some sort of nest egg for twenty years down the track when half of every Kiwi suffers diabetes caused by excess sugar consumption…

The National Health Board is against the aforementioned levy, claiming ‘You increase the price of their sugary drinks, low income families are going to have to find an alternative…’

…A fine alternative to sweetened beverages is of course, water. Here in New Zealand we are lucky enough to have an abundant supply of fresh water; furthermore unlike some other countries where drinking water must be purchased in convenient plastic bottles, New Zealanders don’t need to pay for refreshment…

One silly woman claimed, “You can’t put up the price of our soft drink – it’s a bit of a treat for the kids when they’re good and it’s harmless enough.”

…Can anybody say ADHD? What about childhood obesity..? What about my very own nephews who, while not typically troublesome to get into bed at night, when slipped a late afternoon can of Coke by an awesome uncle, become abuzz with excitement and so much fun to be around – until half an hour past bedtime once the uncle’s gone home and the sugar-high’s worn off, the good-humour dissipates then along comes several hours of tantrum.

Sugar is currently accepted as a food to be avoided; in fact like cigarettes before it, courtesy of so much disdainful opinion, in this modern era sugar has been outright vilified.

Why then, unlike cigarettes before it, is it still being marketed and sold to our youth with such gusto?



Article by Tim Walker

Edited by Mark Atting

Photography by Dar Bill Stan-Deared

Tim Walker’s Fustigator III


I am seen to take a variety of forms yet all are ultimately the same thing.

I am a challenge to obtain and people are often reluctant to let me go.

I am said to have an uplifting odour yet to ingest me would be unpleasant.

I am a most sought after prize yet am the cause of much unhappiness.

I like to be kept secure yet am renowned for inspiring foolishness.

I am most important yet most avoid talking about me.

I am a great traveller yet I seldom see the sights.

I am under Government command yet am often complicit in illicit acts.

I was more commonly seen twenty years ago than I am today.

I am a compelling force yet have no physical strength.

I can display a multitude of colours but my biggest is red.

I am born in a place with the same name as an aromatic herb.

I contain no blood yet my travels are known as circulation.

I have a name which begins similarly to the right now or kind of a grape.








Last week’s Fustigator: Cobweb

Tim Walker’s Theory XXXIV

Located approximately 150 million kilometres from Earth is our closest star; we call this fiery behemoth, Sun.

According to my own schoolboy knowledge Earth’s Sun is composed primarily of hydrogen gas – sources go on to say it is exactly 73.46% hydrogen – and (explanation for knowing the precise consistency of such a far off entity notwithstanding) if there’s one thing we ought to remember about hydrogen through the Hindenburg calamity or, more to the point schoolboy chemistry experiments, it’s that hydrogen gas is mightily flammable, or inflammable, I forget.

This explains the heat but there is one area that while the majority appear to be in acceptance, I am certain there are still a great many people who have posed the question: who is stoking the fire; how is it being stoked? Who, in God’s name, is keeping up the fuel supply to this seemingly insatiable inferno?

This week’s theory therefore pertains to the total opposite of what readers surely expected I was going assert: I do not believe, even with its apparent shortage of winter stock in the woodshed, that the Sun, our Sun, will ever burn out.

While it is a fact that this star is essentially aflame without its fuel source ever needing replenishing, this does not mean that one day it will simply run out of combustible material.

The issue with our feeble human minds is, in a word, comprehension. Most of us will struggle to comprehend something as infinitely expansive as the Universe simply because we have never needed to visualise anything so utterly vast; even to comprehend the sheer mass of one of the stars inhabiting that Universe, while of course some of us probably think we can, for our tiny human brains, is somewhere close to impossible…

As mentioned in a previous post – I think Theory III – given that our Universe comprises millions of Suns all with the potential to propagate life on other planets, of which there must be millions more in orbit of each of those Suns, the chances of life existing somewhere other than planet Earth are in fact extremely likely. (I feel that digression was just about as pointless as it was entertaining.)

…The fact that our Sun burns around four billion kilograms of mass per second is, oddly, inconsequential – although when we cast our minds back to Einstein’s E=mc2 formula and realise that Energy is directly related to Mass multiplied by the Constant speed of light inside a vacuum squared, we understand that to burn so much mass is to indubitably create a whole lot of energy – in that this is an entity of such unimaginable hugeness that to burn even the aforementioned amount of mass actually has no noticeable effect on either its size, its gravitational pull or thankfully, its ability to further produce energy.

Even with nothing to top up its reserves, at its current rate of ‘evaporation’ our Sun would take an estimated fourteen trillion years to burn through its stores; now if we consider that the Universe is said to be only twelve billion years old…

Take into account furthermore that people have only been aware of the Sun’s existence for a shade over two thousand years – the revelation that we orbit it rather than it orbiting us coming even more recently – and we see that this is a mere iota of its projected lifespan.

…Fear not, good people: I therefore theorise that the human race will annihilate itself long before our Sun gives up on us.



Article by Tim Walker

Edited by Sonny Day

Photography by Dee Ark Knight