Good, honest, hard-working Kiwi folk are being duped by the influx of Indian witch doctors in Auckland.

These so called ‘healers’ are in many cases taking Aucklanders for hundreds of dollars for essentially providing the assurance that through their mystical channels they will heal them of physical or often, mental anguish.

Sounds like a scam, right? Someone claiming to be able to heal by simply ‘wishing’ away their pain..? Yeah, right. It’s no surprise then that New Zealanders have ridiculed and written off these witch doctors as conventional con-artists…

Hang on, let’s not be too pushy; surely if these Indian healers believe in what they’re pushing, that makes it a legitimate practise. Far as I can see in today’s world, if you believe in a cause, that’s as good as reality; isn’t that the principle behind all religion?

How dare those narrow-minded Auckland bigots claim that because this supposed witchery is too far out for them to fathom, that it must be a scam? No one has ever seen or heard from this fabled Lord Jesus yet I’m certain each week a percentage of Auckland citizens happily offer money to their church, under the pretence that it will directly benefit their existence.

These Indian witch doctors might well be running a scam but so is every religion in the world; the only difference is that we are less familiar with this scam.

Give it time.

Article by Tim Walker

Edited by Indy N Heeler

Photography by Ray Lee Gus Skimmer

I’ve heard of a spit-beetle and a spit-bucket, even a spit-puddle or a spit-pool if you like, but a Spit-hill..?

Dean Barker appears to forgone whatever grudges he once held over Jimmy Spithill, the pair openly sharing pleasantries while posing for a television camera.

Unsurprising really that the smile has returned to Barker’s face after signing what one can only imagine is a lucrative deal, as skipper and CEO of Japanese yachting challenger, Softbank Team Japan.

As for the smarmy but frustratingly svelte and indeed charismatic skipper of Oracle Team USA, Jimmy Spithill, well, his team and he has been accused of cheating after that inexplicable comeback in the last America’s Cup final; although in fairness New Zealand never has been good at accepting defeat from Australians.

Best of luck to Mr Barker and may he enjoy every success as captain of another vessel; just remember, if Team NZ can’t take part next time around citing financial difficulties, it’s probably only because Grant Dalton demands a more than half million dollar salary.

Hard to believe New Zealand still considers Spithill the shithead.

Article by Tim Walker

Edited by Tame Dalton

Photography by Ray Gutter

During the journey to Christchurch last Thursday night I noticed my car engine’s typically rhythmic purr undergoing a very occasional missed combustion.

It felt it misfire once around twenty minutes in then again ten minutes later…

Given that I have in the past replaced the majority of my car’s ignition system my thoughts immediately went to the fuel filter which incidentally, I’ve not replaced in over seven service intervals.

…As I bumped over the curb to my jiu-jitsu class that evening the engine responded to the momentum shift by giving a few more splutters – behaviour typical of a blocked fuel filter – before I shut it off the engine and went inside.

Two hours later I took my seat and turned the ignition. The engine started effortlessly. I drove out of Annex then Blenheim Roads without issue and it wasn’t until some time later, on reaching Rolleston supermarket that the car truly started to worry me; idling around the car park looking for a space it was spluttering terribly, and projections of having to call upon the AA were fast becoming reality.

Half an hour later I returned to the drivers’ seat, threw my bags on the passenger side and turned the key. The engine hummed like a high-performance engine should. I put the car in gear and started coasting out of the car park. The engine started to misfire badly. I reached the road and fearing the car would stall if I allowed the revs to fall too low, keeping up momentum I drove over the curb a lot faster than I ordinarily would, hearing my front spoiler crunch into the road as I left the car park. Some very loud cursing later I was safely cruising in the direction of home.

Parking the car in the garage I made a quick mental note to, second thing tomorrow, disconnect the fuel filter, take it for a stroll down to the local servo and grab a replacement. No trouble.

Next morning, having fulfilled the obligatory morning tasks, I ducked out to my car, looking so chic in the morning sun…

“Hard to believe,” I recall thought/mumbling, “that such beauty could be the cause of so much stress…” I have an additional recollection of my brain then being flooded with further examples of beautiful things resulting in inordinate stress levels and left it at that.

…I popped the bonnet catch, pushed the car back half a metre, went around the front and lifted the bonnet. My eyes immediately fell on the fuel filter, mounted on the firewall in all its shiny steel glory, illustrating the reason that I have avoided replacing it for so long; it’s rather an expensive component that in fact doesn’t require such regular replacement as some others.

Nevertheless pulling on my bush-mechanic’s hat I spun around to my toolbox and selected the required tools for fuel filter replacement. Spinning back once more, devoid of prescription vision enhancement, I eyed my target while thought/mumbling, “What if I do this and it still doesn’t run right, what then?” Somewhere in the course of the aforementioned consideration I must have placed my tools on the engine’s radiator and was absentmindedly, as we bush-mechanics sometimes do while a car bonnet is up, ensuring good connection between the spark plugs and associated leads. I recall checking number one spark plug lead on the left before absentmindedly moving to number two, number three then casting my eye back to the supposedly offending fuel filter, with my thumb and forefinger I pushed on the rubber insulator of the number four spark plug connection…

It feels peculiar. It doesn’t feel at all like it should. Granted I am working blind, not looking where I’m feeling and such, but I have mindlessly checked my car’s spark plug connection often enough to know when something is not right.

…I look down and astigmatised vision notwithstanding what I see shocks me. Although I’m glad that I won’t have to replace my fuel filter after all, I am still a little perplexed as to how the hell I’m supposed to go about replacing one of these without having to buy a whole new set..?

(That’s long enough for now; I’ll finish it later.)

Article by Tim Walker

Edited by Thess A Rat

Photography by Indi Con-Krushon

After recently intercepting the biggest haul of methamphetamine in New Zealand history Customs officials are impressed with their efforts.

Customs minister Nicky Wagner shares similar sentiments of success, with total drug seizures over the last six months reportedly being worth up to $246 million on New Zealand streets.

Grand as this total surely is and wonderful as it must be for the friends and families of those lives otherwise ruined by drugs – particularly methamphetamine – equally phenomenal I think is the level of ingenuity shown by these drug traffickers; it is truly amazing to see the lengths to which these people will go to ensure their substances gain entry to the country.

From packing meth precursor into a bicycle frame to filling the handle of a hairbrush with finished product, it is obvious to me that the people behind this illicit trickery are wasted in the drug trade. With such brilliant imagination and clear determination instead of wasting their time packing drugs into the frames of kids’ toys, these guys need to be putting that creativity to work making and developing kids’ toys.

It’s no secret to me that drug takers are an imaginative people; when I was first shown a homemade bucket bong and was given the explanation of how and moreover why it was effective, I was genuinely amazed. On top of imagination these people had included knowledge of physics, chemistry and, perhaps less impressively, plumbing.

There is a whole breed of people out there who have fallen victim to the lifestyle promised by the sale of illicit substances – corrupted by the ease of drug production, seduced by the allure of drug money – but think if these fine minds had been put to work in some other industry, some other capacity, think how productive those lives might have been.

More to the point, wouldn’t the world be a sweeter place?

Article by Tim Walker

Edited by Moth Ampher Tymine

Photography by Gene E Ust

I heard a rumour recently that the next ice age is set to make its presence felt within the next fifteen years.

That doesn’t surprise me particularly and even if this rumour is bollocks, I believe there is merit to the theory. Going back a few years now, according to those people in the know, the entire globe was experiencing what we laymen refer to as, the ice age. As I am not one who knows a great deal about archaeology, fossil records or the like, I have no reason to disbelieve this postulation.

Therefore, and this is the point where I start offering my expertise which sadly is based less on facts and evidence, and more on passion and predictions, it is my concurring belief that another so called ice age is imminent. My theory, you see, is one of cycles; I have no idea when the next ice age will come because, well, I have no idea when the last one occurred.

Enhancing the credibility that another ice age is nigh is my other belief that, to put it very bluntly indeed, the 21^st century is the one that will kill our planet. We simply have too many people, we are using too many resources, thus generating too many bi-products and too much waste so yes, I believe the 21^st is the one that will do it. That doesn’t mean you should go off on some inane agreeable tangent and start speculating and ranting about when the sun’s going to burn out or some shit like that because honestly, what are the chances, I mean, where’s the evidence; where are the facts which say there is a finite supply of inflammable gases in our infinite universe meaning that in 80 years’ time, the sun will stop burning? Exactly; that’s stupidity. Stop talking.

No, I’m saying that within the next hundred years I forecast the earth will undergo a process of extreme cooling caused most probably by prolonged Northern and Southern Hemispheric winters more or less merging and revert to the icy sphere it was back when it was. Of course this impending ice age will be so inhospitable that all life, rather, most life will perish and whatever doesn’t, over the coming millions of years, will spawn the newest generation of whatever the hell.

Ultimately the earth will start again; regenerating life as we have come to know it, propagating similar races, religions and creeds to once again, a few thousand years after civilised life has been established, slowly devastate planet Earth’s ecosystem and begin yet another cycle.

My name is Tim Walker and that’s this has been this week’s instalment of ‘Theory’.

Article by Tim Walker

Edited by I Sage

Photography by Ima Coole

A racially slurring Work and Income employee has fallen afoul of minority races across the North.

The aforementioned incident took place one Night at a Taupo bar where the Work and Income New Zealand worker was heard to refer to a Polynesian bouncer using ‘the N word’; they were promptly removed from the premises.

Makes me wonder though, what goes through the head of some drunks? The doorman in question in fact foresaw the acrimony unfolding and had the presence of mind to film the ordeal, leaving the accused in a decidedly untenable position.

The other thing concerning me is this so called ‘N word’ that pops up on the News every Now and again. Whenever I hear a News story – this one included – where the reporter talks about someone using ‘the N word’ I wonder: what could be so bad about this word beginning with N that they feel unable to articulate it in full?

I’ve been through in my head most every N word I kNow and honestly, None of them are that bad. I can understand many of them being used as insults (except Nice, unless they said Not Nice, but then that’d be two N words, wouldn’t it) but for them to be so taboo as to Not be able to broadcast them on National television..?

I mean, Nefarious, is pretty shocking but it’s not that bad. Nob, is reasonably insulting also but I believe it’s usually spelled with a K. Numb, is harmless by itself but couple it with another, Numbskull, and it becomes quite bad as well. Obviously, Nincompoop, is one of the worst words anybody can call anyone, but I’m pretty sure I’ve heard that on the news; I’ve read it in picture books anyway.

I know a few more N words too but none of them are that bad – certainly no worse than Nincompoop.

Article by Tim Walker

Edited by Nina Com Pauper

Photography by Ray Shale Slur

At what point did a high security prison sentence in New Zealand become less a disciplinary measure and more a leisure activity?

Further footage has been released of Mount Eden’s prison inmates doing not only as they please but essentially upholding the run of the place. These videos have depicted rampant drug and alcohol usage as well as a very laid-back and easy-going atmosphere…

I always thought the idea of going to prison was supposed to be so repugnant, so very terrifying that after such consideration a life of unequivocal law-abiding would follow. As it turns out though, jail for these guys is nothing but an ulterior existence boasting all the comforts and modern conveniences of home life.

…Leading me to wonder, how much are prison staff being paid to look the other way? As stated previously, this entire escapade smacks of corruption.

Regarding supposedly misappropriated funds, then there’s the story of the Kiwi bloke who had a baby with that Armenian woman who then deserted them because it turned out the kid suffered Down’s Syndrome and a Down’s Syndrome child in her land would bring nothing but disgrace so the man went about setting up an online fundraising page which thanks largely to the goodwill of idiots amassed around $600,000 then smelling money, of course the woman came back to him. Now though, he’s being accused of spending the $600,000 improperly…

Fortunately there were various contracts and other lawful documents written up to denote precisely how this man ought to have been spending his money thereby ensuring sensible financial allocation – oh wait, no there wasn’t.

…It was one of those silly online fundraising ventures that no one really understands but where people are compelled to donate because they believe it will benefit their karma allotment or some shit like that.

In this instance, more than ever, my general belief that people are idiots is greatly reinforced. Those online fundraising sites are based around nothing but goodwill; also known as naivety. There is never anything to suggest the person receiving your money will do with it as they say they will, yet you silly people insist on giving it to them anyway.

Almost hard to believe those people locked away in Mount Eden are the only ones we consider crooks.

Article by Tim Walker

Edited by Prez N Staff

Photography by Clark N Digger

The first rule of prison fight club: make sure someone’s getting it on camera.

According to video evidence inmates in Auckland’s Mount Eden prison have been engaging in their very own version of Fight Club.

Despite cellular telecommunications devices being prohibited items in jail, that’s precisely what these guys are using to capture the footage before uploading it to YouTube.

A criminologist has been heard calling it ‘Shocking, disgraceful, unforgivable…’ but as I see it, probably more shocking, disgraceful and unforgivable are the crimes these thugs committed to end up in New Zealand’s most well known prison.

Supposedly this fighting is taking place as a form of ‘gang initiation’ or related senseless ordeal but personally, the whole thing smacks of Correction Department corruption – the fact these inmates even have cell phones on which to record the brawling, the fact these inmates have an uninterrupted location in which to conduct the brawling; the fact these Mount Eden prison inmates are partaking in these kinds of liberal antics at all.

Chances are somebody’s making money from it. That’s how these things usually work. Reminiscent of idiot graffiti artists around the world who have found a way to cash in on their vandalism of freight trains by videoing the act then uploading it to the God-forsaken Internet, what they’re doing is really no better than extortion – these people are producing nothing of value, they’re benefitting nobody and it’s only people’s innate lack of willpower that forces them to view it in the first instance.

The Internet has provided the world with an infinite wealth of knowledge at our fingertips, yet we insist on clogging its channels with inane videos of pillocks being pillocks, and cats being cute.

Article by Tim Walker

Edited by Ton Turn Nett

Photography by Prison Hilton Ltd

If a car overtakes on a State Highway One passing lane and no one is around to see it does the line of traffic still speed up for the duration then slow down again afterwards, or is it just my imagination?

The reality is, through empirical channels I have sourced the answer to what might just be the greatest riddle of our modern age. During a recent journey from Hornby to Burnham, as I have done countless times before but never been compelled to document on account of what I perceived as ‘circumstantial behaviourisms’ – which is to say I always saw a possible factor of mitigation amid the aforementioned, ghastly motoring antics – I noted the behaviour of those cars around me.

This time the ignorant driving habits I witnessed were unequivocal and quite simply, incorrigible.

Cruising through Templeton a particularly slow vehicle held the 70 kph limit at a steady 60 but once we hit the 100, courtesy of a cleverly positioned passing lane, we all made it to somewhere around 95 kph. This speed didn’t bother me; I don’t ever expect to maintain 100 kph on this stretch as I am aware this is the way cars roll on SH1. The queue reached the next passing lane where I was the last of three vehicles to overtake…

It should be noted that as stated, ordinarily I wouldn’t have bothered trying to maintain a higher speed; this was strictly for research purposes.

…Pulling back in scarcely before the end of the double lanes my convoy of three powered up to 102 where I stopped accelerating; seemingly wanting to push 110 the preceding two drew slowly away until they had a number of kilometres on me.

Nevertheless, from 102 kph it wasn’t long before, once again, I could read the licence plate of the second convoy member. We presently dropped back to 95 then to 90 kph. There was another passing lane looming ahead. I felt it; I knew my convoy leaders were going to go for it. The double lines opened up. Two cars ahead of me pulled out from under each other’s rear bumpers and accelerated hard…

Someone needs to teach these people that the most effective way to overtake another car is in fact not starting from a few centimetres behind its rear bumper – especially when they’re both operating four cylinder Japanese cars with a decidedly low collective torque output.

…They needn’t have bothered. From my position at the rear of a three-car convoy I witness these cars pull away from me, but make little impression on the cars in front of them. It was the most awesome thing to watch: the entire line of around six cars in the left of the passing lane all sped up in unison, as if something had suddenly shunted them from 90 to 110. By the end of the double lines these two convoy leaders with their dilatory whiplash technique, fell back into line behind the very cars they had just been trying to overtake.

From 102 it only takes a minute for me to again read the licence plate of the preceding car; I look behind to see the nose of the truck my convoy passed in Templeton. As expected, we are all travelling at a steady 95 kph.

Article by Tim Walker

Edited by S H Wan

Photography by I M Parsing

It was while listening to the radio yesterday afternoon that I heard possibly the most horrific public error in speech on record.

For the record, it wasn’t even so much the erroneous speech pattern that bothered me but the person behind it; if Judy Bailey is the mother of the nation, this lady must surely be the drunken aunty.

Family relations aside Hilary Barry is the glue that holds together TV3’s evening news broadcast and as much respect as I have for this delightful woman, to hear an advertisement play out on The Rock radio for that evening’s show; to hear the mistake regarding proper usage of first-person pronouns – “…so join Mike and I tonight for Three News…” – was simply unforgivable.

To clarify, the correct grammar would have been, “So join Mike and me tonight for Three News”. It’s not even that difficult to work out: which sounds better – ‘Join me tonight’, or ‘Join I tonight’? There you go.

The thing is I am aware that when news reporters, readers and anchors write their content, or have it written for them as it may be, they have editors to go over the lines thereby ensuring correct etiquette, proper grammar and ultimately, so the person reading the story doesn’t come off like a dim-witted twat. I understand furthermore that in some applications it is favourable to use colloquial or more of a slang dialect but in this instance, ‘Join Mike and I tonight’, it just sounded laboured.

The worst thing, this is far from an isolated gaffe. Ashley Tulloch is a wonderful reporter with her attractive appearance and over-expressive features, but she has made some rippers. I understand her desire to refer to post-match sports teams as having given anywhere up to 150 percent; that’s hyperbole for effect and, much as it infuriates me, I realise it’s an accepted part of broadcasting. I think it’s when, bless her pretty heart, she becomes excited and perhaps forgets her exact lines so no, second thoughts, I’ll leave her out of this.

Then there’s Andrew Gourdie, TV3’s other sports reader. Try as he might to channel a sophisticated manner, this guy is to word mis-usage what the cast of the Simpsons is to quirky catchphrases: I can’t think how many times I’ve heard him use the word ‘careen’ – tilt a ship sideways – in place of ‘career’ – drive quickly or uncontrollably. A car cannot ‘careen out of control’. A car ‘careers out of control’.

I don’t know. There are people paid good salaries to ensure proper usage of the English language is being upheld and quite simply, they are not doing their jobs.

This is the shit that keeps me up at night.

Article by Tim Walker

Edited by Hilary Bailey

Photography by Mothers T Nation