Most Australians know little about the domestic politics of their vowel-chewing neighbors across the ditch, and as a result of our focus on things far more important we find ourselves sometimes susceptible to the craven, self-aggrandising nonsense that emanates from the forked tongues of relevance-seeking non-entities whose utterings fill the fish and chips wrappers of the wee little land at the end of the world as we know it.

Take for example the indignant diatribe spewed forth yesterday by the blink and you would have missed it one-time New Zealand Labor leader David Shearer, a no-name bum in a conga line of bums that assembled hoping to fill the void created by Helen Clark’s departure, and who was unceremoniously punted in favor of an even more unpopular right-wing wanker named David after his public approval rating plunged rapidly and dangerously into single figures when the Kiwi public glanced closely at him and saw only an even bigger void and about ten tons of hot air.

For those Australians who have never heard of Shearer – which is just under a back-line of a rugby sevens team short of everyone – the erudite rambler is nothing but a right-wing wannabe who not that long ago had the whole world handed to him on a sterling silver-plated platter replete with spoon after the party hierarchy decided to ride rough-shed over its loyal local members and gift him the prize seat of Mt Albert despite the fact that the relative unknown had only blown in from offshore about an hour and a half before the preselection closed.

To get where I’m coming from here and why I’m so vitriolic about this half-baked bum, what you need to understand is that Mt Albert – the electorate that Shearer slipped seamlessly into without doing a second’s worth of the usual hard on the ground party slog – is a seat that prior to Shearer planting his self-important arse in it had been occupied by just 3 members in the three score and ten years since its 1946 creation, each of them sporting a Labour Party rosette, including the MP who held the seat prior to Shearer, none other than the former Kiwi PM and latter-day UN Secretary-General candidate Helen Clark herself, who was none too happy that Shearer’s supporters had surreptitiously schemed him the nomination, but was too busy chasing her own self-ambitious rainbows to do anything about it other than to frown and in her own inimitable style back-stab and white-ant him behind closed doors.

Despite Aunty Helen’s hidden vitriol however, the plan hatched by Clark’s sworn enemies was executed and after a brief sojourn on the back benches Shearer was quickly elevated to the Labor leadership, but the dead-set drongo who wouldn’t know a half-decent political strategy from a hole in a poor life-long abused 14-year-old Papatoetoe streetwalker’s sphincter promptly proved himself to be the 21st century Kiwi incarnation of Terry Molloy, and due to his own ineptitude ended up exactly where his abilities decreed that he should land, which was smack bang in the center of Palooka-ville.

I’m being a bit harsh on the halfwit you reckon?

Then let me expand, just the way that the grubs who take advantage of young girls vulnerabilities and drug addictions expand a little brown girl that they’ve picked up on a dirty suburban street’s arse by sticking their puss-ridden pedophile cocks in the abused and abandoned kids cornhole, then magnanimously flinging the malnourished barely pubescent pussy-peddler a few Kiwi pesos after they have dumped their evil load in a place that no 13-year-old should know that scum’s cum can rest.


Shearer grew up in the South Auckland suburb of Papatoetoe where these horrendous sex-crimes are blatantly and publicly committed – in fact he proudly boasts that he was the head boy of the local high school, located less than 500m from the corner where the kids hawk their young forks – and while he may have come from the white right side of the tracks rather than the poverty-ridden Polynesian other side, the one-time Labour leader and latter-day critic of Aussie immigration policy knows full well about the crimes that are being committed against children every night of every week of every year on the main street of his own childhood hood.


In fact every Aucklander knows what goes on at Hunters Hill, and all about the crimes perpetrated there, yet rather than rail against the injustices inflicted on famished little girls who by virtue of neglect and the injustices of life are forced to suck fifty year old men’s cocks in the back seat of a clapped-out Corolla  that the poor children can buy a can of corned beef to fill their little sibling’s starving stomach because their drug-addicted mother won’t, the pompous pontificating politician Shearer instead elects to take aim at the bipartisan foreign policies of the Wide Brown Nation and decry our inhumanity toward cashed-up, scheming illegal immigrants who knowingly and willingly pay people smugglers five-figure sums to assist them to furtively slip across our borders and flagrantly breach our national sovereignty.

Hypocrites are as hypocrites do, and if David Shearer wants to enter into a Trans-Tasman debate about the inalienable rights of human beings then I’m happy to march up to the rostrum and take him on any day of the week.

Let’s start right here shall we Mr D*ckhead David Shearer, and on behalf of the decent-minded and moral citizens of the Sunburnt Country let me ask you the simple question of how do you explain this Sunshine?


What’s written above is an excerpt from an article that the faux-outraged arsehole who is attempting to clamber his way back to the NZ Labour leadership over the carcass of the terminally unpopular current incumbent Andrew Little wrote when at a time when he was supposedly heading a United Nations humanitarian program, and do you see what I see that David Shearer asserted sportfans?

That governments need to control their territory.

Gee whiz genius? Really? Funny that.

Governments also need to keep their nation’s kids safe, and representatives of governments – in particular those who have been parachuted into parliament on the back of their reputations earning 6 figure salaries running humanitarian programs for Save the Children – need to to stop talking the big-noting talk and instead walk the righteous path walk and protect the vulnerable youngsters in their own backyards who they know are being exploited by evildoers and turned into legally-unable-to-give-consent victims of crime each and every night of the week.

Stop turning a blind eye to the little lambs whose innocence is being shorn just down the road from your own electoral office Mr Shearer.

Charity begins at home f*ckwit. So start cleaning up the human rights abuses in your own backyard before you deign to criticise ours.