Washed up on the shores of Sydney Harbour. No marmite, no music and no mercy from the locals. The whispers in the dark of night, the cries of drunken joy in the early hours of the morning and the slow burning madness of a mixed up, shook up, muddled up, upside down world.
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
The forces of oppression
Who guards the guards? Who Polices the Police?
Fans of The Pop Group might well be familiar with the above. The paranoic rantings of Mark Stewart or a stark reminder to us all? Given the gung-ho revenue generation tactics of the local police it might be a question worth investigating a little further.
So far, the police have managed to sting me for in excess of $2500 over the last 18 months. There is little or no recourse to these roadside muggings. And when questioned the common response is "Who's the judge going to believe?"
Of course my quibbling fades into insignifigance when put up against other peoples circumstances but I can't help but feel that something is ever so slightly rotten in the state of ...
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