Late last year, the Republic of Victoriastan rejected a bid to review the state’s self-defence laws. The proposed review would have tasked the Victorian Law Reform Commission with examining the application of the Common Law ‘castle doctrine’, which allows individuals to use potentially deadly force against intruders threatening their property or personal safety. Even the thoroughly cowed Brits are allowed to use self-defense, including lethal force, against an intruder if they reasonably believe they are in danger of death or serious bodily harm.
Victorians have no such Common Law rights. Because, Labor, the Greens and the Animal Justice Party, piously intoned, “expanding self-defence rights could escalate violence”.
It’s too late for that: mass immigration, especially from Africa, has already escalated violence plenty. And Victorians needn’t bother even calling the police, even if ‘diversity teens’ are literally trying to force their way in.
Take, for instance, a recent episode in Cranbourne East, where a citizen was treated to the quintessential modern Victorian policing experience: total, abject abandonment. Courtesy of Mike Bush, whom Good Oil readers might fondly recall. A beleaguered resident took to a local community forum to vent his spleen after an African youth decided his mother’s threshold made a fine target for a broad daylight battering.
“At approximately 4pm this afternoon, the usual suspect was at my mum’s front door actively trying to break it down while my little sister was home alone. He then jumped the back fence and tried to get in the back doors,” he said.
“She was terrified and called for police assistance while he was literally at the front door attempting to get inside. Despite this, police did not attend. We later found him walking a few streets away and cornered him, and made multiple further calls to police. We are still waiting for police to attend.”
We are left to wonder what sort of existential crisis a taxpayer must endure before the state constabulary deigns to show up. Must the citizenry roll out a red carpet and offer canapés? They could try posting about it on their socials, which would certainly bring the rozzers running – if only to arrest them for ‘dangerous misinformation’.
“We don’t want to take matters into our own hands. That’s exactly why we call the police. But when you repeatedly ask for help during what appears to be an active break-in and nobody shows up, it leaves people feeling completely abandoned.”
Naturally, the locals were less than surprised. While suburban homes are treated as free-fire zones for roving bands of enrichment specialists, Victoria Police appear to have vastly more pressing engagements, such as extracting revenue from motorists trundling along the choked freeways. Why bother apprehending a violent home invader when there is an un-fined motorist just waiting to be clipped for doing three kilometres over the limit?
This institutional paralysis is not merely an unfortunate run of bad luck: it is the logical terminus of a demographic experiment foisted upon the populace by well-meaning utopians who refuse to look at a spreadsheet. Official Victoria Police data paints a picture so stark that even the most hardened multicultural zealot should blanch. Statistically speaking, African migrants have demonstrated an enthusiastic penchant for breaking and entering, tracking at nearly 90 times the rate of the general population for home invasions, alongside a rather robust over-representation in violent crime writ large.
And before the data-wranglers in the premier’s department start hyperventilating, it is worth noting that this statistical portrait is remarkably conservative. The figures capture only those born on the African continent: second-generation arrivals, those fine young Australians of African descent who frequently grace our courts for machete-wielding escapades, slip neatly out of the demographic categorisation entirely.
One need only look to nearby Parklink Drive to see how these cultural enrichers spend their afternoons. We are treated to recurring episodes where teenagers are hunted down in broad daylight with machetes and batons over turf disputes or petty grievances, requiring hospital visits while the perpetrators scatter into the wind.
Yet, when the citizen calls for assistance, they are met with empty phone lines and administrative indifference. The message from the regime could not be clearer: you are entirely on your own. You may not possess a firearm, you may not possess a sturdy legal doctrine to defend your hearth and you certainly cannot rely upon the state to answer the phone when the jungle comes knocking at your front door.
Someone might get hurt.
