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Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.

The name-calling began almost as soon as it became public that I had been nominated and accepted as a candidate for Council in the Otamatea ward of Kaipara’s local body elections.

I was included in a ‘hit piece’ that principally maligned mayoral candidate Victoria de la Varis Woodcock on the basis that she belonged to the Voices for Freedom group. Championing freedom and speaking about it?  How subversive can ya get? The article’s ad hominem slander of myself was based upon my published work here on The BFD.

However, the piece didn’t and can’t challenge a single fact stated in any of my articles.

It also said that I had refused to respond to contact. This is simply a bald-faced lie. My contact details are publicly available and easily accessed. I was not contacted. Any complaints in this area are usually due more to my over-responding. In my 14 years writing for the “Focus” I responded to every email I received. I figured it was part of the territory. Sometimes it took me hours. Try to stop me from responding and see how you get on. profworzel@gmail.com

It was then gleefully brought to my attention by a mate at the squash club that I had made the list of ‘dangerous extremists’ published by another peddler of fake news and woke propaganda that passes for much of modern media.

Since it suits my accusers to charge me in the court of popular approval I offer the following as evidence.

I was a weird kid who would volunteer to be the first in the middle at bullrush. Never one of the ‘glory boys’, I just loved tackling those that thought they were. I was sports mad but back then with an absence of cell phones and drama classes we all were. With a face that had never known a razor I played my first game of senior rugby at 17. It probably wouldn‘t be allowed these days. I always had my boots with me and would play any game going for anyone who would have me. It is in such soil that open-side flankers are grown.

It may be that this may be seen as extreme, if so then I suppose I was an extremist from an early age. I confess that I am extremely sad that my country and its culture which has given me so much has been hijacked by base and venal people with prideful hearts and selfish agendas.

I am extremely annoyed that in this land of plenty we have a stripped-out middle class and increasing numbers of poor people living in cars or under bridges while transgender-friendly toilet blocks are built in Wellsford at a cost of 1.2 million bucks. So much for the Kiwi can-do, no. 8 fencing wire legacy. I prefer to piss in the bush anyway.

The ‘dangerous’ tag though might be a more difficult charge to address. It is true I was once a bouncer at an Auckland pub.

Being deemed too scrawny for the public bar I got the cushy job in the bottle store. On the few occasions that the ladies at the till instructed me to escort someone from the premises no one ever sustained significant injury. It turns out that angry drunks are nowhere near as handy as they think they are.

It is also true that part of a flankers job is to strike terror into the hearts of opposition inside backs. On one notable occasion when turning out for the all-conquering Otamatea premier side against the Kamo club their first five was a regular in the provincial team and a New Zealand Sevens’ representative.

In a defensive situation, it is wise to slow down a little when closing in on a target to cover the side step. However, they were in their own 22 and I went full steam to put pressure on the kick and maybe effect a charge down. He saw me coming and instead of kicking, sidestepped me. Back then I took such things as a personal insult. I wasn’t going to let it happen again. Later, we were ahead on the scoreboard but Kamo was on the attack. He tried to step me again but I dived sidelong and managed to grab a generous fist full of his shorts and incidentally what was behind those shorts. It was hardly a copybook tackle but it was more than effective at bringing him down. We later became teammates in the Northland side.

On September 21, 2021 I was assaulted by court security staff outside the Whangarei district courthouse. After refusing me entry to this once public building on the pretext that I was wearing an ‘inappropriate face covering’ I got my video camera and asked them to state, ‘for the record’ the reason why they were refusing me entry. They took umbrage at this and attacked me.

I managed to fend them off for sufficient time to hand the camera off to a bystander. I chose not to actively defend myself knowing as I did that the scales of ‘Justice’ are weighted in favour of the state. Even had I done so with four patched up and vested thugs against one sixty-year-old it’s unlikely I would have won that battle but I sure could’ve caused some collateral damage. It is a mistake I will not make again.

A friend in the car park called the cops who arrived 15 minutes too late to be any help. No one was charged with anything. Fortunately, I am no stranger to physical violence. I once quite literally had my no. 7 Northland jersey raked off my back by a Bay of Plenty forward pack. The Northland secretary of the time took the Jersey home, sewed it back together and presented it to me as a trophy. I donated it to a mate who collects such things.

Ministry of Justice has, so far, failed to comply with my request for a copy of their video surveillance footage of the incident. In the words of Judith Collins, “If you haven’t done anything wrong what have you got to hide?”

Politics, like rugby is a dirty game and sometimes the mud sticks. In my rugby days, I was always gutted if I missed selection for the playing team. This will not be true for me in politics: the game is less honest and the people involved are less courageous and of a lower calibre than the many teammates and adversaries I once knew on more level playing fields. I will not be unhappy not to get elected. I will be content to know I at least tried to do something to stop the rot.

I am a believer in Jesus Christ. I worship and endeavour to serve the creator father God who has no name but many titles one of which is ‘Prince of Peace’. Am I a ‘dangerous extremist’? I’ll leave that decision up to you, the jury. If maybe by today’s warped standards I am, then maybe we might do well to have a few more dangerous extremists in the ranks.

And Monza if by any chance you get to read this article I reckon you owe me a beer for the free penis extension therapy.

Cheers, Worzel

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