Continuing in our very popular Migrant Tales series, first hand accounts of migrant life in New Zealand.

Today’s was sent in by a reader. His story is one of the bravest and most well written accounts E2NZ.org has received. If you are a professional about to migrate to New Zealand his tale is compulsory reading. It’s a long one, but worth staying with until the end.

Hello everyone… I suppose the best place to start, like so many other contributors to this site, with a big thank you to the administrators and contributors to E2NZ. I left NZ nearly a year and a half ago with great resentment and malice in my heart, vowing never to set foot in that miserable country ever again… (to which you would hear the catch cry of millions of kiwi’s “GOOD! You are not welcome here!) This sounds strange but after reading so many horror stories here, I found a sense of relief and justification for my negative attitude. Please don’t mistake this for Schadenfreude, or the pleasure found in the suffering of others, but the fact that I have finally been vindicated, that it wasn’t me who was the problem, I wasn’t the arsehole and yes, it is in fact, New Zealand is a country full of arseholes. Violent, aggressive, ignorant arseholes.

So let me begin my story, it’s a long one, and I don’t want this to be an emotional rant but I have been waiting for the energy to write this because I know it will be cathartic and a great way to finally close a chapter in my life that I will never want to revisit… And if it helps others, and more importantly, deters others from even considering moving to NZ, then the effort will be worthwhile.
I was born in Namibia as a Dutch citizen at a time of conflict and uncertainty, we moved to England where my sister was born and by the early ’80s we had moved to Australia where I spent my formative years. My life in North Queensland was idyllic. Golden beaches, warm sun and bronzed healthy happy people living in a true paradise. My Grandparents had a station (1000 km2!!) and every year we would spend months in Australia’s outback where I had the most amazing adventures which I still reflect upon fondly.

My life changed when my Mother divorced my father and she soon met a Kiwi. They decided that it would be good to live in NZ and in the early 90’s we moved to a small remote town in the central plateau, North Island NZ. I was excited and looked forward to my new life in a new country, I was excited about seeing snow and great mountains so I certainly had a positive attitude towards the move…. How naive…

So… my first experience of life in NZ begins in a very remote valley, an hours drive from a very small village. My stepfather had a house in this village which had tenants so he had arranged to stay with an old friend on a farm in this valley whilst the tenants were given a fair and reasonable opportunity to find new accommodation. My parents agreed to pay this “friend”, board to cover the costs of our family living there… What can I say, this family could have come directly from a Stephen King novel, or a grindhouse movie… My stomach turns as I relive this experience. These people lived in squalor, the man, around 65 at the time was an illiterate psychopath, he left school at the age of 12 to tend to this farm. His first wife committed suicide by shooting herself in the head with a .303 rifle. He then met his second wife at a party, she was perhaps 30 years old, lucky if she was 155cm tall and two grown men would struggle to touch hands if they attempted to encircle her girth. She had a bald path on the crown of her head and what little hair she had was always greasy and lanky, her skin oily. She could easily have weighed 300 kg. She was a grotesque monster. He slept with this woman at this party and subsequently she fell pregnant. Naturally they married and she gave birth to a hideous little creature. This boy was 3 or 4 years old when I met him and he was an awful little animal, filthy, swore like a sailor, tortured animals, pissed in his bed and not once did I see any of these people shower or bath. The house was a despicable bomb site. My parents paid a considerable amount in board which was to include food. The evening meals in this household were the same every night. This woman would cook a shoulder of mutton and it would be left on the table and reheated every night until the thing was nothing but bone and gristle. This typically lasted a week. Flies would crawl on it throughout the day and occasionally you would see flies eggs on it which she would flick off with her filthy fingers.

The man was equally disgusting, unkempt, wild. He scared the hell out of me. He only had one set of clothes (to my knowledge) which he wore every day. Jean shorts, an orange woollen cardigan (the shorts held up by suspenders) and steel capped boots. One day, he kicked me up the backside with these boots so hard, directly on the coccyx, I couldn’t walk for an entire day I was in such pain. On a hot day, he would drop his pants around his knees and lift his top over his protruding belly and walk around in this fashion, however he didn’t wear underwear so he would expose himself to my mother and my 9 year old sister. I could continue, I could write a small novel on this first experience alone but I guess I should continue with the rest of my NZ experience…
SO… we eventually escaped this deliverance style nightmare to move to this little one horse town. The house was horrible, mouldy, cold and damp. the tenants had let the place turn to ruin… After our first experience we were already beginning to feel disheartened but then to move into this miserable cold house didn’t help matters. The tenants were known drug dealers (and burglars and violent thieves) and a newly acquired pet kitten soon discovered $20000 NZD worth of cannabis oil stashed in our shed which had apparently been forgotten by the ex-tenants. The police happily received it yet no further action was taken… (?!?!?!)

The summer holidays finally came to an end and so the time came for me to finally experience schooling and education in a rural community. Wow… what an experience…

Before I began schooling I was asked to sit an exam to establish which grade would be best for me. I sat the 5th form certificate exam which I passed with flying colours yet was still made to enter the year as a 4th form student, the reason given that the teachers thought it would be best for me to begin the year with students my own age… So basically the education I had received in Australia had given me a two year advantage over my NZ contemporaries… and to this day I still believe I was forced to join the 4th form so as to not highlight this embarrassing fact to those around me.

I reflect on my education in Australia and it was an environment that encouraged healthy competition. I recall my 9th grade Dean addressing my class at the beginning of the year. He asked us to look to the boy to the left of us, and to the boy to the right (I was very lucky to attend a prestigious boys school), he then suggested that those boys, although they are our friends, we will be in competition with each other for the best jobs and the best things in life for the rest of our lives… So you must always work hard and do your best…

Cue NZ…

Tall poppy syndrome is an expression used heavily on this site and I can vouch that it begins as early as school. I was immediately ostracised, mocked and bullied. Any efforts I made to excel in my schooling was met with contempt from my classmates. If a teacher asked the class a question, she/he would be met with silence, uncomfortable silence, and when I would put my hand up to answer, students would yell and mock me, sometimes aggressively, I even recall seeing a smirk on my science teachers face when met with abuse.

I would be mocked for wanting to answer questions, I would be mocked for not knowing the Maori word for vagina, I would be mocked for not wanting to play Rugby and they thought I was weird because all I wanted to do was lock myself in the artroom during lunch hour to escape the cretins surrounding me. I went from being a bright student that excelled in all subjects to being withdrawn and sullen and eventually I too became a “troublemaker” in an effort to fit in… Yet I dare not tease or mock my fellow students for fear of more bullying, it was my teachers who would receive my scorn when I would consistently draw attention to their ineptitude and backward ways… SO soon enough I was getting bullied by the teachers as well. I was in a living hell. Groups of boys would follow me and threaten me, and they would ambush me in corridors to fight. I would be tormented by them on the bus ride home and they would wait for me at the bus stop to continue fighting. I would have to run through the back entrances of shops on the main street to make it to my parents business to escape them only to be mocked that I was a pussy and a coward for not wanting to fight five kids at a time. The kids attending this school were tyrants, smoking and selling drugs, drinking alcohol, teenage pregnancy, violent crime and burglars. One boy who was a member of a very prominent Maori family in the area took a particular disliking to me, he was a black belt in karate or some such martial art and I was constantly trying to avoid him. One day he had his friends hold me whilst he beat me mercilessly yet nothing was done. Two years later he was involved in a violent home invasion where a wealthy market gardening family were held ransom, threatened with an axe, rumour has it that one of the women had been raped whilst one of the accomplices took another family member to an ATM to withdraw cash. This boy received four years in jail for this horrendous crime and I later learned that since he has been in and out of jail for domestic abuse.

When I was 17 I left home to return to Australia. I immediately got a well paying job and started enjoying life again. One would say too much perhaps and after a year of youthful exuberance and excess and one or two complicated relationships, I longed for the serenity and peaceful life I thought I had in NZ. I was exhausted and perhaps I wanted to regale the few friends I had with my tails of debauchery with the beautiful girls I had met in Australia. (I can personally state that Kiwi woman are generally quite Hideous) It didn’t take me long to regret this decision. To this day I am baffled as to why I returned, perhaps with my new found sense of worth, higher self esteem and greater confidence that things would be better. Wrong… I had established myself in a small apartment and it wasn’t long before my house had been burgled and I had been completely cleaned out. Everything I owned that I had worked so hard to acquire was gone. TV, stereo, VCR… family heirlooms my mother had given… gone. I was 18 and didn’t have insurance and I had reached a new low in my life. The Police investigated, they new who it was and nothing was done. I had my TV returned but that was it… I wanted to leave this house as soon as I could because I couldn’t face living there anymore, my landlord who was a supposed friend of the family and a devout Christian refused to give me my bond because a few breadcrumbs were found inside the oven… that really added insult to injury. I was now in a profound state of depression and suicide played heavily on my mind.

Suicide is an all to real problem in NZ, particularly rural NZ, with many farmers, youths, even professionals taking their own lives. Furthermore, the NZ lackadaisical approach to everything means that there are many industrial and farming accidents resulting in death… Then let us not forget the Kiwi’s attitude on the road. I have driven all over the world, all over Europe, through Italy during rush hour, through Soweto in South Africa, the maniacal roads in Turkey, yet I have never come across a bigger bunch of aggressive wankers then on NZ roads. The attitude there is that they own the road and anyone in any close proximity is an enemy who must be overtaken at all cost, and once overtaken, held up in an effort to be the most pig ignorant, arrogant and dangerous obstacle possible. They will swerve at you or cut you off in an effort to intimidate. They will gesticulate and swear at you threatening to kill you, their faces contorted in an utmost grotesque rage. Their resentment, jealousy and self loathing brimming over for all to see but heaven forbid if you get stuck at a traffic light with one of these sociopaths close behind. There have been numerous occasions where I have had to escape dangerous situations when an enraged intoxicated Maori or other has exited their vehicle desperate for a fight. They drive dangerous shit box cars without insurance or licences and some would seem to have nothing but the intention to kill on the road.

My point being, is that life in NZ means having to come to terms with death and violence but I digress.

I battled through this depression and managed to save enough to leave NZ again where I lived in London for three years. I had a kiwi girlfriend (she was also half Dutch), and she had saved my life. Together we found focus, we worked and saved and travelled and I had a wonderful three years in London but our Visa’s ran out and it was time to return to NZ. We had significant savings and decided to try out Auckland. The taste of big city life still sitting on the pallet and my miserable experiences in NZ a distant memory.

I soon joined the NZ Police… to begin the next chapter of my life.

To be fair the first few years in the Police was fun and interesting, but it also gave me a whole new insight into life in NZ… So much so that it inspired me to call my mother and thank her for being the most wonderful mother I could have ever hoped for. She and her husband had returned to Australia after they themselves had given up trying to make it in a system designed to make you fail. They had started a small business in this small town and after a few short years they had to declare bankruptcy. They were repeatedly targeted by burglars and thieves and were met with petty backstabbing and dishonesty. My mother was also working in the ministry, she is now a priest and she is the most dedicated and self giving person I have ever known and after constantly being let down and betrayed, they left NZ heartbroken and penniless. After a few short years in Australia, they bounced back, owning a wonderful big house, a number of rental properties and a life full of friendship and joy. All they had to do was leave that shithole country behind.

In the Police, I worked in Counties Manukau… The most wretched, miserable, impoverished and violent part of New Zealand… This really opened my eyes. I am not so naive to think that other cities in the world don’t have their troublesome areas but they don’t promote themselves as the clean green and safe haven NZ purports itself to be. Add to that that most jobs are found in Auckland and the only affordable area to live in Auckland for unsuspecting migrants is of course, Counties Manukau (CM). CM has a predominantly Maori/Pacific Island population with ever increasing numbers of Asian, Middle Eastern, Indian and South African immigrants. These new comers are sitting ducks for the disproportionate number of criminals living in the area. They specifically target certain ethnic groups thinking they have lots of money (and in relation to them you could say they do), and they take advantage of the fact that some groups distrust the banks so keep their wealth in gold hidden on the property. The Maori and PI population is an overwhelmingly dangerous and violent group of people, particularly the youths who are heavily involved in drugs, gangs and violence… Exacerbated by the methamphetamine pandemic, the violence is reaching horrific levels. In my 8 years of the Police, the last few years in the CIB including the Adult Sexual Assault team, I saw violence and deprivation that caused Post Traumatic stress on a number of occasions. From the top of my head, a young Vietnamese girl, 12 years old raped and repeatedly stabbed whilst she slept in her bed, left to die, a constant stream of domestic violence and rape which is considered a normal way of life. Drunken parties that escalate into riots with police having bottles and bricks thrown at them. Gangs selling Methamphetamine, getting young girls addicted and forcing them into prostitution. Older motorcycle gangs kidnapping girls to put them on the “block”, where they are fed drugs and alcohol and kept in a stupor while they are repeatedly and violently raped by any gang member that should feel so inclined, for as long as a week, just for their entertainment during one of their infamous parties. Drunken idiots driving high powered cars through urban areas and crashing into innocent vehicles/houses/pedestrians. I recall attending one accident where a 15 year old boy had been driving a Holden Commodore through a residential street, 150 km/h, the posted speed limit was 30 kp/h as the street was undergoing roadworks. The teenager lost control and crashed into three houses, completely destroying the facade of the third house. He walked away with a small scratch on his nose, however he had killed his girlfriend who was sitting in the back seat. A fence pale had impaled her neck, she was a beautiful young 15 year old girl with a life of promise ahead of her. I had the unenviable duty of informing her parents. They were English immigrants who had moved to NZ six months prior with the hope of giving their children a dream life in NZ. I will never forget the unearthly howl as her mother collapsed to the floor weeping. She then insisted I take her to the crash scene where her daughter was still in the demolished vehicle. She crawled into the back seat, and cradled her dead daughter in her arms and wailed while her father walked up and down the street in total disbelief. He looked at the skid marks left by the vehicle, over 100 meters in length and he asked me how fast the boy had been driving… What happened to the boy you ask? Not once did he show any remorse, he was filthy scum who got away scot free due to his age and went on to continue a life of crime while her broken family returned to the UK totally destroyed. Once again I can continue with another novel about my experiences alone in the NZ police, I haven’t even touched on the squalor these people live in, the welfare state providing homes at tax payers expense for generations of lazy ill educated animals who do nothing more than rut, consume drugs and alcohol, and express their undiagnosed mental illness in forms of gratuitous violence while the children they spawn are forced to live in houses with holes punched through walls, broken windows and shards of glass on the floor vying for real estate amongst used nappies, take away cartons with uneaten food, bone aching cold, dangerous mould, no food in the kitchens, attending school without shoes, jackets, normal things normal people take for granted in life. The poverty and desperation is rife and the system only provides an opportunity for this behaviour to continue in an ever growing cyclical fashion as each generation spawns more and more of these dead beats.

Once again I digress.

So after a number of years in the Police, I took the chance to take two years leave without pay and used the opportunity to return to London where I lived for another two years where I met my beautiful girlfriend, a very talented and creative soul. She was a fashion designer from Germany. We fell in love, my leave period had ended and once again I had to return to NZ. Shortly afterward my GF followed me where we excitedly began our new life together.

If you are still reading this I thank you for your persistence and I promise I am coming to the end of my short Novel!! This leads me to the last five years that I spent in NZ.. This time with my German girlfriend.I returned to my job in the Police and she began searching for a new job in fashion… which in NZ as you can imagine provided very few opportunities but it wasn’t long before she found a job in a small fashion label. She was very shocked at the very small amount they offered her in the way of remuneration considering her European experience with some of the most famous names in fashion. Regardless, we continued. In the 5 years we were there, we could not make any friends. The only friend we did make was from Holland and she is truly an amazing and supportive friend.

So let me tell you about the kiwi attitude and their small mindedness when it comes to meeting new people. So now we find ourselves rubbing shoulders with the Ponsonby elite. A bunch of hipster wankers who insist that NZ is the center of the world… If they had more imagination they would consider it the center of the universe but their little brains fail to see beyond their back yard. Two-faced people who when face to face, tell you how cool and wonderful you are and how great it is to meet you and then they will suggest to catch up for drinks or party and that we should see more of each other… only to never hear from them again. Ok, so friendship is a two way street you think so maybe the initiative should be yours? You invite these people to your house for a BBQ or a meal and they accept your invitation, and after great expense and effort to make your event special, you will wait hours to discover that these people won’t turn up nor even give you the common courtesy of a call or even text explaining that they can’t make it! Only to bump into these people a year later where they go through the same pantomime again! Oh you are so cool we should catch up blah blah blah. These people are rude, inconsiderate and egocentric. Their jealousy is palpable, their ignorance extreme. My girlfriend found herself being used as a general dogs body, paid a pittance and expected to do everything but what was provided in her job contract. Her boss was a pathetic man-child who had absolutely no talent whatsoever yet he was very capable of accepting all the praise for my girlfriends amazing work. After three years of use and abuse she mustered the courage to leave this dismal label and was quickly snapped up by another only to find that she was surrounded by another bunch of lazy talentless glory hogs. The then married couple who owned the label were the total personification of dysfunctional. She was a hormonal psycho partial to getting drunk at work and attacking her staff, biting one of her staff in a drunken rage during one disagreement, he was a 45 year old child who dressed as a little homie complete with baseball cap and board shorts who would run around hitting male staff in the balls and causing utter chaos… they often brought their children to use staff as defacto babysitters and these children were obnoxious, destructive chaotic spoiled brats. (not to mention their disgusting mutts that shit all over the place) My GF was really regretting her decision to join me in Retardicon 6…
At the same time I found myself in a horrible situation. The NZ police found itself in a crime epidemic and the people were getting fed up. Helen Clark announced her panacea.. to introduce 300 new cops on the streets of South Auckland. Rather than paying a decent wage in an effort to retain experienced staff, they would merely drop the recruiting standards and employ an influx of incapable idiots, often with criminal connections or dubious character. I found myself surrounded by immature 18 year olds or individuals with questionable motives and I was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Methamphatmine was being stolen from evidence rooms, complaints were being made about cops making sexual advances on young victims whilst on the job or after hours, money was being stolen from locker rooms, cops were arranging to buy stolen cars after hours to sell to wreckers… I was in total disillusionment. I decided to join the CIB and get involved in a more rewarding area of crime fighting only to find myself the victim of the most extreme bullying I have ever suffered, ironically from a woman. I was used to bullies in the Police, there is a lot of Macho testosterone fueled bullshit and one upmanship that you learn to deal with, but this was on another level.

She was my Detective Sergeant, a woman in her late forties, desperately single, desperately incompetent and convinced that every man in the office wanted her. She had mood swings that were unpredictable and dangerous. Numerous complaints had been made from many staff members about this woman, ranging from racism, homophobia to just downright unreasonable bullying. She was a Sergeant at the Royal New Zealand Police college and she had been kicked out for having sex with one of her recruits. She was the most emotionally unstable person I have ever met and unfortunately she had set her sights on me. I was the new kid on the block and I believe she wanted to break me. I would walk in the office and be met with a barage of insults, accusing me of one thing or another with wild eyes and even wilder gesticulation, I would stand there and take the abuse in front of my colleagues who would drop their heads in an effort to avoid her attention. I would return to my desk and within minutes she would come and sit on my desk, practically on my lap, laughing and giggling telling me how drunk she got the night prior, flicking and playing with the peroxide mop of straw she would call hair. She would wear tight satin pants that would show off every cellulite dimple in her colossal ass and a blouse with plunging neckline, her grotesque leathery udders bulging which she took great pleasure in dangling in front of your face. Complaints had been made about her before I joined the team and within the first week of joining, I had to attend a meeting with my team mates where a detective inspector made it quite clear that he had no intention of doing anything about the complaints and that we were to just suck it up and not make any further complaints which I am sure is against any workplace manual found anywhere in the world. After suffering constant psychological abuse, I was approached by a number of other Detective Sergeants who had assured me that they had personally witnessed the way she treated me and that they would offer their support in any way possible. She went on a weeks leave and my team mates held a meeting where they decided to enter a report of no confidence and buoyed by the new found support I was receiving, I decided to enter a personal statement to highlight what I was going through personally. Oh boy did the shit hit the fan. By this stage I had decided to leave the Police and didn’t care anymore so I was going to take this as far as I could. What a total waste of time and energy. She was removed from the team only to return a year later, whereas all of my team mates left to join the Police in Australia. I had been betrayed and let down, I was advised to see a Police psychiatrist and he was a total joke. He had no skill, empathy or interest in what he did and any advice given was pathetic at best. The only saving grace I had was knowing that I was leaving not only the Police but NZ as well where I vowed never to return as well as my GF. We hate New Zealand, plain and simple. Never have we been met with such horrible, dihonest, devious, decietful, lazy people.
We are proud clean intelligent people, artistic, creative and we take pride in our home yet in the five years we lived there, we got kicked out by the only two tenancies we occupied. The first, we lived in a little cottage close to the sea. The house was grossly overpriced and had poor amenities yet I chose this place because of its romantic location and I thought it would be a perfect wee love nest for my girlfriends arrival. My girlfriend decided to paint a couple of feature walls in the sea of boring beige, a lovely slate grey in the lounge room, and an Aubergine in the bedroom, we also had a lovely modern chrome and crystal chandelier installed in the dining room. A short time later the waste disposal unit broke down. I informed the landlord and he duly replaced it, leaving the bill with me on my dining table. I contacted him and told him that I shouldn’t be expected to pay for what was the chattels. The very next day we were contacted by the real estate agent giving us an eviction notice, the reason being we had painted two walls and had the chandelier installed without his permission. We took him to the Tenancy tribunal and thats where he really showed his true colours. He asked for thousands of dollars in damages including reimbursement for the venetian blinds I had thrown away. Whilst in the tribunal I left him red faced when I showed him the receipt for the blinds which I had bought… he was claiming hundreds of dollars for something that wasn’t his!!! And despite me showing without doubt that he was lying before the court, the Justice of the Peace found in his favour although we didn’t have to pay for the ridiculous amount he was claiming, only $500 to cover the cost of repainting the two walls. We would have won had we refused to leave the property yet we moved within a week solely out of pure insult and indignation. This decision basically rendered any complaint we made to the tribunal as null and void however there was no way we were going to give this evil horrible deceitful piece of shit any penny more of our hard earned money.

The second issue with our next tenancy happened after we moved into the next home. We loved this place, it was a small apartment situated at the back of a large property shared by our new landlords. They were a married couple with a young daughter and two cats. We lived there for four years, our schedules and lifestyles meant we didn’t see our landlords often but when we did it was always friendly and cordial. The one bedroom flat cost $360 a week, a ridiculous amount to pay for such small accommodation but it was nestled in the bush and truly was an idyllic paradise. We shared gifts and compliments, where we were often told that how happy the landlords were that they had taken us as tenants and how cool and wonderful we were. Their cats loved us as well, a little too much, and they ended up adopting us as their own. They slept with us every night and spent every waking moment with us. One day I was talking to the woman and discussing how we were coming to the end of our lives in NZ and that I would really miss the house but even more so how much I would miss the cats as we had truly fallen in love with them. They had become our children when the woman cheerfully remarked, “well you can keep them if you like! They clearly love you more than us!” I was flabbergasted and overcome with joy, I called my girlfriend at work and shared the good news, we were both crying with joy. Now we could really look forward to leaving NZ because the one thing emotionally tying us there was actually allowed to come with us! We couldn’t have been happier. Then, two months later I bumped into the woman. We had just come back from two weeks holiday… “Sorry” she says, “but while you were on holiday we got really attached to the cats again and we want to keep them…”
My heart broke. “Please don’t be disappointed” she says in a pathetically deprecative way. All I said in response was, and in a very calm and reasonable manner “it’s OK, I understand, I just wish you had never offered them in the first place because now I have to tell my GF that we can’t keep them and she will be heartbroken”. The woman’s face twisted in guilt and she walked away.
A week later we received a one line email informing us that we were being evicted… We couldn’t believe it! We had three months left to live in NZ and this is what they do to us. I called her on the phone and asked what was wrong, she claimed a load of bullshit how they were uncomfortable with us living there and that they needed the space for some bullshit reason. I pleaded to let us stay for the last three months to which she agreed but only after bumping the rent up to $400 a week. But before they had even agreed to let us stay we had decided to leave regardless. This was the final insult, the last knife in the back and the absolute epitome of everything that is wrong with NZ.

I have never met a bigger bunch of horrible, soulless, classless, rude, selfish and deceitful people in my life. There are very very few exceptions, in my count, four genuine kiwis who do not represent these qualities, otherwise the country is a shithole full of horrid horrid people.

There are no redeeming qualities that make NZ an attractive place to live. The cost of living is ridiculously high, our one bedroom studio apartment cost $360 a week, power in winter cost $350 a month, groceries for a young couple for a week cost between $200 to $300 although we enjoyed the finer things in life. Windows were constantly covered in condensation, resulting in mouldy window seals and carpets, our clothes would get mouldy and smelly in the wardrobe, we were constantly cleaning.

People ask why I left NZ and remark how beautiful it is… Bullshit. Ok a few nice beaches here and there if you are prepared to drive forever, otherwise a crowded Auckland beach will always be over run with Maori’s and Pacific Islanders who stake their claimes and spend the entire weekend entrenched, intimidating normal people, looking for fights, smashing glass, stealing and mugging and harassing the young girls. Mountains, yeah guess what, Europe has some of the most beautiful alpine regions in the world. I now live in Bavaria and have absolutely no problem finding places that equal if not exceed NZ in natural beauty, the only difference is in Europe you will be subject to culture, wonderful food, gorgeous architecture, genuinely friendly people, outstanding natural beauty. NZ Pure? NZ Pure bullshit!! The country is being raped and pillaged by huge corporations with no sense of social or environmental responsibility. Fracking, open strip mining, drilling for oil and gas, coal burning power stations, effluent and fertiliser run-off from the dairy industry and farming and other industries resulting in incredibly polluted waterways! Guess again if you think you could take a refreshing gulp of water from that pretty stream! Nearly all of NZ’s lowland waterways are polluted, some so much so you can’t even swim in them let alone drink… And so I believe all the highland waterways contain at the very least Giardia, so you cant even drink the water from alpine streams. Go to any city and the rivers and streams will be choked with shopping trolley’s, car batteries and car tyres and general filth and waste. The natural beauty that we as civilised people love, appreciate and cherish is wasted and abused by these people. They don’t care. They really don’t. The beautiful landscape? Most of the countryside consists of farmland that has been cleared of all native flora to make way for grass to feed cows and sheep. When you do find forest, don’t be surprised to find illegal dumping sites where people are too cheap or too lazy to deal with their waste responsibly, and rather than have the crap removed immediately, people will see it and decide fuck it and add their own crap. New Zealand is a paradox, there is a self defeatist attitude coupled with a refusal to accept that there can be a better way to do things or a better way to live life. It is like they are addicted to misery, and misery loves company so if they aren’t happy, they will do everything in their power to make sure you too share in their misery yet they will try and convince you they are living in Eutopia. They are pathetic and immature and relish childish gossip and small talk. Don’t ever think you will get a rewarding conversation from a kiwi and if you use words with more than one syllable you will be met immediately with distrust and skepticism.

Let me finish off with summing up my last year. I have been living in Germany and I have never been happier. I have made more friends in the past year than all of the years combined living in NZ. The German people are fantastic, welcoming, open and honest as the day is long. They don’t take bullshit and if they like you they will let you know. If they say to you, “we should go out for a drink”, you can put money down they will contact you before the week is through inviting you to something. They are fun loving people who enjoy a drink yet you will not see the sullen violence that accompanies Kiwi’s and their parties. German people are intelligent and you will never find the malicious sarcasm that accompanies Kiwi’s. They think that by making friends you have to insult people as much as possible and if they can “handle it” then they are worth their time. This sarcasm stems I believe from a deep rooted insecurity and a need to prove themselves to other people, which ends up resulting in a never ending pissing contest which is totally exhausting.

So in summary, NZ is a total shithole isolated in the arse end of the world. The people are miserable, many are subuman. The government and everyone else panders to the Maori’s in an attempt to redeem themselves for any perceived wrong doing during the colonial times yet they are a despicable race. Dirty, lazy and their concept of ownership is laughable… Basically if you’ve left your front door unlocked… actually forget that, you could lock your house up like Fort Knox and they will still find a way to run off with your prize possessions, only to be cooed by the Justice system and set free straight back into the community they terrorise. It’s been this way ever since the treaty of Waitangi, selling the same land multiple times to different buyers, murdering at will, selling their own women into prostitution and slavery and 200 years later they are still just as savage. They will gouge you at every opportunity, they sell out their own culture yet in the same breath accuse Europeans as being uncultured. It is a country of double standards and little to no opportunity. Injustice is rife, a violent murderer could get as little as seven years in Jail, out in 5. A young Maori broke into a campground in Taurangi and got into a camper of a Belgian couple with a small child. He raped this five year old girl while her parents were only meters away, he didn’t even get a custodial sentence however people all over NZ sent the poor family mountains of stuffed toys and a pittance in cash with the sentiment that please don’t think we are all like this filthy little rapist! If you are considering moving to NZ, DON’T…. I implore you, it will be the worst decision you could ever make and to those who would reply otherwise, I would humbly suggest that you are just trying to convince yourself because you have no other option. To do so would drive you insane. NZ has an uncanny way of trapping people, you get there, you get bled dry and then you are too impoverished to leave. I was fortunate in that I could escape. Why then do you ask did I return so many times? I really really tried to give NZ a chance. Really!! I am a positive person with a positive outlook with a love of Nature… I kept looking for excuses to be wrong and to give it another chance. Never again will I ever set foot in that country. I will never have a good thing to say. If you want to live there, more fool you, if you want to go there on holiday, you take your life in your own hands and run a very serious chance of being targeted by a filthy violent criminal.

If you must insist on spending a fortune on travelling to the other side of the world to experience nature and another culture, please visit Australia, it has everything NZ has and a million times more, the Aboriginal culture is far more interesting and unique and the people are friendly.

Thank you for reading and I hope this enlightened you”

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Analysis of a botched drugs case (Queenstown’s Mountain Scene)

…The more time officer in charge Constable Jason Reid spent in the witness box, the more the case was exposed as a disaster.

Judge Bernadette Farnan had only been sworn in this April. Before that she had extensive experience in the criminal court as a defence lawyer. The scale of mistakes and missteps turned from a trickle into a torrent that she simply could not ignore.

In her judgment, Farnan accuses Reid of being “reckless” and her exchanges with him during the hearing are telling. At one point she says of Reid’s language in a search warrant “it’s either laziness, sloppiness or dishonesty”…

…Reid took the stand on the afternoon of August 10. Within minutes of him being sworn in the case was in trouble.

Reid – called to SIT’s campus for an eviction with constable Zoe Albon on July 3 last year – admits pulling a bag of cannabis from the pocket of a man, referred to as Subject A. Const Reid removed the bag before invoking search powers – that is illegal…

He later admits sharing this information with a senior officer, detective sergeant Brian Cameron. Cameron checked over an unsigned memorandum – which neglects to mention the illegal search – provided by Reid to the defence.

Cameron’s advice to Reid: “It reads well to me, just send it as it is.”…

Reid is no rookie cop. He is a constable with 11 years’ experience. He has done his detective papers. For a while, he was a uniform attachment temporarily to Queenstown’s criminal investigation unit.

Defence lawyer Young accuses Reid of crossing the line, conducting an illegal search and overlooking evidence of drug dealing. He has done a deal, Young suggests, to get information from the suspects…

…surely outsiders could see his conduct as misleading?

Reid: “Yeah, an outsider could possibly come to that conclusion.”

An outsider would also note the league of senior officers assisting Reid on the case.

The station’s former top cop, senior sergeant John Fookes, signed a production order. Several sergeants and a detective sergeant have been involved to some degree.

An internal police inquiry is under way. It will no doubt focus on Reid’s actions. But it will be interesting to see if it attributes the failings to those of a single officer or to a wider systemic failure in the police. source