The rightful conviction of Sophie Elliot’s killer – that full of himself Ranga, Clayton Weatherston, – for murder; has reminded the Saint just why he detests smart-arse, defence lawyers so much.
The Ginger tosser’s defence team – consisting of another ugly Ginga - Judith Abbott-Kerr - and the perennial defender of criminal scum - Greg King – and the methods they employed in trying to get Weatherston off have only gone to further decrease the already poor reputation of the law fraternity in the eyes of the general public.
What’s worse is you can bet that their well paid, amoral legal actions were funded by you and me – the long suffering taxpayer – as the self-proclaimed well hung, genius Dr Weatherston would not have had to shell out for this pair of sharks fees and their provocation defence tactics.
If anything good has come out of the gutless attack orchestrated on the character of the innocent Sophie Elliot – carried out by Weatherston, but aided and abetted by Abbot-Kerr and King’s tactics, is that Justice Minister Simon Power is moving fast to close the loop hole of provocation as a defence for murder.
Undoubtedly, the inevitable whines of “injustice” will emanated out the mouths of defence lawyers about this move from the likes of Abbot-Kerr, King - and their fellow bottom-feeding legal colleagues such as Chris Comesky, Peter Williams and Barry Hart. However, the general populous will applaud this decision – especially if it saves good and innocent families of victims – like Sophie Elliot’s parents – having to endure their child’s reputation being unfairly dragged through the mud in a desperate attempt to justify a murdering maggot’s actions.
The Saint understands that there is already a bounty out amongst the country’s incarcerated fraternity on Weatherston’s life. What do they say about honour among thieves? So it looks like Sophie Elliot will get some real justice after all – let’s just hope her blood and that of her murderer’s finally pricks the conscious of defence lawyers around the country that it is not ok to use any means necessary to get their clients’ off a rap.
However, it is doubtful that such smug and superior types as the Greg Kings and Judith Abbott-Kerrs of this world will pay any attention and only go on to prove this old adage:
What is the difference between a dog fish and a defence lawyer?
One is a scum-sucking, bottom feeder and the other is a form of marine life!
Friday, July 24, 2009
Friday, July 17, 2009
Getting sucked in by the Lemon Detox Diet
During the past week, the Saint embarked on one of the more foolish endeavours he has endured during his time on this planet - the Lemon Detox diet (LDD)!
What? Yip, old mugsy decided to give the latest fad in supposed weight loss a burst. Now just what possessed yours truly - who is supposed to be reasonably well-educated, somewhat worldly-wise and avid cynic about most things in life - to go down this track is a little hard to explain. However, suffice to say a combination of middle-aged spread, winter discontent and encouragement from the management led me to give it a go. I guess the seduction of imagining my less than cut torso being magically transformed into an Adonis version after a week on the LDD was a key catalyst.
So after visiting one of the the snake-oil shops - ie "health stores" - pawning this latest fad on the general populace and shelling out 120 bucks, I had all the necessary ingredients to make up the LDD and was all set to go.
And just what do these ingredients consist of I hear you ask? A paperback book of instructions of about 100 pages, a two-side brochure showing how to make up the "magic" drink, a one litre tin of "miracle" syrup, a 50 gram bag of cayenne pepper and 20 "special" herbal tea bags. How about them lemons?
Well, just like those toys you got as a kid, where the batteries were not included - believe it or not - the $120 kit pack for the Lemon Detox Diet did not include lemons.
Despite such a glaring omission, which did not set off alarm bells of derision in the Saint's mind - who obviously was still captivated by his soon-to-be Michael Phelps-like physique - continued on his foolish citrus fruit-fuelled way.
So Sunday night, after a 'last supper', the LDD began in earnest. That night a drink of 'special' herbal - supposed bowel movement inducing - tea was dutifully consumed. Also prepared was the two litres of liquid which was to be the sole component of any sustenance for the next 7-10 days while on the LDD. This drink mix consisted of 120 mls of "magical" syrup, 140 mls of lemon juice (hand squeezed from about 6 lemons), a pinch or two of cayenne pepper with the rest made up of water.
Let's just say after three-long days of starvation, living on nothing more than this sickly liquid, as well as two to three cups of laxative tea - the Saint called it quits before a splitting headache, hunger pains and liquid bowel movements lead to imminent death or suicide.
So what was the outcome of the LDD - apart from what has been graphically detailed above?
Any weight loss? Don't know, as I did not have access to bathroom scales and failed to weigh myself before starting or when finishing. Was I healthy, energised and detoxified afterwards. No - more like lethargic, bored and starving.
However, it is likely I did drop a few pounds - as would anyone who starves themselves for three days - but the weight is now probably back.
At least I have a new appreciation for food and a renewed cynicism for quick and easy miracle cures.
Lessons learnt. If i want to lose weight in the future - I'll just eat less and exercise more.
So it is not all sour grapes - or more correctly - lemons as it should be in this case!
What? Yip, old mugsy decided to give the latest fad in supposed weight loss a burst. Now just what possessed yours truly - who is supposed to be reasonably well-educated, somewhat worldly-wise and avid cynic about most things in life - to go down this track is a little hard to explain. However, suffice to say a combination of middle-aged spread, winter discontent and encouragement from the management led me to give it a go. I guess the seduction of imagining my less than cut torso being magically transformed into an Adonis version after a week on the LDD was a key catalyst.
So after visiting one of the the snake-oil shops - ie "health stores" - pawning this latest fad on the general populace and shelling out 120 bucks, I had all the necessary ingredients to make up the LDD and was all set to go.
And just what do these ingredients consist of I hear you ask? A paperback book of instructions of about 100 pages, a two-side brochure showing how to make up the "magic" drink, a one litre tin of "miracle" syrup, a 50 gram bag of cayenne pepper and 20 "special" herbal tea bags. How about them lemons?
Well, just like those toys you got as a kid, where the batteries were not included - believe it or not - the $120 kit pack for the Lemon Detox Diet did not include lemons.
Despite such a glaring omission, which did not set off alarm bells of derision in the Saint's mind - who obviously was still captivated by his soon-to-be Michael Phelps-like physique - continued on his foolish citrus fruit-fuelled way.
So Sunday night, after a 'last supper', the LDD began in earnest. That night a drink of 'special' herbal - supposed bowel movement inducing - tea was dutifully consumed. Also prepared was the two litres of liquid which was to be the sole component of any sustenance for the next 7-10 days while on the LDD. This drink mix consisted of 120 mls of "magical" syrup, 140 mls of lemon juice (hand squeezed from about 6 lemons), a pinch or two of cayenne pepper with the rest made up of water.
Let's just say after three-long days of starvation, living on nothing more than this sickly liquid, as well as two to three cups of laxative tea - the Saint called it quits before a splitting headache, hunger pains and liquid bowel movements lead to imminent death or suicide.
So what was the outcome of the LDD - apart from what has been graphically detailed above?
Any weight loss? Don't know, as I did not have access to bathroom scales and failed to weigh myself before starting or when finishing. Was I healthy, energised and detoxified afterwards. No - more like lethargic, bored and starving.
However, it is likely I did drop a few pounds - as would anyone who starves themselves for three days - but the weight is now probably back.
At least I have a new appreciation for food and a renewed cynicism for quick and easy miracle cures.
Lessons learnt. If i want to lose weight in the future - I'll just eat less and exercise more.
So it is not all sour grapes - or more correctly - lemons as it should be in this case!
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Quack, Quack, Quack...
The Saint is reminded of the saying: "if it walks like a duck and talks like a duck; then it is probably a duck", at the recent deaths of the three boy racers in Invercargill.
Jesse Langeveld, 19, Tylar Parry, 16, and Ethan Peek, 16, lost their lives when the modified car Jesse was driving slammed into a wall after clipping a parking meter and spinning out of control for more than 100 metres. Police say the car was travelling at well over 120kmh and the boys had been drinking.
Despite overwhelming evidence - and none more so than the Tui beer stickers adorning the coffins of the Invercargill teens - indicating in all probability that all three were indeed card-carrying boy racers; their family and friends tried to claim otherwise.
However, despite their protestations, the facts speak for themselves. Three teenagers, hooning around town in a souped-up car, fuelled by alcohol and they are not boy racers! As their favourite beer billboards say - Yeah, right!
Then to endure the site of most of the those attending the funerals; only reinforced their deceased friends bogan-itis (how about that for a new word) with their behaviour. The Saint is not sure what planet the white trash family and friends of the dearly departed came from, but on planet earth Tui beer labels plastered on coffins and a family spokesman - in a Tui cap - urging the congregation at one of the funerals to "keep cruising" and "party hard", before leading them in in a drinking song - did not do much for dispelling any rumours about their supposed non boy-racer associations.
In this case, the Saint honestly suggests the demise of these three boys is no great loss to the human gene pool. Here's an idea for a Tui billboard - which I am not sure if the deceased's friends and families would see the irony in: "Jesse, Tylar and Ethan were not boy racers. Yeah, right!"
Jesse Langeveld, 19, Tylar Parry, 16, and Ethan Peek, 16, lost their lives when the modified car Jesse was driving slammed into a wall after clipping a parking meter and spinning out of control for more than 100 metres. Police say the car was travelling at well over 120kmh and the boys had been drinking.
Despite overwhelming evidence - and none more so than the Tui beer stickers adorning the coffins of the Invercargill teens - indicating in all probability that all three were indeed card-carrying boy racers; their family and friends tried to claim otherwise.
However, despite their protestations, the facts speak for themselves. Three teenagers, hooning around town in a souped-up car, fuelled by alcohol and they are not boy racers! As their favourite beer billboards say - Yeah, right!
Then to endure the site of most of the those attending the funerals; only reinforced their deceased friends bogan-itis (how about that for a new word) with their behaviour. The Saint is not sure what planet the white trash family and friends of the dearly departed came from, but on planet earth Tui beer labels plastered on coffins and a family spokesman - in a Tui cap - urging the congregation at one of the funerals to "keep cruising" and "party hard", before leading them in in a drinking song - did not do much for dispelling any rumours about their supposed non boy-racer associations.
In this case, the Saint honestly suggests the demise of these three boys is no great loss to the human gene pool. Here's an idea for a Tui billboard - which I am not sure if the deceased's friends and families would see the irony in: "Jesse, Tylar and Ethan were not boy racers. Yeah, right!"
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Can Winston moonwalk?
The Saint reckons just like Jurassic Park - the extremely bad, Hollywood blockbuster about dinosaurs making a comeback on planet earth - New Zealand's political equivalent of the Tyrannosaurus Rex, Winston Raymond Peters, has finally come out of hibernation.
And similar to a bear that comes out of his cave after a long winter of slumber, old Winny is as bad tempered, cagey and evasive as ever. Winston has decided to make a comeback, nearly a year since he and his horrible lot were kicked into touch by voters at the 2008 election general.
His demise was much to the relief and delight of most thinking New Zealanders. That is except for the core group of oldies, red necks, malcontents, grumpies and nutters who will vote for Winston no matter what ... until they die. [The good news is that more and more of this bunch of Alzheimer suffers - also known as NZ First supporters - will die each year, meaning there will be less and less of them in time.]
Anyway, these hardcore NZ First supporters will have emptied their catheters and been rattling their walkers in pure excitement after seeing their demi-god back on the TV and returning from the political wilderness again.
For them; Winston's Lazarus-like return, spewing his well-versed lines about separatism, dishonesty and conspiracy theories would have been like the sweet music of WW2 darling Vera Lynn to the ears for this backward-looking bunch of cemetery fodder.
Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending where you stand on the political spectrum, for both Winston and his supporters his messages were about as fresh as the old war horse's suit and tie - which happened to be exactly the same as when he exited stage left on election night.
So the Saint suggests that Winston's scaremongering and fanciful claims are likely to have a similar smell and taste to the general public as his policies did at the last election - somewhat stale and well passed their used-by-date!
Let's hope that just like his polices and core supporters, Winston Peters chances of making a comeback in election 2011 are about as dead as Michael Jackson!
And similar to a bear that comes out of his cave after a long winter of slumber, old Winny is as bad tempered, cagey and evasive as ever. Winston has decided to make a comeback, nearly a year since he and his horrible lot were kicked into touch by voters at the 2008 election general.
His demise was much to the relief and delight of most thinking New Zealanders. That is except for the core group of oldies, red necks, malcontents, grumpies and nutters who will vote for Winston no matter what ... until they die. [The good news is that more and more of this bunch of Alzheimer suffers - also known as NZ First supporters - will die each year, meaning there will be less and less of them in time.]
Anyway, these hardcore NZ First supporters will have emptied their catheters and been rattling their walkers in pure excitement after seeing their demi-god back on the TV and returning from the political wilderness again.
For them; Winston's Lazarus-like return, spewing his well-versed lines about separatism, dishonesty and conspiracy theories would have been like the sweet music of WW2 darling Vera Lynn to the ears for this backward-looking bunch of cemetery fodder.
Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending where you stand on the political spectrum, for both Winston and his supporters his messages were about as fresh as the old war horse's suit and tie - which happened to be exactly the same as when he exited stage left on election night.
So the Saint suggests that Winston's scaremongering and fanciful claims are likely to have a similar smell and taste to the general public as his policies did at the last election - somewhat stale and well passed their used-by-date!
Let's hope that just like his polices and core supporters, Winston Peters chances of making a comeback in election 2011 are about as dead as Michael Jackson!
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