SkyCity incident involving Paul Henry raises an interesting question about bigotry towards bigots

A small confession: Alf is not averse to a bit of biffo, in appropriate circumstances.

Another confession: he happens to regard Paul Henry as fondly as he regards a moth or fly that has flown on a kamikaze mission into his whisky.

And thirdly, as a firm believer in human rights, Alf staunchly stands by a bloke’s right to be a bigot.

Accordingly he feels tempted to take a dim view of the fellow who has been accused of assaulting Paul Henry and who allegedly told police the television presenter was “a racist and a bigot who should expect consequences for his views”.

Guilt- it must be emphasised – has yet to be established.

Questions perhaps need asking about the knickers that Jackie Blue gets in a twist on gender issues

Alf has been musing on whether he should modify the masthead on this blog.

The question is whether it would help or hamper him if he added a few words to make absolutely plain something he has always imagined is absolutely plain.

That is, he should declare to his constituents he is a bloke.

This declaration of masculinity – he has been led to believe – is necessary to distinguish him from politicians who happen to be female.

Jackie Blue, a former colleague who gave up her job as an MP to become a  champion of equal opportunities, is someone who believes this gender distinction is necessary.

She has been banging on about it in conversation with Paul Henry, who might have become an MP, too, if he had much appeal to voters, which he didn’t.

Come to think of it, he should have made much more of being a bloke, when he was campaigning to become MP for Wairarapa, because he was beaten by a sheila who once was a bloke.

Todd needs to learn that some people will always disagree with him – and saying sorry is silly

Gotta have a word with one of our young-buck MPs, next time we are back in Parliament.

Clutha-Southland’s Todd Barclay has just done something that suggests he must have been eating much too much southern swede and his judgement has been impaired by this diet of stuff that’s best left for cows and sheep to tuck into.

This Barclay plonker has a Facebook page, which is something Alf has eschewed, and on this page he has made a remark about Campbell Live.

As a consequence he seems to have quickly learned something that is well understood by people who are not raised on a diet of swede.

He has learned that if you say something, a lot of people will agree with you and a lot of people will disagree.

And if a lot of people don’t agree with you, then that’s just too bad. They are probably lefties or greenies who will never vote for you, so you should forget all about them and what they said.

And if you must tell them something, well, tell them to go and get fucked.

Paul Henry should try dropping the C word into his diatribe, now that the T word has been ruled OK

Alf hesitates to use the C word in polite company because it usually is rated the most offensive word in the English language.

Giving offence is best avoided when communicating with constituents, so it won’t be used here.

But the Grumbles are both interested in words and their meanings, and when Mrs Grumble went googling for the meaning of the C word she found this at the top of the page of suggested sites:

a woman’s genitals.

an unpleasant or stupid person.

Alf prefers to talk of “naughty bits” (in the former case) and “tosser”, “plonker” or “moron” when he is writing about unpleasant or stupid people.

In his vocabulary the words “greenies” and “lefties” similarly are apt to be unpleasant or stupid people.

If Murray Deaker had been watching his P’s and Q’s, he would have avoided the N word

The Dambusters with Guy Gibson (Richard Todd) and his dog whose name should not be mentioned in polite company.

So what does sports commentator Murray Deaker have in common with a celebrity hairdresser and a perfumier? They have all startled people and maybe upset some by using the N word.

The thing is, it has become increasingly naughty to use the N word over recent decades as attitudes change and its offensiveness is increased.

Alf wouldn’t mind betting he would be in bigger trouble if he publicly used the N word than if he brought the C word into play.

Margaret Mutu tells us more about the mystical matter of Maori and menstruation

Uh, oh. Looks like anyone who takes Alf’s advice and protests against Te Papa for basing its policies on superstition could be in for a rough ride.

Chances are such champions of common sense and progress will suffer the same fate as Paul Henry, and be denounced as racists, or as culturally insensitive, or something.

Alf sounds this note of caution on learning that Margaret Mutu has got in on the act after the Dom Post revealed that pregnant or menstruating women are being discriminated against at Te Papa “for their own safety.”

She has gone out to bat for the idea that pregnant and menstruating women must be kept out of certain areas, which happen to include gardens and fishing grounds as well as Te Papa.

Talking about fat – isn’t that a fitting word to describe Michael Laws’ mouth?

Alf shares David Farrar’s disapproval of Radio host Michael Laws for calling Governor-General Sir Anand Satyanand a “large, fat man” who has “never left” the buffet table.

The absurdity of the remark is obvious to a clear-thinking bloke like Alf: most New Zealanders have seen photos of Sir Anand at functions, such as investiture ceremonies, where he is nowhere near a buffet table.

He has to leave the buffet table to do the paper work that turns bills into laws.

And while Alf has not actually seen the GG in bed, he imagines he does sleep in one, and not on a buffet tble.

And so on…

In short, Laws has been lean on facts and obese on fatuousness.

Erotic calendar is a winner with Alf – but muzzling the malcontents has its merits

Mrs Grumble is considering something similar for John Key's birthday.

A battle of the calendars is being waged in Russia, prompting Alf’s mates at the Eketahuna Club to muse on how a similar battle might shape up in this country.

In Russia, 12 scantily clad women oozing praise for Vladimir Putin are stacked up against six stern-looking female students demanding human rights.

Alf reckons it’s a no-contest, simply on a numbers basis – six versus 12.

Oh, and then there’s the advantage the pro-Putin mob has gained by stripping to their undies, which means they are much better clad for combat of this sort.

It’s all happening at Moscow State University, according to news reports sweeping the world, after the publishing on Thursday of an erotic calendar by students at the university’s journalism faculty in celebration of Prime Minister Vladimir Putin’s birthday.

When India gives its dalits a fair shake, maybe we can take its racism complaints more seriously

Dalit street sweeper.

So Paul Henry is a bloody big dipstick.

Yep, we know that.

And he is popular with TVNZ viewers.

Yep, we know that, too, which presumably means TVNZ is watched by lots of dipsticks.

And yep, he has an overwhelming urge to express his racist thoughts on air when they flit into his head, which seems to be quite often.

He will even share them with the PM.

Our Governor-General has had the great good sense not to make a fuss about racist remarks to which he was subjected by the irrepresslble Henry (irrepressible until his bosses suspended the bugger, that is).

But if we muzzle Paul Henry, don’t we have to muzzle the Duke of Edinburgh, too?

Well, well, well. Look who is demanding more than an apology from TV presenter Paul Henry over the daft comments he made about Governor-General Sir Anand Satyanand.

Yep. The bloody Race Relations Commissioner.

Most people – Alf supposes – know that Henry was interviewing Prime Minister John Key when he suggested Sir Anand’s successor should look and sound more like a New Zealander.

“Are you going to choose a New Zealander who looks and sounds like a New Zealander this time … Are we going to go for someone who is more like a New Zealander this time?”

Oooh. Crass, provocative and highly offensive.

Racist, too, let’s make no mistake.