Photo: Dean Purcell

I was recently stopped at a police checkpoint in Ponsonby and breath-tested. I’d had a couple of glasses of wine with a meal and a small brandy with my coffee to follow. I didn’t expect to be over the limit or anywhere near the limit. And indeed I wasn’t.

If an experience I had many years ago, when we were somewhat less scrupulous about drinking and driving, is anything to go by, I could have had a great deal more to drink and still been under the limit.  

I’d had a rather fine dinner at Valerio’s in Parnell and been shouted to several grappa after the meal by our generous host. I was pissed as a newt. I would have asked Judy to drive, but she was  equally merry. It was 2am.

Halfway down Parnell Rise I was pulled over by a cop car. The cop asked me to step out of the vehicle onto the road, where I nervously and unsteadily blew into the breathalyser.  I knew I was a goner. I was on Top of the Morning at the time, and could look forward to my picture appearing on the front page of the Herald – RADIO HOST ON DRUNK DRIVING CHARGE.

‘That’s fine, sir,’ the cop said, ‘Have a nice evening.’

I couldn’t believe it. I have absolutely no doubt that I was unfit to drive, yet I was apparently under the limit. There’s was something wrong there. There still is.

What is wrong is the concept of having a limit at all. Because a limit allows the motorist to exercise his discretion as to whether he has had too much to drink to allow him to drive safely. He has to make a judgement. But the very fact that he has been drinking means that his judgement is impaired.

There are a number of areas where discretion is a dangerous thing. Allowing motorists to make up their own minds at what point they’ve had enough to drink is one.

Discretion in the enforcement of speed limits is another. It appears to be common knowledge that you can add at least 10% to the legal speed limit and not expect to be stopped or get a ticket. This means that the actual speed limit is 55K or 110K with many motorists using their discretion to round the figures up to ‘under 60′ in town or ‘under 120′ on the open road.

The corporal punishment of children is a third area. Section 59 of the Crimes Act allowed parents the discretion to decide what constituted ‘reasonable force’ when disciplining their offspring, with disastrous results. The law was amended to say that you can’t hit your children at all, other than to protect them from harm.

Those who oppose the amendment want the government to reinstate the parents’ discretion to decide what constitutes ‘a smack’, which would  be legal, and anything more than a smack, which would  not.  If they are successful, doubt  about the corporal punishment of children will be introduced where there is now no doubt.

The law which says it is illegal in New Zealand to hit your children  provides an excellent model for sensible legislation on drink-driving and speeding:  It should be illegal to drink and drive; it should be illegal to exceed the speed limit at all – no ifs, no buts, no discretion, no doubt.

It is madness to allow motorists the discretion to decide whether they are fit to drive after drinking; it is madness to informally allow motorists the discretion to go faster than the legal speed limits. In both cases the result is mayhem.  

Let’s make it illegal to drink and drive. Let’s maKe it illegal to exceed the speed limit by 1K. Let’s keep it illegal to hit kids.  No ifs, no buts, no discretion, no doubt.

I know – ‘Nanny State’.  Get a better argument!

GRANDCHILDREN AREN'T FOR SMACKING

Really exciting day yesterday. Got a job as an extra on the Russell Brown Show Media 7. It’s my favourite show and Russell is my hero. AND it was going to be all about smacking, and these people who want to smack their kids make me really, really cross. So I turn up at the studio and the nice receptionist asks me who I am and I tell her my name and that I’ve got a job as an extra on the Russell Brown Show and I’m playing a panellist. And she says, ‘Walk this way, Mr Edwards.’ And there’s drinks and crisps with onion dip (my favourite) and you get taken to make-up and everything. And Judy has told me to get the make-up lady to give me some eyelashes, which is sort of embarrassing, but I get the eyelashes anyway. And we go into the studio and are shown where to sit behind the desk. (Just like John Campbell or Paul Holmes) And I’m sitting in the middle, between Larry Baldock (who isn’t my hero) and a reporter whose name is Matt Nippert which I think is really funny. And Russell has to wear this thing in his ear so the producer can tell him the questions and he’s complaining that it’s uncomfortable and is spoiling the look of his jacket. And a lady tells the audience how to clap and somebody says, “We’re recording. Five seconds.” And my heart is pounding. And Russell introduces everybody and I’m going to be on the telly and I can hardly breathe. Then they show a really funny film and Russell starts to ask Mr Baldock really tough questions, which is why he is my hero. And it’s all so real and I’m so cross with Mr Baldock that I forget I’m an extra and start interrupting and asking Mr Baldock questions myself and saying quite rude things. And anyone who’s ever watched Ricky Gervais knows that extras are always trying to hog the limelight when they’re supposed to be seen and not heard and only speak when they’re spoken to. And Russell ignores my bad behaviour and goes on talking to Mr Baldock and the reporter with the funny name. And I keep quiet for a bit, but what Mr Baldock is saying is driving me nuts and I can’t help it and start interrupting again. And Russell is just brilliant and instead of getting cross makes a joke and says, “Maybe you should have your own show, Brian.” Which is a really funny idea. And then the show is over and Judy and I go home. And I’m upset because I’ve embarrassed myself and Judy says not to be silly. Anyway it was still really exciting and Russell is still my hero and I was going to tell you what Mr Baldock said, but the show is on the telly tonight and that would spoil the surprise. Well maybe I could tell you just one thing which Mr Baldock said which was the thing that got me crossest of all and made me forget my manners. Mr Baldock said that he smacks his grandchildren, with their parents’ permission of course. I’ve got ten grandchildren and I could never smack any of them. It’s hard to describe really. It’s just that I think the relationship between grandparents and grandchildren should be different than between parents and children. Grandchildren are there to be spoiled. Grandparents always say yes to everything (unless it’s going to hurt or something’s going to get broken of course). “Granddad, can I…? Nana, can we…? Of course you can, darling.” That’s the joy of being a grandparent that you can be so much more indulgent than you were as a parent. You’re there to lend a sympathetic ear, to be an unconditional friend, an ally. What’s that Helen Reddy song? “You and me against the world.” Being with your grandparents shouldn’t be just the same as being at home with Mum and Dad. It should be better. I can’t see how smacking could make it better. Anyway we’re off to Brisbane tomorrow for a few days. I like Brisbane. The sun is always shining and the buildings are really nice and we always stay at this really neat hotel just opposite the …….

A party to celebrate the possible return of legislation allowing parents to use ‘reasonable force’ to discipline their children! A celebration of the fact that 4 out of 5 New Zealanders want to regain the right to hit their kids!  Are these ‘no’ voters going to bring their own children along to the celebrations? And, if they are, just what will the children be celebrating?

I’ve had some harsh words to say about these people in the past. But none harsh enough. What sickos you are.

I can’t be sure whether James Louis Mason punched his 4-year-old son in the face. I wasn’t there. But people who were there and who gave evidence at Mason’s trial were convinced that he had assaulted the boy and, more importantly, so was the jury.

Mason has had a fair trial and that ought to be the end of the matter. It won’t be. Mason is likely to become the poster boy for the pro-smacking lobby. If  his performance last night on Sunday is anything to go by, he fits the bill perfectly.

Mason doesn’t deny hitting one of his boys. But he’s added to the smacking lobby’s lexicon of  ‘hitting’ euphemisms by defining what he did as ‘a flick’, which he demonstrated with considerable enthusiasm on the programme. It’s a drumming move apparently.

Nor was he at all embarrassed to admit that shouting and four-letter verbal abuse were part of his child-rearing repertoire. If you were going to keep your kids safe in this hostile world, they had to get the message loud and clear. The proof of the pudding was in the eating. His children, he told us, were still alive.

And if you were in any doubt that the Mason family were actually the Waltons reincarnated, there were all those pictures of dad kissing and cuddling his kids. Maybe that’s unfair. Maybe I’ve been in the industry too long not to suspect staged performances from people on the telly.

It was perhaps no accident that the item was fronted by Simon Mercep. It had all the feel of a Fair Go story, with Mason in the role of the victim, the wronged party. Uncharacteristically weak journalism, I thought. 

And there’s one quite curious thing here. If the pro-smacking lobby is right and the vast majority of New Zealanders oppose the new law, you might have expected an entirely different verdict.  Juries are quite capable of ignoring laws they consider  silly or unjust and bringing in what they consider sensible and fair verdicts. Either this jury was firmly convinced that Mason was guilty as charged or he was bloody unlucky to have struck 12 proponents of the nanny state.

Watch Part 1 of Sunday

And Part 2