My existential opposition to John Banks goes back a long time. Way back before this blog started, further back than even the original gFBT website, where I fought against John Banks' monomaniacal philosophy in Auckland's council chambers on behalf of the strip clubs and brothels.
It goes further back than his time as Minister of Police under the previous National government, where Banks' lobotomised pitbull was unleashed. But we're getting warmer. The 90's were the hey-day of those two devoted Muldoon groupies, John Banks and Winston Peters.
My first experience of John Banks' wafer-thin narrow-mindedness first became apparent in the early 90's. The old man knew Banks, and appeared on Radio Pacific talkback with him. They got along like a house on fire.
The bunker vision was astounding, possibly a result of too much time alone in the maimai. At least I could understand my father's misanthropy. He was a lawyer, after all. But he was well read, whereas John Banks was... not.
John Banks has no time for the Other. Other people's lives, other people's ideas, other people's stories. Hell, even to this day, Banks has only watched three movies; Spice Girls, Laramie, and Sound of Music. Which begs the question of which is narrower, his mind or his DVD collection?
I've said it before and I'll say it again; I'd rather cough blood than vote for John Banks. Alas, it is up to the voters of Epsom to determine whether the richest suburb in the land wants to be represented by the thickest twig in the thicket.
