|Tree-jacked in Christchurch.|
I pointed out to a taxi driver in Christchurch earlier this week the sheer volume of cones in his fair city. "I'd never noticed," he said with the nonchalance of someone trying not to engage an unbalanced person.
"Well there are," I reassured him.
We drove around for a few more minutes in uncomfortable silence.
"Bloody hell, you're right mate," he said.
"And do you know about the blood sport of your people?" I asked him, now that I had his interest.
"Conic destruction," I volunteered after getting nothing but another blank stare.
|Just in case you don't see the fence ...|
Well, it ain't funny now, according to the Christchurch Press story. $70,000 worth of not funny. That's how much companies are having to pay for replacement cones. As I reported last year, a cone amnesty is being offered in Taranaki. Turn in your illegally obtained cones and you won't be prosecuted.
I am glad that my diligent reporting on this silent national crisis is finally coming to the attention of authorities. Perhaps my two-year stint in this country will amount to a hill of beans, after all. Or at least reinforce the sanctity of innocent cones. Yeah, that would be a legacy.