Jim Hopkins: Kiwis lead the way in embarrassment-free inquiries

Gosh, there are some silly countries in the world. Honestly! There are! We might find that hard to believe, living in a lovely place like this, but it's true! It really is!

Some countries are soooo silly they could change their name to Silli Arabia or Twitaly or Drongolia or even Winston Samoa and the only thing people would say is, "Huh! Should've happened years ago!"

Because they're silly. Really, really silly!

Heavens above, some of them - and you should make sure you're sitting down when you read this - some of them are so silly they don't even know how to run a proper inquiry. Seriously! That's absolutely true! Incredible as it may seem to lucky folk like us, they do not know how to run a proper inquiry.

You might like to mention that next time you're doing one of your world famous world tours, Mr arty-farty smarty-pants Sir Bob Geldof, sir.

And you might like to mention something else, too, or suggest. You might like to suggest that if these silly-billy countries had any sense at all, they'd swallow their nationalistic pride and hot-foot it straight down to Wellington so they could watch and listen and learn.

Because, if they did, golly gosh, we could certainly teach them a thing or two about how sensible people do things.

We could teach them how to be a proper, grown-up banana monarchy - just like us. We could teach them how a bit of good old-fashioned Kiwi ingenuity is a lot more use when you're in a spot of bother than all the silly constitutions in the world.

And we'd start these invaluable lessons in sensible government by teaching those silly countries how to run a sensible inquiry.

"Sit up straight," we'd say, quite firmly, because you have to be stern with a silly country, "and pay attention.

"Now, for starters, if you're going to have a sensible inquiry, it has to cost a sensible amount of money, let's say half a million dollars, give or take a few bob." So that people take it seriously.

"And it's got to drag on a bit. That's essential. The longer an inquiry lasts, the more likely people are to have lost interest or forgotten what it's all about when the report's finally released.

"Are you taking notes, Silli? And you, Canutter? This is serious stuff, you know. If you don't pay attention, you won't learn anything!"

Then we'd explain to those silly countries how the most important thing when you're running a sensible inquiry (apart from the money and the time and that) is to make absolutely certain it can never prove anything embarrassing.

And you certainly won't do that by doing what the silly countries do and have Special Prosecutors with special powers and all the rest of the Watergate malarkey. Good heavens, no!

If you absolutely must have an inquiry to root out shonkiness and dodginess and even corruption in high places, you don't set it up to succeed.

You set it up to fail!

There's none of that daft Nixonian nonsense where no stone's unturned and no tape's unplayed. People might have to resign with that sort of caper. Which is silly! Silly, silly, silly! No sensible government wants that.

So, when a sensible government has an inquiry, it makes sure that the key witnesses can't be forced to appear and key evidence can't be subpoenaed.

By such eminently sensible means it guarantees any verdict will never be anything more damaging than "errors of judgment".

"Errors of judgment." Nothing a quick course in "parliamentary ethics" can't fix. And, naturally, if a chap's got to do a quick course in "parliamentary ethics" he simply must stay in Parliament.

Which Mr Taito Phillip Field is, thank goodness. It's entirely the right and proper place for someone who employs illegal immigrants at less than minimum wages.

Oh, there we go. Listen to all those silly governments spluttering indignantly about exploitation!

Utter piffle!

In this country we have a word for bad people who exploit the entirely understandable desire of illegal immigrants to stay in the country by getting them to do a bit of work around the house (or houses) for next to no money.

We call those rotten sods "employers"! Boo! Hiss!

Heck, sometimes we even prosecute them.

But when a good person gets another lot of illegal immigrants to do the same sort of work around the house (or houses) for next-to-no money and then gives a very influential word in a very influential ear, we call that angel of mercy an "Associate Cabinet Minister".

And the money business isn't exploitation. No! it's "Lafo" - the ancient Samoan custom of exchanging gifts. So there's no need to tell the immigration people you're employing illegal immigrants. Or have them pay taxes, or anything. It's all perfectly understandable when you're sensible.

No matter that the whole business is so thoroughly rancid you could wrap it in greaseproof paper and call it a pound of New Zealand butter sitting, unwelcome, on a European wharf.

What matters is the outcome. And the outcome is that Phil stays in Parliament and everyone's Lafo-ing all the way to the bank.

And when we explain all this, all those other governments will say, "Gosh! Why didn't we think of that?"

And, being the All Blacks of virtue we undoubtedly are, we will simply smile indulgently and say, "Because you're silly!"