Victims

Boy George and his clan left us with this haunting melody in December 1983 as they described the turmoil inside the band over failed relationships. Another failed relationship recently has been between New Zealand Immigration and a young Fijian chap called Sanil Kumar. This 30 year old was recently deported from New Zealand after our system refused to let him stay due to the cost of his ongoing dialysis. Fiji does not perform  kidney transplants, whilst New Zealand does. Quite understandably Mr Kumar and his family wanted him to stay here as a dialysis patient as he waited on the transplant list. Unfortunately he died this week in a Fiji hospital due to an infection, less than a month after his forced deportation.

I too was similarly refused a residency  permit after 2 years of working in New Zealand, and my work permit application immediately cancelled. Not because of my diabetes, but because of the likelihood of renal failure brought on by the diabetes. The process involved four long frustrating and anxious years of medical tests, medical conjecture, policy debate and expert testimony After a judicial review and the intervention of a senior MP my case was referred back to Immigration and I was given residency. 

Whilst there have been tweaks and minor changes in policy, basically the same rule applies. If you cost the country more than $25,000 in the course of your treatment then your visa application will be declined and you must exit the country or face deportation. Once all appeals have been exhausted, applicants have the right to apply to the Minister of Immigration for a discretionary waiver of policy. In Mr Kumar's case the minister, Nikki Kaye  MP (National, Auckland Central) made the decision that he could not stay in NZ as dialysis is available in Fiji. 

"Immigration decisions involving health conditions were complex and involved consideration of a range of factors.

"That's why I give careful and thorough consideration to a range of factors and often seek additional advice as I did from health agencies in this instance."

However she managed to ignore the advice that Fiji only funds three months of treatment and patients end up dying of infection or complete renal failure.

Whilst rigid structures are in place to ensure that health systems are not abused or subject to unreasonable burden, the Minister is included in the process to intervene with human wisdom, where compassion and oversight might mean the difference between life and death. 

If the minister is going to ignore her humanitarian role in the process, and adhere to policy, then civilised society as a whole is undermined. Today Mr Kumar, tomorrow the new girlfriend or boyfriend of your child, the overseas cousin, grandparent, or friend who wants to move to New Zealand, but develops or is likely to suffer from a potentially expensive condition, defect or disease.. 

 If that is to be the case then we are all victims

Sanil Kumar 1983-2014

Well heeled

I've just been handed today's topic and am rather excited as a result. Obviously the blog authorities have at last heard my plea for suitable workwear and relented at last.

Finally I can take my place amongst the stylish and respectably attired in London's Jermyn Street. I can strut my funky stuff, put my best foot forward, whilst consistently maintaining my brogue vogue. Hailing as I do from Northampton, the home of the British footwear industry (True indeed, the town museum displays a wealth of ancient and not so ancient footwear. Top exhibit award must go to the 1959 Elephants Shoe, made for a re-enactment of Hannibal's Alpine crossing);

I amtherefore thrilled by the prospect  of exquisite hand stitched leather pieces cobbled skilfully together.....

One moment please.....I've just been handed a note from the producers.....

Ah, apparently I was misguided in my sole assumption. It says I am well healed.

Yes, after a long trek along the pathway of recovery, laced with countless dressings, and a few slips on the way, it seems all is well below.
 I am truly well healed.

русские

В Европе и Америке, растет чувство истерики ...

Стинг предупредили в 1985 году, когда в разгар холодной войны, зло Советский Союз выступал против свободы Запад (по крайней мере, это то, что г-н Рейган сказал нам). Как два павлина напыщенный зол и чистить, что делает подлые комментарии и извинился детей непростительно сверхдержавой поставлена.

Слава Богу, закончилась холодная война (Он должен иметь, потому что Джордж Буш-старший сказал так, и мы все верим, что семью).

Тем не менее, тридцать лет спустя, и Россия начала вести себя как по-детски павлина снова. Кроме этого павлина есть жестокое и непредсказуемый характер. Маленький ребенок Путин получает злее и расстроен, как он бросает свои русские куклы из его оборками коляске. В то время как в остальной части Европы и Америки, есть растущее чувство истерии ..... Боже мой, мы были здесь раньше.

Почти. На этот раз, однако, вместо того, чтобы взаимно гарантированного уничтожения ядерных боеголовок с наконечниками, Запад готов ответить со слегка неудобных путешествий санкций, которые будут препятствовать заместитель Питание Supervisor в российском посольстве в Момбасе ....

Все это суета над свободной Котлета по-киевски.

В моем мире, Украина занимает важное место, так как он впервые первые опыты по пересадке почки человека в 1936 году. Операции, проводимые украинский хирург Юрий Voronev, хотя в конечном счете безуспешными, сияли новый свет на то, что стало важным шагом вперед в трансплантации и здравоохранения. Без украинских достижений мы никогда не могли бы быть там, где мы находимся сегодня, с более чем 70 000 трансплантаций почек, проведенных в прошлом году. Из тех примерно 46% от живых доноров.

Так в то время как раздражительный Путин поглощает больше украинскую территорию, это было приятно, свидетелями Россия будучи освистан в обычно дружественной арене Евровидении. Да, это верно, так как санкции не то вывести ежегодный конкурс красоты Евровидения campness чтобы помочь раздражать ох как Бутч российского президента.

Детские? Да, Удовлетворение? Даже более того.

Boooooo!

Russians

In Europe and America, there's a growing feeling of hysteria...

Warned Sting in 1985 when at the height of the Cold War, the evil Soviet Union stood against the freedom loving West (at least that's what Mr Reagan told us).  Like two angry peacocks strutting and preening, making snide childish comments and excusing the inexcusable, the superpowers posed.
Thank goodness the cold war ended (It must have, because George Bush Senior said so, and we all trust that family).

Yet thirty years on, and Russia has started to behave like a childish peacock again. Except this peacock has a violent and unpredictable nature. Little Baby Putin gets angrier and more upset as he throws his Russian dolls out of his frilly pram. Whilst in the rest of Europe and America, there's a growing feeling of hysteria.....Oh dear, we've been here before.

Almost. This time however, instead of mutually assured destruction by nuclear tipped warheads, the West is ready to respond with slightly inconvenient travel sanctions that will hinder the Deputy Catering Supervisor at the Russian embassy in Mombasa....

All this fuss over a free chicken Kiev.

In my world, Ukraine has an important place, as it pioneered the first human kidney transplant experiments in 1936. The operations, conducted by Ukrainian surgeon Yuri Voronev,although ultimately unsuccessful, shone new light on what was to become a major advance in transplantation and healthcare. Without the Ukrainian advances we might never be where we are today, with over 70,000 kidney transplants performed last year. Of those approximately 46% are from live donors.

So whilst the petulant Putin gobbles up more Ukrainian territory, it was rewarding to witness Russia being booed in the normally friendly arena of the Eurovision Song Contest. Yes, that's right, as sanctions fail then bring out the annual pageant of Eurovision campness to help annoy the oh so butch Russian president.

Childish?  Yes, Satisfying? Even more so.

Boooooo!

The glamourous face of Vlad Putin in drag to win next year's Eurovision, with Conchita Wurs's beard.

Welcome to the House of Fun!

You would be forgiven if your mind harked back to the zany year of 1982, when Madness swept the nation and gave us one of the most infectious hits of the decade. But wait, madness also swept Renee and Renato to the Christmas number 1 in the same year...

Oh what fun we had.

Anyway back to my world, where small doses of fun were in hot demand yesterday. Fun bags of Mars and Milky Way  mini sized confections to be precise. The reason? We had been invited to an evening of star gazing high into the clear nights above Arkles Bay, and the theme was celestial.

With my creativity reserves in somewhat of a low ebb, we decided to go festooned with the aforesaid confectionery, representing the red planet, and the galactic swirl that you can eat between meals with out ruining your satellite.

I launched myself like the Mars Avenger to the local shop in search of the treasured fun bags.... and upon entering, scoured the immediate shelves in search of planetary evidence. As I continued to monitor the vast void of space, a grim voice announced itself across the airwaves.

"Are you looking for anything in particular?"
Spinning round I spied a lone form hovering in the corner of the shop, frowning.

Fun bags, I'm looking for fun bags....

It stared and rasped..."Fun bags? What are they?"

A reasonable question I supposed, especially if your only knowledge of the word fun is garnered from the dictionary.

Ummm Bags of "fun" sized Mars bars and Milky Way.....?

I received a frown and a shrug from the life form in the corner. "Why are they called fun?"

A good question, I noted for enquiry later. Since I was not involved in the marketing department of the global confectionery giant, or interested in a semantic debate of the use of the word fun, I merely grimaced awkwardly and shrugged in reply. She grumbled and looked unpleasantly at her stock, like it had been annoying her all day. I expected a sharp retort.

Like the conclusion of Prometheus the ending surprised, and yet was not totally unexpected. 

"Over there" a pale hand showed me to a distant point. I hurriedly grabbed the bags of "fun" and having paid, made a reverse exit.

I wasted no time in voyaging home to start sellotaping mini Mars bars to my hat, reflecting that perhaps Ridley Scott was right. 

In space no-one can hear you scream.