by Deborah Coddington

John Key says nobody owns the water. One hundred and sixteen years ago Richard Seddon told Ngati Kahungungu despite gifting Wairarapa lakes to the Crown, they still owned the water and the fish. Two prime ministers, which one is right?

Do property rights fade like fabric in the sun?

Or do they remain as strong as a man's word?

We already know there are 100,000 New Zealand voters willing to put a party into Parliament which upholds the principles of small government, choice, individual freedom and responsibility. Now that 'Brand Act' is well and truly stuffed, there's talk the Libertarianz Party might fill the vacuum.

Last week a journalist phoned and told me the Libertarianz Party conference this coming weekend is called Towards a True Liberal Bloc in Government and I collapsed with mirth. Then made a cryptic remark about their being lucky to find a cupboard in which to hold their conference.

The incomparable, incredible heaviness of grief and how it's just not fair

Those who make us laugh have a gift. I don't mean just the talent for conquering their nerves and walking out on stage at some comedy festival to crack jokes and draw a polite - or genuine - ha ha from the audience.

Parliament is supposed to be just that, the House of Representatives, its members a proxy for each and every one of us, warts and all. So sometimes we have to tolerate debates about subjects we might think are frivolous

The late Sir Robert Muldoon, I'm told, never forgot this. When he was often criticised about the calibre, or lack of it, of some of his caucus, he explained that he didn't wish to fill his benches with cabinet minister material. "Some members are content to be just that, and so they should be," he explained. "It doesn't pay to have all your MPs ambitious to take on portfolios.

Should Gisborne ban the wearing of pyjamas in public because, as one councillor said, it lowers the tone? Should we judge people by what they wear?

Whether we like it or not, we judge a person according to their appearance and what they're wearing, in terms of making snap decisions about what their occupation might be, where they might fit in society, or what sort of person they may be in relation to us.

It hasn't been the most scintillating of election campaigns, but is it really necessary to rate the sex appeal of our politicians in an effort to enliven proceedings?

When David Farrar asked the question on Facebook, "Should a journalism school be asking the question of its students, 'what politician would they most like to fuck'," I thought he was kidding. But the link he provided backed up the poser.

Simon Power needs Act's support to pass the Criminal Procedure (Reform and Modernisation) Bill. Will he tell Act to stuff Heather Roy's Voluntary Student Union Bill where the sun doesn't shine, unless they hold their noses, and support grossly illiberal legislation which does away with the right to silence?

When Chris Kahui was acquitted of murdering his twin sons in 2008, law commissioner Sir Geoffrey Palmer mused that perhaps it was about time we did away with the right to silence for those accused of criminal offences.

He was quoted in the New Zealand Herald: "It is not a change that would happen quickly, but talking about it is not [typo edited] wrong."

How quickly the oppressed become the oppressors

"Save the life of my child, cried the desperate mother. Oh what's becoming of the children? People asking each other."

RNZ's Mediawatch, in its own words, "looks critically at the New Zealand media – television, radio, newspapers and magazines as well as the 'new' electronic media." So why doesn't it criticise the train wreck which Morning Report is rapidly becoming?

I don't agree with those who say bring back Sean Plunket. He's found his metier over at Newstalk ZB, thundering away provoking the talkback callers. And I'm not a snob about talkback either. (Disclosure: I'm an irregular, unpaid, panel guest on Plunket's programme).

Following Sue Bradford's latest post, which indicates the Green's latest decision clearly signals they will align themselves with the right, it's difficult to restrain myself from saying 'I told you so'. But that there be dragons

I'm trying to catch a stoat. So far it's taken Bill, my bantam rooster; Mikki, one of his daughters; and Duck-duck, one of his foster daughters whom he frequently shagged. His wife, Pip, hatched the duck egg I put under her, so Duck-duck was one of the family. Incest is unknown in the farmyard, because animals don't possess the power of reason.