Brian Rogers Rogers Rabbits www.sunlive.co.nz

A law passed in parliament this week means your lives will change forever.

The age of innocence is over; the hope of a simple life in New Zealand plucked from our grasp with the passing of a bill that some say will intrude on our privacy, destroy our rights to presumption of innocent till proven guilty, and have us looking over our shoulders in nervous apprehension for the rest of our days.
Here at RR we have undertaken an exhaustive study of the new GCSB bill, and have boiled it down to this…five main ways the bill will majorly impact your life:

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There. Clip it out and keep for future reference. Maybe put it under a magnet on the fridge next to the shopping list, the torn envelope with the vet's phone number and the photo of Aunt Cybil at the wedding before she had her teeth done.
If you think that is dramatic, our research has also disclosed five minor ways your life will change because of this law:
1. Those of you with the name Gregory Cornelius Scott-Bottomley will struggle with self-esteem issues and possibly some playground aggression and teasing, because your initials have suddenly become a public football.
2. Campbell Live will now have to bombard you, if you're silly enough to watch it, with some other ill-informed, misunderstood scare-mongering and one-sided claptrap that smells of leftist commie conspiracy theorist nonsense.
3. The opposition parties, should they get into Government anytime soon, will waste vast wads of taxpayer cash, messing around with the law all over again.
4. Those plotting security threats to the country may find some of your communications may be rudely monitored, you poor wee persecuted things.
5. Finally we might be able to focus on the things that really matter to most NZers: the snapper quota debate.
The only way to combat this intrusion into your life, if you happen to be one of those plotting treason against the nation in the privacy of your own home, is to adopt some counter measures.
Because you never know when the highly resourced NZ Government will be listening in. The RR team discovered this listening device, we'll call it a bug, concealed in our spy bunker this week:
Bear in mind, the resources of the SIS consist of a briefcase* with a titty magazine and three Maketu pies.
Or perhaps that's a bit harsh on the excellent Maketu pies. Maybe they were just Big Ben. Regardless, the discovery of a spy's briefcase inadvertently lost in the eighties sums up the ineptitude and lack of resources of our security agencies. To think they have the resources to listen in, hack the communications, of a wide range of ordinary New Zealanders – or that they'd want to, is laughable.
Remember the greatest ever threat to NZ security is not you – the little old reader minding your own business and the worst you've ever done is probably park in Spring Street for five minutes without buying a parking ticket. No, the worst threat to our country was the filthy French spies who snuck in with their Zodiac and bombed the bejesus out of the Rainbow Warrior, right under our noses. Our spies had no idea, and not only didn't detect the plot, but couldn't catch le basteurds.

Ruthless spy nation?
Worse, our inept government of the time allowed them, even after conviction, to be let go and treated as heroes back in France.
Now I ask you, is this the track record of a ruthless, powerful spy nation? More like the John Keystone Cops.
But, hey, just in case you believe the hype of the panic merchants, here's a way to fly under the GCSB radar:
You will need to develop a code system so you can hatch plots without the GCSB and spies knowing what you are planning.
Those with phobias about the Americans eavesdropping will be most affected by this.
Just ask Team Emirates NZ about the spying from the American camp. They've had to adopt code words for some of their sailing manoeuvres so the dastardly Americans can't understand the team tactics.
Just this week, yachting commentator Peter Lester revealed the sailing team have a range of phrases which denotes a certain action aboard the boat.
'Frosty Boy” is the code word for a type of turn around a mark. But please keep that to yourself, we mustn't let the Americans learn it.
'Meat and Potatoes” which Dean Barker was heard to announce, according to Lester, is a code phrase for a special tactical manoeuvre aboard the Emirates boat which is so top secret, he could only share it with a few trustworthy people – such as the several million television viewers across the world.
Other than that, it remains a top secret instruction between you and I, and the Emirates TNZ camp.
Or maybe, it was Dean Barker letting the catering team know his preference for dinner that night.

You dastardly terrorists
Another code word the RR research team picked during a recent race:
'There's a puff coming”. This translates to: 'Rob Waddle, get your togs on.”
'Holy S****!!” is a code phrase for 'the bows of our boat are doing 40 knots, 10 feet under the water and Rob Waddle has taken up swimming.”
You at home in Spy Victim Land can lessen the impact of the GCSB laws, by developing your own code. You can then go subversively about your life, planning all sorts of dastardly, terrorist acts against the Government, its enforcement agencies, and generally be a happy little security threat all of your own.
Here are some ideas for your special code, but don't tell anyone, or it won't be secret any more. Some of these are adapted from episodes of Get Smart:
Class A security = Super-secret case rating that means it can only be discussed under the Cone of Silence.
Code 16 = Invasion from outer space.
A wet duck flies at midnight = Mallard is heading home from Bellamys in the rain.
The eagle has landed = There is a large bird of prey sitting on my lawn.
The gnashers are smashers = Aunt Cybil's new teeth are working in exemplary fashion, thanks for asking.

*An SIS operative inadvertently in 1981, left a briefcase containing a copy of Penthouse, three cold meat pies and notes of a dinner party hosted by a German diplomat, on a fence in Wellington, where it was found by
the son of a journalist.