The lightbulb moments come only in the dark

There is a certain point in a war story where the audience becomes blase to the horror.

If I was under surveillance, the agents monitoring my movements might wonder what sort of Morse code I was transmitting from the rapidity of bedroom lights being switched on and off.

Rest easy, agents, decipher no more. I am just having one of my so-called bright ideas sleepless nights where what I imagine is an amazing thought has to be jotted down on a side-table notepad.

If only the surveillance agents would assist in deciphering the scrawl of this nocturnal handwriting when attempts to read it are made in the cold hard light of day.

As you no doubt are probably only too well aware, if said brilliant thought is not immediately written down and instead filed in the unreliable fog of the memory banks, alas, it is seldom recalled.

For instance, the other night, after hearing about a proposed Wellington City Council bylaw to stomp out cigarette butts, I cogitated over this in the night, causing the bedside lamp to be switched on.

City councillors have pushed for a bylaw to send the message that it’s not acceptable to drop butts, as the fag ends fall into the broad definition of litter. There is already an infringement act, which means anyone caught throwing a butt can be fined under the Litter Act.

However, it is hardly ever enforced because council staff with warrants to enforce $100 fines have to witness someone in the act of discarding. And who would want to involve themselves in making what would be interpreted by the offenders as a bumptious citizen’s arrest by non-uniformed staff? It would cause all sorts of argy-bargy and sour footpath encounters.

All deeply unfair on the enforcement officers, so why not, the night brain thought, approach cigarette makers to design boxes to carry the ghastly butts around in? These seal-tight reusable small butt boxes could fit into trouser or breast coat pockets and slip nicely into handbags, and be available over the counter offered free-ofcharge, along with cigarette packets.

I myself would deeply appreciate faggers bringing these boxes to my house so I wouldn’t have to dig butts out of pot plants or, grrrrrr, empty (as I did last night) an overflowing ashtray of waterlogged butts.

That particular, quickly jotteddown, alleged bright night-time idea was vaguely legible on the notepad but my idea of reportage of terrorist/nutter attacks took several goes to decipher. As far as I could make out, the scrawls ‘‘trrsts perps rptge’’ in brutish shorthand were about the dominance of terrorist attacks on news reportage.

Since terrorist attacks and attacks by nutters on innocent civilians have been occurring with sickening regularity, these stories have dominated the ‘‘breaking news’’ for days on end. Watch CNN and the cycle of reportage about the attack is on a never-ending loop. As soon as the smallest new detail about the attacker is revealed, it is added to the soup and run through again and again.

Neighbours are quickly contacted to attest to the wellbehaved and polite demeanour, the apparent normality of the attacker, while panels of experts examine the forensic entrails to give clues to its purpose. The attacks are given prominence over all other news stories as the audience is bombarded with images of terrified and hysterical citizens fleeing the scene. The alltoo-familiar dramatic pregnant pause follows, till a group proudly rears its ugly head, admitting responsibility for the heinous act.

While it would be irresponsible to refrain from reporting attacks of whatever nature committed by whatever hue of the offender upon how ever many innocent standbys, perhaps media organisations should think about relegating these attacks to the end of news items.

Turning down the volume and not giving the story the oxygen its perpetrators so wantonly crave effectively breaks the cycle and could become a game-changer. Like appallingly behaved children throwing tantrums, the way to stop the noise is to walk away and feign interest in something else while quietly keeping an eye on the offending brat.

But what of the victims? You may well ask. Shouldn’t their pain and suffering be reported on? Unfortunately, the familiarity of their side of these stories is already breeding contempt. There is a certain point in a war story where the audience becomes blase to the horror.

You know it would be a different story if it had happened to you, but it hasn’t happened to you and you wish the terrorist/ madman attack theme would shut up because we’re not listening any more. Sadly, perhaps that’s the only way to stop it.