Over the past few weeks, I have been able to subjugate my more violent side by immersing myself in the four-yearly rugbyfest, the battle for the Webb Ellis Trophy.

When other kids at school used to threaten me with a policeman father it was good to be able to stand my ground and say Yeah? Well, my dad played for Waikato!” This won’t mean a lot to the gentle readers of The Oxford Times, but it was something to hold on to while the All Blacks were on their way to winning the World Cup.

So what to do now when the Asbos from next door are hurling abuse at each other or Mrs A is droning on into the wee small hours with her window open (don’t people realise how loud they sound in the middle of the night?) There is no world-class rugby match from Down Under to tune in to at 3am and somehow, Radio 3 just doesn’t cut it when you want to scream at someone. Or do worse.

I don’t know if I have ever mentioned to you my quiet fantasy of a political party called Greens with Guns? A surprising number of people say they would be keen to join — people I had always imagined to be more peace-loving than I am. What really surprises them, on the other hand, is that I mention it aloud.

Democracy isn’t a perfect system, but I suppose I have to concede that it’s about as good as it gets. So GWG would probably never come to power and I suppose you couldn’t really put on trial neighbours who keep other people awake at night, but it would be tempting.

It would be good, too, to be able to put on trial those who simply can’t be bothered to separate the recycling from the rubbish.

It does seem a shame that while children are learning — and often teaching their parents — about the dangers of Climate Change the local council has backtracked on its promise to prosecute those who don’t make any effort to help meet the targets.

If you were one of the guys on the conveyor belt separating my nicely rinsed wine bottles from next door’s dirty nappies you’d probably agree with me.

The thing is that like many Kiwis, I am the soul of indiscretion and absolutely hopeless at subterfuge.

So GWG is my harmless fantasy and will doubtless stay that way. Although let’s see how I sleep tonight . . .