As part of my ongoing haste to rush headlong into geriatricity, I’ve joined my local residents’ Facebook page.
Most posts are innocuous enough: attempts to reunite a lost child with their left shoe, or requests for a “reliable local handyman (must be cheap, punctual, and available immediately, emphasis on cheap).” But every now and then, a suitable bandwagon rolls in and you can sit back and watch the irate residents pile on, frothing at the mouth over some perceived civic misdemeanour.
Last week’s keyboard warriors were ignited by reports that “youths” had been imported in from neighbouring suburbs. Karen (possibly not her real name) had filmed a group of youths yelling at each other. For context, the video showed no more than twenty kids and contained no violence whatsoever—but it had clearly distressed Karen enough to film and post, as it ruined the ambience of the chicken-and-chip shop she and they were patroning.
I didn’t fully understand the exchange, as it was conducted entirely in youth lingo, but my 6–7 level of comprehension led me to believe that someone had nicked someone else’s boyfriend–girlfriend.
The Facebook responses ranged from bemoaning the lack of parenting through to calls for deportation. Council and the Police were tagged repeatedly, demanding immediate action to “make our streets safer”—though no one provided specific guidance on what that action should actually be. I think they expected Council to start parenting as a service (perhaps by hiring an entirely new department staffed by Nanny McPhee and Mrs Doubtfire) or maybe expand its remit into cross-border deportation. I sincerely hope it’s not the latter, as my overdue parking fines could see my residency visa revoked.
Either way, everyone was confident it couldn’t possibly have been kids from
our (decidedly average, not-posh) municipality. It
had to be “those outer suburbs” causing trouble.
Council didn’t directly respond to the post. Instead, a day later they subtly uploaded a photo to their socials showing community police and local laws officers patting a llama on the beach near where the incident had occurred.
Beautifully judged messaging. Without formally acknowledging the incident or engaging with the hysteria, they demonstrated responsiveness: ratepayers reassured, order restored. Judge Dredd, but with a softer side. An all-points bulletin for Little Timmy in Year 10, suspected of vaping—delivered gently, alongside livestock.
I didn’t quite understand the llama requirement. Perhaps it was to appear approachable. Perhaps it was a new environmental initiative. Police have bikes—maybe Council is trialing Local Laws officers on llamas. Maybe it was for little Timmy to pat in case he was triggered after being caught, ready to pay his dues for a short but significant lifetime of crime.
Either way, reassured that the roving llama patrol was on duty, I felt safe once more to walk my local streets without fear of loud noises or accidental exposure to acne. With my mind at ease, a few thoughts occurred to me:
- Councils don’t get enough credit for managing services and facilities funded by their own ratepayers but used by a far larger, “imported” audience from surrounding suburbs.
- Council marketing and communications has quietly become very sophisticated. It’s evolved from updating bin-collection days on a website to a delicate dance of informing and educating—without inflaming grievances or providing a platform for chaos.
- Young people should be able to use the same facilities as everyone else. You can’t just build a skatepark and tether all 13–18-year-olds to it until curfew. They should be free to use parks, gardens, pools, and public spaces—just as I should be free to attempt a 720 at the skatepark.
- Council powers are wildly misunderstood. They’re often blamed for not implementing policies such as requiring a recent rates notice and two forms of ID to access public toilets—purely, of course, to keep out “the invaders.”
- Finally, I was at times a loud, irreverent lout in my younger years. Facebook has kindly helped me realise that I’m still capable of being just as annoying as an adult. All I need now is a keyboard.
