Better get a lawyer, son.

Quite a few footy seasons ago, there was a bloke getting about the place called Aleister Crowley. Quite a talented chap was Aleister, chess master, mountaineer and poet. Despite this, he was known as 'The World's Wickedest Man', and it wasn't even because his RX7 had an extended port 13B in it with twin Garrett T04's set at 24lbs of boost and would pull low 9's as well as having a set of fully sick 22's, a 24" subby and a leopard skin gear knob.

Nup.

Some Edwardian proto-papparrazzi had decided that just because Al liked to do things like Black Magick(sic), including one famous occasion when he summoned the Devil, take drugs and have wild orgies (apparently) within the confines of his cult, then he can't have been our sort of chap at all, old bean. See what happens when you don't invite the meeja?

Be that as it may, a few years after the turn of the last century, Al found himself wandering around a museum in Cairo. He piced up A Thing, which was exhibit number 666 (spooky, huh. Are you scared yet?) When he picked up The Thing (can't remember what it was) Al felt a powerful being enter his body. Now if this happened to me, I'd either blow my rape whistle or demand payment, but Al was a bit kinky that way, so he took the being home with him - not sure if he took The Thing as well.

Shortly thereafter, the being began dictating to Al and Al began writing a book using the automatic writing technique made famous in New England society at around the same time. The book was called The Book of Thoth, probably. Apparently the being which entered Al's body was the Secretary of an Egyptian god called Horus. Horus was a fairly busy god, but he always made sure that "My people will be in touch." Horus was the son of a couple of other Egyptian gods, who may or may not have been Isis and Osiris.

According to Horus's setcherterry (Non-Australians won't get that.) we are now in the third age of the Earth, known as The Age Of Horus. Mum and Dad have had their turn and now they've handed the business over to Junior. Junor, being Junior, is a somewhat impetuous and wilful individual and this is why the world has seen so much conflict and ..., ummm, something else that's like conflict but not exactly the same.

Anyhoo, the key sentence in the book, the sentence that any self-respecting Goth knows* is as follows:

Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law.

This sentence both passes and fails the Dirk Thruster Reasonable Law Test. Passes, because it is brief, written in easily understood language with no room for contradiction, no legalese, no clauses, bub-clauses, riders or qualifiers.

Fails, because it is open to debate and interpretation. For about a hundred years now there have been people saying that this phrase is there to justify licentiousness and lawlessness, while others have been saying that the phrase is there to make people mature into accepting responsibility for their actions, with a third group preferring to have a foot in each camp. I don't have an opinion, although it'd be pretty cool to have divine endorsement of licentiousness.

The DTRLT can be described thusly:

Any law which requires a lawyer to understand/interpret/administer it is a bad law. The Northern Territory vehicle ownership laws are an example of regulations which pass the DTRLT. It states in plain English that having a vehicle registerted in your name is not proof of ownership. Try telling that to a certain finance company.

A bloke I worked for had a car yard, all the vehicles in the yard were registered in his name. He kept a few blank, signed registration transfer forms for occasions when a car was sold and he wasn't there. His son, who is an arsehole, pinched one of the transfer forms and used it to transfer the registration of his Dad's personal car into his own name, used the car as collateral on a loan, then defaulted on the loan. When Dad found out that the kid had transferred the rego, he just transferred it back into his own name.

It became interesting whem the finance company started sending threatening letters. Realising what had happened and being conversant with the law, Dad got me to handle it instead of hiring a lawyer. The process went something like this:

Threatening letter from finance companies Adelaide based law firm.

Hand written note from me (usually on scrap paper)

More threatening letter from law firm.

Request from me to law firm for help with my footy tips

Really threatening letter from law firm.

Photocopy of relevant section of legislation sent to law firm.

Brief respite.

Threatening letter from finance companies Darwin based law firm.

Hand written note from me asking about the principals pool table - has it been repaired yet? Plus a query as to their of opinion on northern Territory conflict-of-interest legislation.

Brief respite. Darwin based law firm had represented my boss on some planning issues.

Threatening letter from another Darwin based law firm, a partner in which went on to become federal president of the Liberal party.

Hand written note.

More threatening letter.

Another hand written note, which included an Irish joke.

Repeat several times, followed by;

A process server, who tried (stupidly) to repossess the car. He may or may not have got a smack in the mouth for his trouble. Cops were called, nobody saw nuthin'. Cops went away. Process server went away. Nothing more was heard on the matter.

We win.

Yay us!

*I don't actually know any Goths. Seems to me that you become a Goth because you don't have any self-respect and are trying to gain some vicariously by building a different persona for yourself.