THE FISH POLICE
On a Sunday afternoon in August, two days before New Zealand went into lockdown, a crowd of 60 or so gathered in a bowls clubhouse in Mangawhai to listen to some yarns about the glory days of piscatorial policing in the 1970s and 80s.
Poachers were glamorous back then, cinematic characters with pencil-thin moustaches and lots of street smarts, smuggling carloads full of mussels past manned checkpoints to sell to
