CASUAL COMMENTS

Evening Star, Issue 20020, 10 November 1928, Page 2

CASUAL COMMENTS

REMARKS THEY WOULD LIKE TO ME [By Leo Fanning.] Long ago 1 was dialling to a Minister of the Crown on a day.which had been full of heaviness and blackness for him. A sensational accident had happened. No' blame for the misfortune could be fairly put upon him or the Government, but, of course, political opponents thought there was something m it for them, and they made all manner of suggestions and insinuations about culpable neglect. “ Do you know what I would like to say to some of them?” remarked the Minister, privately, •* T would like to tell them to go to hell, the deepest parts of hell, the hottest parts—and slay there.” Ho would hare given half his salary—perhaps more—for the fierce joy_ of delivering one wholesouled lurid profane outburst, but amenities, exigencies, and other considerations did not allow him to do anything more satisfactory than publicly calling his critics liars in polite language. * * « « If Cabinet Ministers could only speak their minds to some of the vexatious deputations! How often would a Minister like to he free to speak like this: 11 Well, gentlemen, 1 will not protend that I have been pleased to hear what you call your representations, which seem to me to ho most utter rot. You have taken more than an hour to dodder tediously all around the subject —more than au hour to say unclearly what a child could have said clearly in two minutes. You have representatives in Parliament, hut you believe apparently that their principal job should he merely to introduce deputations. You have taken the long way, which is also the wrong way, but I am going to take a short way with you. Your request is preposterous; worse—it is blatantly absurd. It will not receive careful consideration; it will get no kind of consideration. Good-bye, gentlemen. I do not thank you for calling.” * » # # Electors are at liberty—particularly at public meetings—to say what they like to candidates, but the wooers have to be wary. Many a candidate, suave and bland on the surface, hut i adding and seething underneath, would like to talk to his audience thus: “ I sec helore me a sort of zoo—a good few’ lahbits (some wild, others tame), numerous goats, plenty of sheep, and some asses. Much against my better judgment, common sense, and self-respect, I have to play the part of an ass myself to please you. 1 have to pretend that I’ll be able to put quarts into pint pots, square the circle, circle the square, raise magic money plants, and often make nothing look like something pretty good. Your unwillingness or inability to learn _or understand simple principles of political economy compels mo to. humbug you with a hotchpotch of something for nothing.” * * « * What would not some-irrepressible, persistent writers of unsolicited letters to ncivspapers like to say to editors who fail to appreciate the importance of their stuff? The editor who secs not eye to eye with all enthusiastic guides, philosophers, and friends of the public is a hard man to elude or delude. He has an extinguisher in one hand and an acid bottle in rim other—and his is the final touch, one way or another. Trying to win a fight with an editor is like trying to dominate a sausage machine by going into it head first.

Some years ago the readers of one of New Zealand’s city papers used to see frequently these announcements under the heading ‘ Notices to CorrespondentsH.B., received; H. 8., declined; H. 8., not space; H. 8., unintelligible; 11.8.. impossible. After suffering this suppression for some years, H. 8., who had high hopes of making tho world better for everybody, decided to air his opinions at his own expense. Ho published a little book, which had a preface headed with a verso (probably a parody of some lines of Robert Burns):—• Frne a’ tho airts let letters hlaw, Sync none to us are kind; Let truth and justice he suppressed— H. Bodley is declined, » * » # Yet any remarks which the makers of rejected addresses would like to hurl at editors would bo very mild in comparison with the R/rid torrents which editors would like to pour upon some of the correspondents. I have mentioned the acid bottle, but probably an editor’s preference sometimes—if permitted by Parliament—would bo a bubbling cauldron of tar. I know a' few clergymen who would liko to open fire in the pulpit some ■Sunday thus: “My dear_ brethren, I do love you, although it is bard; but sometimes I would like to cal! you my undear blockheads. If I felt that you would take seriously one of the oldtime sermons on eternal bell-fire, believe me I w'ould well and truly roast you to-day, and I would like to give some of you a taste of it in advance. For example, the donors of threepennybits (except those which would be widows’ mites) would lie compelled to swallow them red hot.” * * * * The doctor who feels that it may be advisable to humour a faddy wealthy patient must find it very difficnlt_sometimes to cork up his real opinions. Tf he released the imprisoned words they might be like these; “You are too'fat, you are too lazy; yon cat too much, yon drink too much, and don't think half enough. Yoi don’t need nills so much as pulls—pulls of the hair, pulls of the ears, pulls of the nose. I have to pull your log; but T would much prefer to pull uu our of bed and out of doors, give yon a few kicks and a few' punches, and compel yon to scratch for a living < n ash heaps of'life for a few w.-nr 1- mi would be better in body and muni a .ter a large dose of the simple life.” * * • * Tho person known as “the m u in the street ” would like to say souui.hmg to Dean Inge, who is not so dir- y or dirgey at heart as be professes to in print. “Dear Dean,” the man would say, “take a roM. ro s, on tho sunnv sands by Brighton’s sparkling sea. Dig a few of your ■parishioners’ gardens, demolish a lew plates of oysters and several bottles of stout, and the world will take on a brighter hue.” « * * » Think of the remarks which the punter would like to make to the dear friend who put his “ fancy ” to flight—the only time ho had sorted out a winner for months—“and it paid seventeen quid, too.” He had been sticking to that horse, and “lost pots” on him, but knew the owner, trainer, „and jockey would be going for the goods that day. “A flutter with a fiver for me.” runs part of the long story which he tells to any listener for weeks after the disappointment. , “ I knew I was going to get some of my own back, but 1 ran into that mug, just when 1 urns beading for the tote, and ho put me off my fancy and on to a ** stoomer,” and him.” * # » * What would some of the victims of civic receptions, or guests of honour at banquets, like to say? Here is a reading of their thoughts; “Dear mauds, your intentions have been very good, very heart-warming, but your execution has been terrible. My bones feel as if they had been riddled with borer. It seems more than a mouth, since your

speeches began. I know you have done your best to welcome mo, but you make mo feel that you have done your worst. There is only one kind of speech that 1 like on thes° occasions—and that is the short one.- ft can’t be too short.”