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NZ Truth, Issue 158, 27 June 1908, Page 5

Victoria is ahead of Us m everything. In a Melbourne suburb recently, the barmaid employed at a 'small hotel became suddenly ill, and the local doctor, was .instantly summoned./ He attended her. but a few days after'; received a fecorid summons, this time by a noliceman. and ihe mpiiisy' w;>.s actually nrosecv^d lot bfiinr on. Ttjc iin;'oisi's ••U'-'iitr on jwWe^ i hours. TllPlte^- v.'ii:-, .!i. '.■•; :,.jf! i.ut the confectionery isWikcn l>v !-iintll)our»B.

Tommy, otherwise "Tufauny" Bent, the Victorian State Preurierj was properly likened to a political mad bull, stung by Press Matadores, when quite recently he launched out m a tirade, of vitrolic, vile and lying abuse of the anti-Bent press of Victoria, that very properly, ai>d with dignity, have been assailing this clownish politician for his brazen-faced bluff and impudent and insolent behavior on the political . platform. Bent is hoggish m appearance, his language always is vulgar and coarse, and he is a political affliction whom th'e Victorian, people have long been utterly disgusted with. Bent is, and always has been, a jobber, and his political death warrant has been practically signed. Hence, m a recent address, he gave a dying kick which is published below, excerpts from which h,ave already, jjeen published m the daily press of Wellington, which, for . reasons needless to relate, have retraced from indicating the fact that one of Bent's "victims" was Mr John | Norton, proprietor of "Truth," who Is absent ia England, and therefore precluded from personally dealing with .Bent as Bent richly deserves to be dealt with. Suffice it, however, to remark that Melbourne "Truth 7 ; has and is playing a prominent part ir the pricking of the Bent bladder. Tom Bent, or "Tummy," has been mixed up m many malodorous matters m his life. His moral character has been impugned and "Tummy's" response, instead of taking legitimate proceedings to clear his character, is a threat of suppressing "Truth." However, m the ab- ; sence m England of Mr John Norton, ! Melbourne '"Truth" has promised to deal I with Mr Bent, and, furthermore, Melbourne "Truth" can be relied upon to give "Tummy" the sort of justice such a coward and craven cur as Bent is entiwou to, N.Z. "Truth" will next issue reprint Melbourne "Truth's" reply to the Mad Bull, and we have little fear that the unsavory Thomas Bent will be properly bent. The following is Melbourne "Truth's" account of Tommy Bent's outburst :— The Victorian political buffoon, Bombastes Furioso Bent, ,was m great „form at Cheltenham on Thursday. He was billed to give a second edition of his presessiona, address, and to reply to certain criticisms to which he and ms administration had been subjected. The platform was decorated with a large varicolored map of the Mallee, and Tommy Was provided with a long pointer whereby all the milfions of acres of good.Uand which are to be opened. up m the sweet by and bye we r e to be denned for the audience's edification. He stood by a small table, ujion which was placed the proverbial water bottle and glass. Tom is I not as young as he used to be, and his voice varies between a basso profundo and " ■ , THE PIPING CHILDISH TREBLE wh^ch the immortal bard declares to he the inevitable sign of the seventh and last stage of man. It requires a lot of irrigation to keep] the old chap's vocal apparatus m going order, and he emptied .the bottle before lie had concluded. The chair was occupied by the President of the Moorabbin Shire, and on ,the platform were Cameron, Mackey, and Mackinnon, Ministerial partakers of Tom's political sins ot OMISSION AND COMMISSION, . while m the audience ancient pals like Doctor L. L. and Davey Gaunson were to be seen. The bulk of the attendance was made up of market gardeners and local, tradespeople. /When the comedian of the evening came before the footlights there was applause. He was armed with a sheaf of foolscap sheets * containing a mass of typewritten matter, which had been supplied by departmental officers and collated and edited by an amanuensis. The Premier political clown had evidently had insufficient rehearsal, and appeared surprised, at some of the phraseology. When he came to the words, "the merest tyro, m finance," he paused and chuckled. He tossed his spectacles on his farehead and came forward confidentially. "Tyro," be exclaimed, "that's a good word.' Do any of you know what it means 'i I do. 'Cause why ? I CONSULTED A DICTIONARY before I came to this meeting."- This sally created loud laughter, and the buffoon then proceeded to read collections of figures which may be made to prove anything. Although figures can't lie, liars can figure, and Tom is a champion reciter of political make-believe. When he arrived at the phrase— "Blasting Victorian prospects," he pulled up again. "Blasting," he said, "yes, B-L-A-S-T-l-N-G— THAT'S SWEARING. Never mind, it is another good wordi!" After dealing with "charges of extravagance" m this second-hand manuscript and nondescript style, Clown Tom, got on to the "Age." He threw down his typewritten bundle, and launched out m the good old Billingsgate he had learned m the early days of Regentv.il le and Penrith. When Tom adopts the vernacular he is more at home, and when he rounded on the. deceased Syme's progeny he was m great .form. The voice reached a hoarse roar at intervals, then broke into a falsetto, terminating m a squeak like that emitted by, a DOLL WITH A SPRING : m its chest. "'This rag," "this thing," "this prostitute," were a few ,ot the elegancies which were levelled at r the '"Age." "Syme killed Speight," squeaked' Tom, "and he died a beggar m Westralia/' "They tried to kill Trenwith," he continued m a hoarse yell, "but he proved too much for them." He then went on to say Synie had sent for him (Tommy) to give him "directions as to the policy of the country." "Others were had like that," cried the Premier Clown, "but ( 1, wasn't taking any. In 1883, when I was Minister of Railway. 1 ;, I found the, guards were being utilised as distributing newspaper agents, and I stopped it. I found that reporters were trotting about the country without paying their fares, and I STOPPED IT." He wan-fed to make his audience believe such claptrap, but no one took him seriously. Then he remembered the grave of the "White Knight"— old Fitz.— and work-, ed up the corpse of Sir John Mclntyre. These relics of the past he presented to his auditors as martyrs to a scurrilous press. The great and final scene was depicted at SYME'S -DEATH-BED. Tommy said he had instituted a prosecution against the "Age and the "Argjus" for printing betting odds m. contravention of the Gaming Act. The dying David wanted the prosecution withdrawn, but Tom went on the lofty principle that justice must he done even thougn the heavens fall. Then the sick Syrne arose on ■hie death-bed and shrieked out a last, injunction to liis 'start-— "H'RITW HIM OUT OF OKKICE 1 find public life!" cried ttie dying jour-

nalist. "Write him out ! Write him out!!;" After getting tliis pathetic fairy tale off his expansive chest. Tommy started some disgusting mouthings. He stirred up vile dirt, hut not all of the filth that was deposited m his nauseous mind. He reserved an outpouring of his eyilsmelling ditch-water for "Truth," which jourral he attempted to pillory later on. In the meantime he gave the "Age 1 ' a taste. "They ARE JOUttNALISTIC PROSTITUTES," he yelled ;. "that is \vhat they are." Following this outburst, which tickled the risibilities , of the audience muchly, he continued with a filthy and suggestive sroile.rt You have seen that cartoon of the | 'Age, 1 " he went on^ "The rag is depicted as an old woman— a Sairy liamp granny. Well, you might think she is too okl for prostitution, hut she isn't. She is still qarrying on her trade. She is a political bawd f" The audience seemed to reckon things were getting decidedly hot, and several Methody-looking individuals j got up and walked out. TOM TOOK THE HINT and chucked it, for the nonce, hut he had fc copy of "Truth" on his table, which he was reserving for a second abusive chapter. In the meantime he returned to his amanuensis' manuscript, but after so much bluster his vocal chords were exhausted. They squeaked like an unoiled axle, and the aqua pura bottle required replenishing. The finances, the State's expenditure, the interest savings, the municipal endowment, and other matters were droned forth from the departmental typed sheets, with occasional extempore interpolations of the buffoonry variety m. order to keep ( things alive. Then the second chap. ter opened. "When Mqule beat me at Brighton," cried the political obscene jester, "it was said -that • I WAS KEEPING A WOMAN with seven children .' Ha ! Ha ! Seven children .! It was Said I took a man named McMahon off the road work to sign papers to get rid of shares ! Ha ! Ha J When the election was over the woman couldn't be found, and the other thing was proved to be a lie ! Ha* ! Ha !,L .HaT !"!" »This was the prelude. He never touched on. his love-makings and the marriageable lady whose letters were published m "Truth," but he advanced towards the audience bearing a copy of that journal m his hand. "There is a paper circulating ip this city - .< ' I AM GOING TO PROSECUTE," he yelled, at the same time throwing "Truth" on the table. "All sorts of infamous statements are made about me. There is a paper, I say, circulating m this city, which is owned by a most unmitigated blackguard. Yes, a paper owned by a dirty, drunken 'JtieJ-ct. "a, loutmouthed, filth-producing, \oi omous liar, a low-down blackmailia.j brute ! ' Having got this stinking stab off his bosom -Bent paused to > take breath . and slake his throat, which had become parched from the lurid flow. Reinvigorated, he A renewed the charge, "When I was Spea^,-^' he went on, "THIS BLA ';-^[NG BRUTE came to me, an v^" what he had written. 'Here &?<#Kat I have got ready for you,' said the dirty blackguard. But I resented his overtures. I told him what he had written was totally untrue. 1 would noi^ be blackmailed. ' The lying wretch said that when I was Speaker ■ ,-. " I WAS DRUNK every night, when, as you know, I was n#^er drunk m my life. lam the . most abstemious ofmeD. Yet the horrible creature published his lies about me." No one seemed to take Bent seriously* They, nevertheless, .^enjoyed his coarse methods of slangwhangihg, and encoiuraged him to keep going. He lurched, forward and seized the copy of "Truth" from the. table, and then . dashed it down again. . "Why should the people of this country" he screamed, "have filth, potured into them week after week by this filthy brute l\ He was ONCE CHARGED WltfH MURDER, and only escaped his just deserts— but that's enough about him. 1^ will be even with him ! I will suppress' his filthy publication. I won't 'allow such filth to be poured among the people. THE DIRTY, VENOMOUS, LYIxNG, i BLACKMAILING BRUTE ! I have now given' you' the 'Age' and the 'Truth.' There is a small rag that has been sharking at me, but it is dead. I will pass it over, but the blackmailer I shall prosecute. Why should he be allowed to traduce and blackguard people ? Why should any dirty individual who comes along with a printing press as his > stock-in-trade be permitted to . . PRINT FOUL LIES about reputable people. The Government intends to take ' measures to suppress the blackmailers." . . . . . Bent's volcano was evidently exhausted. The hoarse yell which heralded its approach died away to a thin tin-whistle at its finish, and after another tug at the bottle he got back tb his staid and prosy MS. He got on to his big varicolored map of the mallet; and dodged around with his pointer, picking out acres ol rich fertile land, which were to settle thousands of people and BLOOM LIKE THE ROSE —when they got roads, railways and water. Then, after tickling the cupidity ot ftis market gardening friends with promises of additional market sites and cool stores, he confessed himself "done up"*' for the night. "I could tell you a lot more," he said; "but I haven't got time. Let's see;" he added, consulting the MS. roll again. "Ah ! YES, HERB 'IT IS-THE MAUBI" This was the signal for uproarious laughter. I have dealt 'Arith the blackmailers, Wit it was said, long ago . that 1 lost the Mace," he proceeded, getting into form igain. "It was Bent who lost the Mace," was what the liars said, 'and Bent knows where it can be found." I wasn't m oflice. Sir Matthbw Davies was the Speaker when the. Mace was stolen. But still, they said, 'Bent lost the Mace— found m Lonsdalc-s trect— Bent knows how it got there.' That was not true. Sir Matthew Davies did not take it there, but 1 nave a SHREWD IDEA WHO DID. The fellow who got it thought he was tiaviug gold, but it was only plated silver." This spicy rehearsal of an ancient scandal served as a livening up finish, and after a stereotyped vote ol thanks to record, the curtain went down on' the nauseating clownish performance, and the premier political buffoon drove oil to Brighton m the Government mutor-car.