THE COMMON ROUND

Otago Daily Times, Issue 23369, 8 December 1937, Page 2

THE COMMON ROUND

By Wayfarer

Speaking in a House of Commons debate, Mr A. P. Herbert "concluded with a witty poem by way of peroration," which seems something of an idea: Now if I were a physician, And an ailing politician, . (And the way they act, you d think they all were ill), Came to me for diagnosis, I'd say, " Talker's halitosis Is your trouble; I can't cure it with a pill." I'd say, " Brother, stop the shindy; If vou feel a trifle windy " (Not a guess, because they nearly always do), " Cut the cackle, talK in verse, Make your speeches clear and terse; You'll feel better—and the country will be, too. For your feasts of words ecstatic. To a doctor sound erratic (Just as if they came from somewhere up the line); For a politician's prose Is not where my fancy grows, But if you'd keep silent we'd be feeling fine. When you rise in a debate, With words ready for the spate. Hold your peace until you've put them Into rhyme, And if inspiration die? Pray do not monopolise The country's rather valuable time. We must pay for what you say, But what you say does not pay Us a penny towards our swollen income tax; , And if you can't speak in verse Shut your mouth, 'twill be no worse, For it's not debating that New Zealand lacks."

Looking over these impassioned lines, we realise that they may be some of the last we shall be allowed to utter upon the political situation. Mr Savage's dark threat to hunt the newspaper commentators out of their anonymous retreats sounds like the distant clanging of the columnist's death knell. It is bad enough as it is, having to endure the obloquy to which our infrequent political references subject us. Just as an instance, here is a letter which was sent to us by one of the most promin ent politicians in the country only last week, after we had made a complimentary reference to him:

Dere "Waferer,' —Yews a skundrej and i wolde kick the pance off yew if i haddent a sence of the diggnity of my high offis. i ken assure yews that i ken't be " master of rhetoric " like yew say. its a libel becaws I never tort in no rheform skule nor went there and as for calling me a Cicero yew durty kur i am an Australyan and no Eyetalian Wop.

Well, you can realise how doubly embarrassing it would be if these sensitive flowers that bloom on Parliament Hill could name one by name; because we fear the manifestations of their displeasure would not stop there. And soon our anonymity mieht be made permanent with a little grass plot in the graveyard.

Of course, in time no doubt some new Government would be paying off the railways debt by running excursion buses to the " Wayfarer " country, and there would be a statutory holiday on our birthday (foundry workers please note), and wreaths on our grave, and the band playing " Here the Kinkering Hero Konked" or something equally appropriate. But we are of a modest and retiring disposition and would not be in a position to appreciate it in the least. We'd much rather get a column off our chest every week than have one sitting on it for all eternity.

And then, think of that noble legion of light-bringers who write to the Editor. Where would they be, bereft ot their enveloping anonymity, stripped of their portentous pseudonyms? Where would Douglas be if he could not receive some credit from " Veritas "? What interest would we find in the papers if there were no replies to questions ingeniously concocted by " Interested "? What element of pleasant speculation would remain in life if no more enigmatic contributions came from " Wager "? How could we realise the joys of dancing barefoot in the foreshore thistles if we had no further instruction from " Gymnosophist "? And what might be the result if the prodigiously nrolific tendencies of "Mother of Ten" were diverted from the correspondence columns?

There is, however, one condition upon which we would accept the proposal; nay, welcome it gladly. That is on the terms that, fair ex change being no robbery, parliamentarians assumed themselves that cloak of anonymity which they threaten to strip from "Pro Bono Publico " and his ilk. We have already seen that the necessity to speak in verse in the House would expedite proceedings. Imagine how things would be speeded up if honourable members had to speak anonymously They would soon tire of speeches floating disembodied over the air, or innocent of identification marks in the newspapers The name's the thing that makes the politician's rhetoric ring.

In no time at all we would find these column-long reports of debates fading to assimilable size—and to comprehensible terms And soon the business of the House would be completed as promptly and efficiently as that of a board of directors' meet ing. Imagine the saving on the Financial Statement. Excerpt from the press:

The Budget was presented to the House to-day by a Ministerial representative. There were about half a dozen members oresent. owing to the fine weather " Well, you've got copies ol the dope before you." declared the Ministerial representative "Any objections? " An Opposition voice: Plenty. A Government voice: Naturally you have. An Opposition voice: You'll bankrupt the countrj'. A Government voice: Yeah? Opposition voices: Yeah! Ministerial representative; Maybe, huh? Opposition voices: We don't mean maybe. Ministerial representative: Oh. O.K. Let's go. On voices the Budget was declared read a first, second, and third time by a majority of one, and the House adjourned to a cricket match. It is understood that there will be a pro-luncheon sitting on Friday, at which the other important legislation of the session will be adopted, enabling South Island members to recuperate at Bellamy's before matching the ferry steamer. Why, if the Government would only do a deal with the oublic on this anonymity issue, the time would come when M.'sP could get their business in Wellington settled bv telephone in one day of every year, and have leisure to become useful citizens in their communities.

A London message declares that the market for eggs is featureless. But we have been frequently distressed at breakfast time when a boiled egs has given us a really nasty look.

New Zealanders, days a woman visitor, are slow to take up anything. She obviously has never made a round of the saloon bars a few minutes before closing time.

Though we must confess that whatever a New Zealander takes up lie puts down with even greater celerity.

A record is claimed for an American inventor who went down 420 feet in a new type of diving suit. But we cannot helo thinking that the dictator's son who declares that bombing Ethiopians was good fun has descended lower than that.