GOOD OPENINGS FOR M.P.'s.
The Manchester Guardian complains that there is a remarkable monotony about the opening of speeches in the House of Commons.
"On Wednesday forty-five speeches (not counting brief efforts in the way of interjections) were delivered, and in thirty cases the speeches began with the first person singular. Only fifteen members could think of anything more original." It appears that four speeches began with "I beg," four with "I should like," three with "I wish," and three with "I am sure."
It may be a little daring, perhaps, to suggest that some originality should be introduced into the methods of Parliamentary orators (writes a correspondent); but as one whose courage has never failed him in telling other people how to go about their business I venture to suggest a few openings which possibly have never yet been utilised.
As it is half the battle, to the speaker, to grip interest at the very outset, the following might be tried: "Drip, drip, drip—the blood fell from the ceiling." This would cause departing Members to drop sharply back into their seats. Only a little ingenuity would be required to make these words the opening of a speech on any timely topic. Our aristocratic legislators could make certain of arresting attention by beginning, "In the words of a friend of mine, a well-known Peckham butcher"—another gambit that could be made to suit any subject, from the shipping problem to the Zeppelin nuisance.
Or again, "The missis woke me up in the middle of last Tuesday night, and said"—This is the kind of homely touch that would ensure a sympathetic hearing.
Members might also make a good start with "'Twas" and "Methinks," even at the risk of being accused of the use of unparliamentary expressions.
If they would only study the poets I they would find plenty of bright and original openings. What better could be desired than Browning's
"So, at home, the sick tall yellow Duchess
Was left with the infant in her clutches,"
if occasion should arise in the House for criticism of the heartless action of a Local Tribunal in disallowing a Duke's claim for exemption?
Many a man possesses an undiscovered knack of extempore rhyming, a gift which has seldom or never been exercised in the House of Commons. That will be a bright day for legislators when a Member rises in his place and begins something like this: "Sir, if the House will bear with me one moment, I should like to say that I, for one, cannot agree that we have found the perfect way of dealing with a gross neglect to which all honest men object." Any Member who could keep up that sort of thing for half-an-hour (and some, no doubt, could, if they would only practise) would achieve lasting fame, not only for his originality, but because of the remarkable scenes amid which his concluding lines would almost certainly be uttered.
"The Germans planned to expel the British from South Africa, aided by disinfected Boers."
Englishman (Calcutta),
But, in the end, it was General Botha who cleared out the Germs.
Mabel (after Sunday tea, on departure of officers quartered in the neighbourhood). "I'm glad Captain Devereux didn't come, as I'm not looking my oldest to-day."