A fool and his money

Do we really need finger -bowls?

Bernard Hollowood

Nothing could be more British than the series of letters appearing in the Times under the heading 'Is There a Crisis?' I am reminded of Pont's Punch drawing entitled 'Love of Keeping Calm' which shows passengers, British, dining serenely in a sinking ocean liner with the sea lapping their waists.

Are we quite mad? Or is it true, as many people obviously think, that somehow or other we shall once again muddle through without a revolution?

My own view is that the revolution has already started. Take the Aston Martin case. The Government has been heavily criticised by all parties for refusing to nationalise this company, for refusing to use the taxpayees money to subsidise a luxury commodity reserved exclusively for the most affluent. One worker made redundant by the liquidation of the company said that he would never work for Vauxhall Motors where cars "are simply thrown together": if he is representative. the British worker has a lot to learn, for one of the first principles of his revolution must be that what men make is more important than what they are paid.

Let me explain. In a world economy managed by revolutionary workers nothing would be produced unless it could be bought by the average employee. There would be a complete ban on the manufacture of luxury goods because the planners would insist that labour, skills, plant, machinery and power should be used exclusively to satisfy the needs and wants of the ordinary worker. In one mood I personally regret the existence of Rolls-Royce (Motors), of posh hotels, of posh anything, for I know that I can never hope to enjoy the services they offer. My grouse does not, surprisingly, arise from envy: it springs rather from a conviction that the men and materials at present producing these luxury services could be employed on my behalf. For exam

pie, as Aston Martin folds I shall hope to see its workers re-employed by Ford, British Leyland or Vauxhall and in time I shall expect a better small car as a result of their new labours.

We (all right, we workers) should see ourselves as so many Robinson Crusoes, working diligently to feed, clothe, house and educate our selves. Our plight at present is that of a Crusoe who has also to provide luxury goods for someone already in residence on the island, someone who claims ownership and demands preferential treatment.

The theory is, of course, full of holes. My workers' revolutionary council would have the dickens of a job defining luxury goods and services. It might investigate The Spectator and discover that its readership is almost exclusively Keith Joseph in character and Top People in terms of take-home pay; and the following discussion might take place ...

Arthur Scarface (Union of Hairnet Workers): "I say The Spectator

should be wound up and its journalists transferred to the Sun and the Daily Mirror. What use are they to us in Gower Street, waffling on

about fringe politics and books none of us would ever read? And the same goes for all other long

haired weeklies, the New Statesman, the Economist and of course the Financial Gazette. Let us remember Shaw's dictum: it matters less what a man is paid for doing a particular job than what that job is."

Sid Carton (Union of Felt Spongers): "Steady on, Arthur.

Let's be consistent. The Spectator

can't possibly be termed a luxury commodity; it costs a mere 15p

which is equivalent to about seven cigs or a fifth of a gallon of '3 star'. I don't read the paper myself, but it's anti-Heath and that's not to be sneezed at. Our definition of a luxury item must be, as stated in rule five, 'an article or service that is beyond the financial range of the average worker.' And I repeat that The Spectator costs a mere Arthur Scarface: "Then the rule needs amending. We may be able to afford The Spectator, just as we could pay for finger-bowls, but they're still luxuries. Fripperies, in fact. Are you arguing that we can afford to waste labour on the production of linger-bowls? Re

member that workers toiling away at finger-bowls could be making such essentials as beer mugs."

Ted Glower (National Union of Glassworkers): "I'm not defending finger-bowls, brothers, but I would point out that they're not quite as la-di-da or plus-fours-and-no breakfast as Arthur seems to think.

Why, they're standard equipment in hospital operating theatres as sterilising equipment. Some of my members in the Stourbridge region would be very upset if we accused them of manufacturing luxuries."

The Chairman, Joe Blimey (NUM): "Aren't we straying from the subject? I thought we were discussing The Spectator. Personally, I've never heard of the paper, but if it costs only 15p I don't see how it can be defined as a luxury. All in favour of continuing its licence please show. Thank you, brothers — almost unanimous. Now let's move on to item 3,227, the thirty-two-inch Multikrome TV set, selling at £535 including VAT. Any comments?"

Perce Raglan (Union of Splayfettlers): "An obvious luxury. To see the picture properly you have to sit at least twenty yards away from a thirty-two-inch model, which means you have to live in a bloody palace or stately home. In the average council house living-room all you'd see would be the bloody dots and dashes; you know, the lines that make up the picture. So I say the Multikrome is bought only by A, B and AB types and should therefore be prohibited."

Sid Carton: "Agreed. The workers making these huge sets would be better employed on the production of fifteen-inch and eighteen-inch models. I've got a Blandovision fifteen-inch and it's big enough for anybody." Joe Blimey: "By the way, which company makes Multikrome?" Stan Sugdon (Union of Electronics Workers): "Sumi Tomi of Osaka."

Joe Blimey: "Then there's no problem. We can't have the bloody Japs exporting luxuries to us. Let's

put the Multikrome thirty-twoinch on the Prohibited Imports List.

Agreed? Thank you. Before we adjourn for lunch, comrades, there's one more problem I'd like settled. As you know we've closed down all luxury hotels as a matter of principle. That means the Connaught, Ritz, Waldorf, Claridge's, Dorchester and Savoy, and good riddance! But the NUM want you to reconsider the case of the Queen's in Leeds. It's the headquarters of people like Eddie Waring and Fred Trueman and the miners hold a lot of their meetings there. In other words the NUM wants the Queen's reprieved. What d'you think?"

Fred Woodwedge (National Association of Pottery Employers): "Bloody cheek! Why can't the miners meet as we do at the Co-op caff?"

Stan Sugdon: "Aren't the miners getting rather too big for their boots? I know they're getting £275 a week basic and can afford the' Queen's fancy prices, but if the Castleford Boarding House is good. enough for Stoke City, Arsenal and Chelsea it should be good enough for the miners."

Joe Blimey: "Very well, if that's the feeling of the meeting...."

All I'm saying is that this revolution we've started (all parties demanding nationalisation!) isn't going to be easy. I suspect that quite a few of our workers are still' as hopelessly ignorant of economics as that Aston Martin chap who'd rather make cars costing E11,250 for tycoons than neat little Minis for the sons of toil. But I'm not sure that revolution is the right , word for a change that looks as though it will take at least five hundred years to get going.