'YOU LOOK LIKE A FERRET'
Alan Bell dredges some choice language
from the Commonwealth parliamentary swamp
A ROUTINE Commons gradation — 'dodging', 'admission of guilt', 'cheat' — displayed by Kinnock vs Thatcher in a recent Child Benefit debate may have appalled the editors of Erskine May, but it is nothing compared with some of the language that has to be adjudicated by the Chair in the parliaments of the Common- wealth. The lips of the compilers of A practical treatise on the law, privileges, proceedings and usage of Parliament must have pursed like a governess's when Mr Tony Banks described the opponents of women's ordination as 'reactionary old buggers'; they eased a little when 'reaction- ary old people' was substituted. But such phrases are slight when compared with the rich variety of parliamentary invective on offer elsewhere. It can be discovered in the dignified obscurity of a professional jour- nal. The Table, annual publication of the Society of Clerks-at-the-Table in Com- monwealth Parliaments, lists 'Expressions in Parliament', i.e. those allowed or dis- allowed in debate during the previous year. The last decade shows a considerable increase in the number of citable examples. Perhaps the Clerks quietly egg on their Members so as to clock up a few extra points for some Tonypandy Trophy awarded at their international conventions.
The Table lists 'expressions' with their Hansard reference but- little indication of context. It would, for example, take con- siderable research in New South Wales proceedings to see why it was necessary to rule in favour of allowing 'I have never knocked off 2,000 copies of an Australian National University handbook', or to comb the same Hansard for the background details of the disallowed 'all he is con- cerned about is growing opium poppies and from the look of him sometimes it seems he has tried a few samples'. Even without contextual notes, however, the Table lists have a pace and pungency which show that parliamentary abuse is a living art in many former colonial legislatures.
Many of the contested expressions relate to Members' allegations of dishonesty, immorality, hypocrisy or corruption. All public life is here displayed. There is surprisingly little on their drinking habits, though in 1982 New Zealand reported several allegations. 'Members appear to be extremely well oiled' was exceptionable, 'Members completely plastered' soon fol- lowed and was also ruled out; whether either referred to a particular 'Representa- tive of the drinking classes' (also dis- allowed) is not clear.
Animal similes are to be avoided: rats and ratbags universally, snakes, dingoes, termites and crocodile tears according to territory. 'Bundle of bald-headed coots' has long been banned in New Zealand. Dog references are out of favour, whether the mongrels run, snarl or fawn. 'I thought I asked him to stay in the car and bark at strangers, not to come in here yapping at me' was ruled out in the Australian Senate in 1984.
Imputations of fascism or communism go down badly, though 'the muffled ca- dence of jackboots is alive and well' passed scrutiny in Manitoba in 1982. Comparison with historical notabilities is discouraged, but few examples have the triple-barrelled force of an Indian reference to 'the poiso- nous treachery of Rasputin, diabolical design of Idi Amin and fraudulent prop- aganda of Goebbels'.
India often shows itself offended by phrasing more elaborate than the single- word cat- (or dog-) calling of other parliaments. 'We will give such a shoe- beating to the Members of the Lok Dal that they will become bald' was scarcely to be allowed in the Rajya Sabha as a comment on the other House. But the same body did not allow itself to be criticised by 'there are people who sell membership of the Rajya Sabha for five to six lakhs of rupees'. A fair amount of local knowledge would be needed to assess the full offence given in Gujurat by 'the widow might weep, the married might weep, but the woman having seven husbands also weeps', surely the epigraph for a major regional novel. After a few pages, the listings of 'bank- rupt', 'bastard', 'bootlicker', 'buffoon' and so on begin to seem the common coin of the 'anthill politics' of Animal Farm, where many a 'grinning ape', 'coward', 'flunkey' or 'hoodlum' is kept precariously in check by his Speaker's moral authority. Few phrases directly attack the Chair — and a good thing too. In Australia there is frequent and pic- turesque criticism of ministers. The accusa- tion that one was `notorious for stuffing his pockets full of cigars in VIP lounges at airports' was disallowed in 1979. But it is the state premiers who are singled out for special comment. 'The greatest political barracuda that this country has seen this century' may or may not be the same man of whom 'his deviant bigotry, his deviant authoritarianism, and his deviant con- tempt' were (inadmissibly) mentioned in 1985. Can it perhaps be the man whose 'unctuous, oozing hypocrisy must be un- rivalled in the history of this nation', who was mentioned in the Australian senate in the same year? Odd — perhaps not so odd — that the state premiers excite such feeling. Mere abuse — 'shut your mouth, you white-haired old mug' (Queensland, 1976) and the like — is much less effective than more studied, almost literary, insult. 'The organ grinder has given his champanzees their instructions and they are jumping to his tune' failed to pass in Wellington a decade ago, and it was a pity to see that the finely-judged 'sleeping like herrings in tomato sauce' was disallowed in Zambia in 1976. It surely detracted from the poetry of the forum that 'stealing the coins off dead people's eyes' was disallowed in New Zealand, and the Yukon Territory assem- bly may have cut short a promising literary career when it ruled against If the minister had Pinocchio's nose, it would be so long that five hundred Yukon ravens could roost on it'. What a pity that so many members confine themselves to single words — 'guttersnipe', 'harpies', 'horseshit' and the like — when a little reflection might secure them a place in the Table's pick of the year. What has on consideration been allowed is in many ways more revealing than the longer lists of banned expressions. When Tasmanian entries are submitted in any quantity, one sees a dexterous use of language (and a lenient adjudication from the Chair) that show Barry McKenzie alive and welcome in the House of Assembly in Hobart. Among the 1983 entries, 'as thick as a bit of four-by-four' and 'little standov- er Gestapo man' showed some promise and much room for improvement. Three years later Tasmania left all competitors standing with a choice grouping that was notably up-to-date with a 'carry-on like a pommy soccer larrikin' properly allowed. The flavour of Tasmanian debate two years ago can best be savoured in an alphabetical selection: 'Big blabbermouth.' Drunken bum.' You look like a ferret.' Ham-fisted clot.' The Hungarian drink waiter.' A moral bankrupt and an intellectual pygmy.' 'Sir, he is like a blowfly at a picnic, isn't he?' What a whining, carping, whingeing speech.' You sewer rat, go back to your sewer.' I would rather be in the sewers of Launceston than in the sewers of Parlia- ment House.' Mr Tasmanian Speaker in his wisdom admitted all these at different times of the year. No doubt he was fortified in his judgment by the thought that such agree- able exchanges were no more than words. He might well have reflected that the Canadian House of Commons had in 1982 allowed to pass a phrase about words: 'Words come out sort of like excrement coming out of a goose.'
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