Shuffle I am hurt by the suggestion that I do
not appreciate Mr. Wilson's jokes. On the contrary, I am a connoisseur of them. All five of them. What I have said, and will go on saying until the Prime Minister reforms, or hell freezes,
whichever happens first, is that when he is con- fronted by a question to which he does not want to reply, he slips at once into the old routine. He does a sort of soft-shoe shuffle. There is a joke about August 12, or the Spectator, or the Tory leadership, or a homely Yorkshire phrase to distract and cheer the lads behind him. There is a mist of rapid patter and a piece of advice to `look up the debate in Hansard for June x, 1948— Col. 4636,' which is always good for a giggle. But there is no answer. Cries of 'Yes—or No' from the Opposition mean nothing to Mr. Wilson. He does not understand the meaning of either word. And while the pitiful little dance of words goes on one can almost hear Archie Rice's desperate claim—`I 'ave a go, ladies, don't I? Can't say I don't 'ave a go.' No indeed, Archie, one can't.
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