AFORE YE GO
Leaves from the commonplace book of Wallace Arnold
Being an Open Letter to Paddy Ashdown
My Dear Paddy, You and I go back yonks. Our friendship established itself, as you will recall, in the foothills of the darkest jungles of Borneo. Despite the odd pow-wow over politics (you cannot abide the woman, I worship at her feet) we have always held each other in deep respect, a respect befitting two men who have been through the SBS and have lived to tell the tale.
Of course, the nincompoop 'media' seem to think that it was the Special Boat Squadron to which we both belonged, and I daresay you have not run a mile to put the record straight. To give the pen-pushers their due, the long and distinguished his- tory of the Special Ballet Squadron is inextricably intertwined with the somewhat coarser band of brothers that shares its initials. But let's not turn our back on our days of pas de deux and pirouette, eh, Paddy?
How well I remember the Special Ballet Squadron! We had blundered our way into Borneo for the express purpose of bringing Swan Lake to the boys. Even at that stage of your life, Paddy, you seemed rather more 'manly' (how I hate that word!) than the rest of us, always loudly gritting your teeth when forced to take those feminine roles that so became you. When the rest of the lads began to nickname you Patricia, you stamped those little feet in fury, and to the rest of the world you have been Paddy ever since.
When the Special Ballet Squadron was disbanded, our lives seemed to go their separate ways. I remember in the early Seventies our old sarge, Daphne, telling me that he had seen you playing tunes on wine glasses on that excellent television talent show, Opportunity Knocks, but I daresay nothing came of it. Some said that you had become a women's hairdresser. Imagine one's surprise, then, when last week you reappeared in front of all our eyes as the new Leader of the Liberal Party!
May I offer some advice, Paddy? Ever since we both signed on for that excellent Army Charisma Course, you have been able to smile and wave with the best of 'em, so no worries on that score. You speak Chinese fluently, and this could be of undoubted help in attracting the Chinese vote. You have set your mind to setting up an SLD Think Tank, and you have already attracted people of the calibre of Frank Delaney and Petula Clark. You have pooh-poohed the idea of getting into bed with Dr Death. So far, so good. But my advice to you is this: don't put all your eggs in one basket. Even Mr Steel was wise enough to take a correspondence course in flower arrangement immediately prior to the last election, and now he can put it to good use. If I were you, I would expand the home-brew wine front over the next few years, and gradually ease out the politics. Twenty to 25 minutes a day is all that it takes to run the Liberal Party. Get it down to ten, and you're sailing.
I do hope my earlier reminiscences won't set Johnny Journalist on your well-turned heels, Patricia. The Special Ballet Squad- ron is immeasurably worse off without you.
Yours aye, Wallace
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