FEWER LAWS WANTED

Rotorua Morning Post, Volume 1, Issue 149, 16 February 1932, Page 7

FEWER LAWS WANTED

GREAT MODERN NEED LEGISLATION DESTROYS THE ONCE MERRY ENGLAND. The waiter, who had been casting anxious glances at my table, finally came up, muttered something about tbe time, gasped an apology, and picked up my bottle and glass and whisked them away. I was not drunk. I was an adult eitizen quietly digesting my supper; but the hour had struck, curfew had rung, and my bottle and niy glass, like two Cinderellas, had to leave. It was midnight, and prohibition had set in for the next twelve hours, writes J. B. Priestley, in the 'Evening Standard.' Meditating upon this ignominious proceeding, I asked myself who exactly it was that had caused this removal of my drink. The waiter did not want to take my bottle away; the proprietor didn't; the man at the next tahle didn't; and I didn't. The poliee? Yes, but only as public agents. The public, then? But what public? Not myself, nor the proprietor, nor the waiter, nor the other diners — and we were the people most coneerned in the matter. I thought of as many members of the public as I could rapidly summon to mind, and none of them frowned upon my having a drink after 12 at night in a restaurant. No doubt there are all manner of Chadbandish gentlemen who strongly disapprove of such praetices, but I could not see that these people were any more entitled tQ make the laws than myself and my friends. This, I told myself, is a piece of tyrannical humbug. It would be only fair, I added indignantly, if we insisted upon . a little compulsion. For years now we have been eompelled by Chadbandish gentlemen with loud voices and parcels of votes up their sleeves to stop doing this and that. Suppose we compel them, for a change? What about a law making every eitizen sit up at least one night a week and drink a bottle of wine in public after 12? It would be only fair. Early and Dry. Under the present arrangement Chadband likes to go to bed early and dry; therefore I have to go to bed early and dry. Chadband says that if a certain piece is performed at the theatre it will offend him, so it is censored. He would not see the play anyhow,' but that is not enough for him; he is detei'mined that I shan't see it. Well, why not give me a turn, and compel Chadband to see certain plays — all quite immoral — at my direction? That would be only fair. But then, I am a tolerant man, and don't really want to compel Chadbandish people to do anything they don't want to do except to mind their own business and morals. Although they have been bullying me for years I am ready to forgive them and to propose that in I future they go their way and I go [ mine, with no bullying or interfer- , ence on either side. And I put this startling revolutionary proposal to the new National Government, which, if it really is a National Government, should begin by considering the national temper a little. We have, I think, been dictated to long enough by deacons and elders. There are two Englands — a merry England and a moral England. The latter is really much smaller than the former, but it has been better organised, has had a shriller voice, and has commanded more blocks of votes, with the re'sult that it has eontrived to make all the laws. And I cannot see why- our social life should he moulded any longer by shop-and-chapel opinions. Let us, if necessary, divide up the country and separate the merry England from the moral one. Its Own Capital.

The moral one should have a capj ital of its own, and because of its Cockney traditions and its hospitality j to visitors of every kind London is obviously unsuitahle. Londqn should be the capital of the merry England, a place in which you can do what you | l'ke so long as you do not make a j real nuisanee of yourself. The other ' England could have, say, Birming- [ ham, as its capital. ! There all these repressive people I could pass all the laws they pleased; j no drinks at any hour, no mixed j bathing, no bare legs, no wicked books I and plays, curfew for everybody at | 9 o'clock. Everybody there could ! be as busy as they pleased censuring everybody else's morals. All those young persons who have to be so carefully protected could be promptly despatched to this England, out of harm's way. They would be able to stop everything — dancing, betting, I kissing in ears, Sunday performances, cigarette smoking, even washing and eating — and everybody would be virtuous. Then the other England, in which I would instantly propose to live, could go to perdition at its own sweet pace. Its Government could busy itself all the time looking after the larger affairs of State,- instead of being a governess and a grandmother. The primrose way would be open for all. At first we would abuse our liberties, simply because we are not yet quite a civilised people or really adult. ,But we would learn quiclcly. In a sideboard, faeing me as I write, there are bottles of whisky, gin, vermouth, port, sherry and liqueur brandy, and they all belong to me, and there is nobody here to say I must not touch them. Yet — strange as it may* seem — I am not feverishly opening bottle after bottle, pouring out glass after glass, drowning myself in the stuff. I am not, at the moment, touching any of them. And when I find myself in countries where I can, if necessary, drink all night I do not make a point of sitting up, night after night, to see how much I can drink. But there are times when a man. warits to sit up very late in public with his friends to celebrate something, and he has a right to satisfy this ancient human need. An Adventure. If we had this merry England it would he exeiting to find out what would become of us. We should, you must remember, he entirely, unprotected. The Government, apart from keeping ofder, would not1 look after us. We should he able to buy lottery tickets all day, to call for drinks at any hour, to attend such terribly blasphemous plays as 'Green Pastures,' to stare at row and rows of the barest legs, to be subjeeted to the most terrible temptations. So much liherty, I admit, is frxght-

ening — for those of us who know Continental cities, such as Lyons or Leipzig, know what freedom has done for them, just making life there one long orgy — and perhaps it would be too much for us. Perhaps there eouldn't he a merry England and we English could never reaeh a genial adult life. But it seems to me worth trying, just for onee, This is an experimental age. We have a Government with a massive majority that has just been put into power by the people of this country. I wish it would try some of us — the merry, not the moral, English — with a latehlcey and a - little m'oney of our own to spend as we please. That nonsmoking, ttninusical , woman-hating killjoy who> seems to have slipped in dozens and dozens of laws while we were ndt looking has had his way long enough. Let him go to — Birmingham! iSiBLaj —