FROM THE PRESSMAN'S VIEWPOINT

Radio Record, Volume I, Issue 25, 6 January 1928, Page 4

FROM THE PRESSMAN'S VIEWPOINT

THE HUMOUR OF POLITICS

Few pressmen in New Zealand can claim longer acquaintance with the Parliamentary Press gallery than Mr. Chas. E. Wheeler, who has had many unique experiences during the time he has been "listening-in" to the oft times dreary programmes provided by our legislators. Naturally enough he has become intimate with many of our legislators, past and present, and has amassed a fund of good stories regarding Parliament and its procedure. Recently Mr.. Wheeler gave some interesting addresses on the methods under which Parliament works, and these were so popular with listeners that he was asked to draw upon his humorous Parliamentary experiences for the benefit of the unseen audience of 2YA. The first of his chats on the humour of politics was given on December 22, and those who heard it will certainly be "on the air" for the subsequent instalments.

Mr. Wheeler explained that while: he would endeavour to raise a few laughs at politicians, he did not wish to convey the impression that they are humbugs. He simply laughed at them because they are so very human and he likes ’em,. By way of putting himself in the Eiitician’s position he told a story against himself, General Booth, father of the present head of the Salvation Army visited New Zealand and was duly interviewed by pressmen. He answered all their quéstions, and gave them a good "story" full of interest. Finally the old General, with a twinkle in his eye, asked the pressmen: "IIow much of my time have I given you, gentlemen?" "Half an hour, and we are very much: indebted to you, General" was the ready answer. "Then you won’t mind giving me ten minutes of your time?’ "Certainly not-delighted!" answered the unsuspecting scribes, whereon the General went down on his knees, invited his visitors to do the same, and then he prayed fervently for a long ten minutes for the newspapers, and the newspapermen of New Zealand! Radio comes into the political field, and the first sign of fun with the loud-speaker was in Liverpoo’ some years ago, when an immense meeting in the open was addressed by Lloyd George, with the aid of microphones and loud speakers. Having completed a point, Livyd George looked for the next lot of notes but could not find them, so he remarked to himself: "Where are those blessed free trade notes." There was a huge roar of laughter from the crowd, as the amplifying devices had sent out to the furthest extremities what seemed to be a shout from Lloyd George: Where are those blessed free trade notes?" _ Beware of a pause in publice speak-ing-someone may fill it in awkwardly for you. Once in our House of Representatives, a very slow speaker stopped for |

an appreciable time while he fumbled around for more notes. Ten seconds under these conditions seems like an age, and during this silent moment an Irish member rose to a point of order: "Mr. Speaker," he said, "I want to know-will all this soilence be recorded in Hansard?" . From a good collection of "bulls" the following recent one by a Southern member was extracted: In a debate on religious education he told his astonished colleagues: "Most members of this House are either fathers or mothers." During the war, when the principal parties united in the National Governmerit, the late Mr, Massey and Sir Joseph Ward were invited to attend the Imperial War Cabinet in London. They went to all officia! functions together-jointly repre. sentative of the Dominion. A visit to the front line in France was on the programme, and the two poli-. ticians were taken in hand by a young officer, whom they followed into a trench. It was narrow and the party walked in line, Mr. Massey following the officer, and Sir Joseph just behind. "This is a trench" whispered ‘the officer, and Mr. Massey, over his shoulder, whispered to Sir Joseph: "This is a trench." . Various other explanations were made very quietly by the officer, and duly whispered over the shoulder by Mr. Massey to his colleague. By and by, after a little spell, the single-file procession resumed, this time Sir Joseph Ward next to the officer. He, too, vretaled the officer’s remarks over his shoulder in a whisper. At last he quietly inquired: "How far are we from the front line now?" And the officer answered: "About two miles!" "Then what on earth are we whispering for" indignantly asked the New Zealand politician. "TI have a horrible cold" said the young officer hoarsely.