CRACKERS
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Political Commentary By JANUS
WITH his right forefinger Maggie's brother, Cromwell, carefully removed a fragment of a Christmas cracker from the corner of his left eye. "The explosions get stronger every year," he observed, and the mottoes weaker. Look at this one, for example' What is the favourite carol of the Minister of Transport, Mr. Ernest Marples? Answer: I'm dreaming of a White Paper'"
"Besides being a poor joke, that is not really what I should call a carol," Maggie objected.
"And hardly what is generally understood by a Christmas sentiment," I said. "As I understand the policy of the Government, which the Minister is following out, they are tired of keeping the British Transport Commission afloat with subsidies, and they now say that the railways must sink or swim."
"Talking about sinking and Christmas," said Cromwell, emerging from the debris of another cracker, "here is something you may like better= What is Sir Brian Robertson's favourite carol? Answer: The little buoy that Santa Claus forgot.'"
Mr. (Scrooge) Marples?
"That seems no funnier than the other one," complained Maggie. "And as I said before, they are not proper carols. One might just as well say that Cromwell's favourite carol is Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer."
"Perhaps we had better play another game," I said soothingly. "Any minute now somebody will be casting Mr. Marples for the part of Scrooge."
"It is brave of him to say anything about the railways at this time of the year," Cromwell conceded. "Christmas is the railway season. So many of us are feverishly buying toy trains in the shops that it must seem only natural that we should go on buying real trains in the Budget."
"As the American colonists might have said at the Boston tea-party," I added, "no taxation without transportation."
Maggie's niece Charlotte stopped eating for a morrient.
"You have got it wrong as usual, Uncle," she said. "But you have reminded me of something. Miss Blench, our English teacher, has told us to write an essay on 'Transportation is Civilization' as a holiday task. What does it mean?"
"One of the Noble Lords worked it into his speech in the debate the other day," I told her, "and perhaps that is where Miss Blench picked the phrase up. But if you want to know what is means, you must ask Kipling. He is supposed to have written it." • "Does it mean that the Minister of Transport is the Minister for civilization?" Charlotte asked. • "Somebody else suggested in the same debate that Mr. Marples might almost regard himself as the Minister for the Road Haulage Association," I replied, "so that perhaps he is what you say as well. Anyway, I am sure Uncle Cromwell, when he has had another drink, will be able to tell you enough on the theme to satisfy Miss Blench," `i If transport did not exist, it would be necessary to invent it," Cromwell misquoted. " There is an epigram you may like to work in somewhere."
"I do not exactly see how," said Charlotte primly.
"It seems quite plain to me," said Cromwell. "You will actually find that people without adequate transport pretend that it exists. Take the case of Santa Claus. He is supposed to come all the way from some unspecified but frozen base, B8 disregard all the traffic laws, and deliver goods over a wid distribution area. We know that most of the goods tha reach the stockings on Christmas Eve only travel fron the back of a high shelf in a cupboard, probably in th same room. To make the present acceptable, you have t( pretend it came a thousand miles in as many seconds."
"There are some presents we should like to see travel ling away from us at very much the same speed," mi.( Maggie "Like many other wonders of the past," I took up t1-1 story, "poor Santa Claus will soon be outdone even it speed by rocket propulsion and space travel."
"And there is a touch of irony in that which shoal( suit Miss Blench," said Cromwell. "How about somethim on these lines, Louie= Just when Santa Claus is glimmerim on the threshold of a practical possibility, one may b, fairly sure he would never get a licence to do the work '.'
"Perhaps he could make out a case for not needim one," I said. "Only the other week, the Transport Tribuna decided, in favour of an appellant with a C licence, tha the carriage of stolen goods was not transport for hit., or reward."
"Just as as well for him," said Cromwell. "Even if h, had been given a carriers' licence, it would not have don( him much good, since the Licensing Authority woulc have revoked it soon afterwards on the natural assumptior that the statement of intention or expectation had not beer fulfilled. I believe the vehicle owner went to prison, an he could hardly have intended that."
"All this is not helping me a bit, even if I could under stand it," Charlotte complained. "Miss Blench says Sant Claus is a symbol of infantile regression and a manifestatior of repressed desires, most of them unpleasant."
Scientific Blinding "Miss Blench sounds the sort of girl you can easil3 blind with science," said Cromwell. "Why not start ofl on the highest plane, at Institute of Transport level, witt some remark that sounds impressive but really does not mean a thing? You could say, for instance: Civilization means wanting what you cannot have or not wanting what you can have.' You can then make a fairly easy modulation into the subject of Miss Blench's repressed desires.'
" That is a subject we would rather leave strictly to Miss Blench and you," said Maggie primly.
"You can say that again," Cromwell agreed with alacrity. "Although, mind you, I should prefer to have a look at Miss Blench first."
"How am I to get my essay done if I'm forbidden to play gooseberry? " Charlotte asked impatiently.
"I imagine your Uncle Cromwell has no lack of other more suitable ideas," Maggie reassured her.
"Well, at least I have the first sentence," Charlotte admitted. "Civilization is a compound of unfulfilled desires and undesired fulfilments."
"You make it sound as if you were back to Miss Blench whether your Aunt Maggie likes it or not," said Cromwell. "There are several possible ways of continuing, and they probably all contradict each other, so that I shall restrict myself to one. All you have to say is that the progress of our civilization—if you can call it progress—is marked by the gradual decline of magic, and that most magic consists mainly of transport without a vehicle."
"And also without a licence, although sometimes that is called by a different name," I interjected.