Try Again. Bonk!

Bonk's Liberator for 1936 was Henri Christophe, who hadn't been told about the 40-hour week. This was a vigorous speech, and many fans thought it should at least have been placed. The Tourist Department ought to get down on his description of Haiti and all that tropical moonshine. (If too late, try "Tattoo" advertisement.)

"Night! A m'bongo bird twittered on the outskirs of M'bongo-M'bongo" (Has this got punch? I'll say!) "Crashed the ceaseless cudgelling of clubs, and droned indeed the deathless dirge of drums." Thus descended the Perryration, in which Peter Chanel persistenly proselytised the primeval pagans of the perilous Pacific.

Marg Shortall, introducing a well-known Crusader for armaments and for "things more precious than gold—oil, for example," sketched Sir Basil Zaharoff through troubled times to a final, well-earned haven at Monte Carlo. But Marg misjudged the judges. Although with elegant wit she carved Sir Basil into small pieces, she failed to treat him with proper respect. As unforgivable was the crime of the savage who ate a missionary during Lent! Judged solely by the effect on the audience this speech would have ranked high.

"Rosa talked, Rosa fumed, and the crowd listened; Rosa talked, Rosa fumed, and the crowd got ear-ache." For once, the thorny path of revolution was a bed of Rosas. Ken brought a new style a new formula, to the Plunket oration. But it must be before its time. It recalled the work of Gertrude Stein; but audiences are still Philistine.

The last heroine of the evening was Jane Addams, remembered to the world as the woman who talked about her activities even at meal-times. Miss Stock bewailed the fact that Jane had been branded at anarchist and vilified as a pacifist, but the show of heavy indignation hardly went across.

In the long retirment of the judges we were convinced of the urgent need for some elimination contest for would-be interval stopgaps. Is it any wonder if judges go out and stay out?