Case for Spooner as 'mine fan' for 'residing prole' in House

Amid the bubble and squeak which burbles from the Beehive, we hear hurt complaints about its sometimes grumpy Speaker, Trevor Mallard, writes John Lapsley.

Personally, I've time for any Speaker who is prepared to call a spade a shovel. But today we live in more correct times where directness is as frowned upon as cannibalism. So if Mr Mallard goes, he'll be replaced by a hero who spends mornings in front of the bathroom mirror, practising woke apologies.

But having this type of Speaker would miss part of the point of the job. There is something intrinsically fruity about the role of Speaker - sitting astride the woolly seat, wearing strange cloaks, following arcane traditions.

This demands the occupant's qualities include a whacko streak. Shane Jones may be an eccentricity too far, so I reach into the past to find someone we could look to as a role model for the job - a speaker who would inspire the drones. It need not be a politico. In fact a churchman like the Rev William Archibald Spooner might be just the ticket.

Rev Spooner (sadly, he passed in 1930), was a short, half-blind albino, whose sermons packed the pews in the illustrious New College Chapel at Oxford University.

This was a place which expected speakers reach the highest standards. Their Rev Spooner elevated English with his mastery of the eponymous Spoonerism - this being a phrase in which the first letters of words are skilfully inverted.

Asking his congregation to rise for song, Spooner announced: "Let us join in Hymn Number 37, The Kinquering Kongs, Their Titles Take."

A hesitant bridegroom was gently advised: "Albert, it is kisstomery to cuss the bride."' Spooner proposed the Loyal Toast to Victoria with: "Here's to our Queer Old Dean."

I am advised that through the auspices of the Commonwealth League, the legend's great-grandson, Canon Wilfred Spooner, is available as a fill-in Speaker. The Canon, also the member for Woe on Stold, is a solid all-rounder who bowls craftily flighted Spoonerisms and, batting at seven, takes the long handle to malapropisms. (He's at the pineapple of his career.)

I have been leaked a transcript of Canon Spooner's job interview, conducted at New Zealand House by First Secretary Quinton Stark-Brown.

"So you want me to step in for your Mr Duck?" asked Canon Spooner.

"You misunderstand. Trevor's not a Duck, he's a Mallard," said Stark-Brown.

"Good-oh, I knew he was some type of goose. Now if I'm to be your Speaker, I presume it's much the same as here in Westminster. We bear a mace and sit on a woolsack, from whence we control the mobs at the House of Reprehensibles."

"Well almost, but ..."

"They're a pixed munch, so you get troublemakers. I'm told that once a month I'll have to chuck out a chap called Piston Weeters?

"Actually, it's Winston Peters."

"Yes, as I said. Presumably he's named after Churchill, but I gather this Piston's as mean as custard?

"If you're thinking `keen as mustard', yes he does tend to spice things up," Stark-Brown allowed. "He's Deputy Prime Minister, but pretty much runs the place."

"Hmnn. Well I'd hope to find myself some queace and piet amidst your New Zealand tranquillity," said the Canon, confiding that he'd had Brexit up to his back dentures. "So if I do choose to spit in your peaker's chair, have you any troublesome Bills in the works? Things that might make it hard to neep at slights?"

"I should be frank," said Stark-Brown. "We're voting on euthanasia."

"Golly, that's brave. Youth in Asia? Look, at home we've steered clear of Youth in Asia votes. Surely it's none of our business - they should be allowed to make their own life choices."

"Good, we're on the same page, Canon. We've also got some Gender Wars battles in the petitions pipeline. There's a demand that schools stop teaching that boys are boys and girls, well, girls. We're considering a sound compromise - that pupils merely cross-dress. At first this would be for phys ed only."

"Dear Lord, fly will fur over that one," Canon Spooner mused. "Troublemakers should be put on the next drain out of town. But I have sound advice on the better burying of awkward proposals like these. Simply delay. Play for time. I suggest you have your Public Service set up Queering Committees."

"Queering Committees for sexual politics?" asked Stark-Brown, aghast. "Are you mite qad? Or do you mean STEERING Committees.

"Yes, as I said, Queering Committees. They muddle things admirably. Now, if I'm to do this job, I have a mousehold to hoove, and a wine collection for you to store.

"We'd best fet our gingers out. Exactly when will Mr Duck be clearing out his office?"

John Lapsley is an Arrowtown writer.