On the House [antikvár]

Introduction A while ago I was sent to cover a tour by a Very Senior Minister. Nothing of any importance whatever transpired on this trip, so I contented myself with sending a few light-hearted observations back to my newspaper, chiefly contrasting the culture, the customs and the poverty of the countries we were visiting with the urbane British smoothness of the Very Senior Minister. After a week or so, the VSM's public relations man came steaming up to me at a reception. The Minister would like to know,' he said crisply, 'if you are going to write seriously about this tour or whether you intend to persist in what he regards as childish, schoolboy humour?' I said I was sorry that he hadn't thought the jokes funny, but added that I hadn't actually criticized his boss. 'The Minister does not mind criticism. He does, however, expect to be taken seriously.' That last remark seemed to sum it all up. Politicians really don't much mind criticism, any more than children mind being hit by mud pies. Getting them back in your face is half the fun of throwing them. But they do hate to be regarded as figures of jest. If you call a man The Worst Chancellor Of The Exchequer Since The Norman Conquest, you are in a curious way adding to his sense of self-esteem. He is an historical figure, a man with a walk-on part in destiny. Point out that he has a silly giggle or dandruff, and you make him a mere human, once more one of us.