The following comes in multiple varieties: “For want of a nail the shoe was lost. For want of a shoe the horse was lost. For want of a horse the knight was lost. For want of a knight the battle was lost. For want of a battle the kingdom was lost. So the kingdom was lost—all for want of a nail.”
All for want of a nail! A far shorter version: “A stitch in time saves nine.” Nine what? Nine stitches, smartass! As already I’ve stated, there are countless versions of the aphorism. But regardless of which catches your fancy, they all warn against the dire consequences of procrastination for whatever reason. Including cowardice!
Consider the latest episode of the endless tragi-comedy performed at the nation’s only theater by graduates of the legendary La Rose Actors’ Studio, barely able to read their scripts, with no clear understanding of their respective roles. The reviews were all over the Internet, the majority saying, as usual, far more about the reviewers than the actual performances. Not that there was much meat for carving. The word that came to mind as I took in the spectacle from my armchair was déjà vu. But it never appeared in the anonymous Fakebook critiques, neither was it spoken by Newsspin’s notorious lovers of street theater wherever they encounter it. Perhaps the French word has not yet earned inclusion in our prized kwéyòl dictionary.
To be especially fair, there was nothing déjà vu about our most recent House Speaker. Perhaps he’s still finding his feet, learning how to coexist with the wildlife in their particular neck of the woods (I almost said zoo). He’s been at it just over two years. Unlike the legendary Wilfred St. Clair Daniel, who was Speaker for most of his working life. Besides, it would not serve the newcomer well to be perceived as emulating the Speaker at the time of the previous administration. That would be tantamount to treachery deserving of banishment to some particularly frigid zone.
Keeping in mind the history of his immediate predecessor, chances are the current occupier of the main chair in the House sought inspiration elsewhere. As for the Speaker at the time of Sir John’s passing and Stephenson King’s arrival as prime minister, perhaps the best that might be said of the particular appointment is that it proved beyond doubt that what keeps the male Saint Lucian heart pumping is not so much hemoglobin as misogyny.
Mention of the 2006-11 Speaker reminds of her laudatory if lofty ambitions at the start of her stint. By reliable account she had always taken a keen interest in public affairs, hardly missing a session of parliament. For most of her life she’d also been a school teacher. Ergo, when she was given the opportunity to serve as Speaker she had
at the top of her list a more, shall we say, civilized communication among MPs, and the eschewing of words more suited to bar-room bacchanal. Doubtless she knew well the horrors that from 1979 through ’82 had invaded the honorable House.
The good lady dreamt in vain, as it turned out. Almost from the moment she took her oath of office she found herself under attack, subtle and otherwise, until the final explosion shortly before the 2011 general elections. And all because the opposition leader and former constitutional law lecturer Kenny Anthony had decided only his self-serving interpretation of “as soon as convenient” mattered and not that of the other side, which coincided with the Speaker’s.
The recorded consequent upheaval was surpassed only by another unforgettable House incident in the early 80s, when at least one MP threatened to discharge his firearm in the mouth of a parliamentary colleague; when the Mace was tossed around the chamber as if it were a ball at a basketball game; when the Speaker was forced to take refuge in his office.
It has long become de rigueur for defenders of the hinted-at chaotic incidents to cite out of control parliaments in other countries with cultures altogether different from ours, and little the majority here would wish to emulate. Some even mention House of Lords debates,
which can at times be quite boisterous but never to the extent that an MP would even consider laying a hand on the Mace or declaring other honorable members “renegades, criminals and money launderers.”
The British parliament permits members, as does our own, certain privileges. Unlike in our House, however, British MPs are not permitted to label their colleagues liars and thieves. The noise from the chamber is usually supportive of a statement or jeers, which usually end the moment the Speaker has demanded “order!” So far as I can tell, no British MP has ever had reason to run for his life during a House debate.
And speaking of House privileges, there are stated limits to what MPs can say, especially referencing regular citizens by name. I cannot imagine the leader of Her Majesty’s opposition in Britain threatening a prime minister who has announced an investigation into matters of public interest. To threaten to shoot a fellow MP in the mouth would probably result in instant resignation for the would-be assassin.
But to return to where we started: had the rules been adhered to when George Odlum had good cause to rename the House of Parliament “the
House of Dissemble”; had the day’s Speaker called on the sergeant at arms and his men to do their duty instead of ensconcing himself in a safe haven when the chamber overheated and that earlier cited MP spoke of shooting lips from the hip; had the 2011 Speaker taught the then opposition leader an unforgettable lesson in professional etiquette; we might not now be burdened with our present House of ill repute operated by delicate madams and wimpy males with suspiciously long nails!
