Commons Rules the Waves

One of the most exclusive clubs in England opened itself to electronic eavesdropping last week. The cut and thrust of parliamentary debate has often been touted as the best show in town. Winston Churchill was known to prepare for Commons debate by rehearsing one-liners in his bath. Until last week, however, the audience was limited to the lucky few whose passes admitted them to a cramped and remote area of the House of Commons known as "the Strangers' Gallery." Deciding it was time to pillory each other more publicly, the M.P.s recently voted to permit live radio broadcasts of their floor debates during a four-week experiment. Thus last Monday the mother of Parliaments made her maiden performance on the air.

Almost immediately, it became clear that never did so few have so little to say to so many. The historic first transmission was a 100-min. broadcast beginning with "Question Time," the daily parrying ritual in which M.P.s ask Cabinet ministers about matters of policy. Those who tuned in hoping to gauge their M.P.'s mettle or even recognize their voices were often completely confounded by the Commons' rules of procedures. Questions were recorded in advance on an "order paper," and the Speaker later posed them by simply referring to the number of the question and name of the questioner. The result was frequently a totally unilluminating exchange that sounded Like: Speaker: "Mr. Smith." Minister: "No, sir, I will not." That left listeners wondering whether the question was "Will you please resign?" or, perhaps, "Will you address yourself to the price of beans in Liverpool?" Confusion was compounded by the Commons' tradition of referring to members by their constituencies rather than their surnames. Relatively few listeners, presumably, realized that a reference to "the right honorable gentleman from Bexley, Sidcup" meant former Prime Minister Edward Heath.

Even more unintelligible was the background chorus of calculated coughs, groans and mumbles, punctuated by occasional cries of "Hear! hear!" "Rubbish!" and "Sit down!" As the Daily Telegraph observed: "Certainly those who had never before heard that curious compromise between a belch, a yawn and a groan, which [is officially transcribed] as a 'cheer,' must have been hard put to know what it signified." Coming through clearly, however, was a cry of "Send him to Europe!" when Labor M.P. Andrew Faulds hailed Wilson as a "wily old wizard" for his recent success in the EEC referendum.

In the present Parliament, oratory is often more tinny than golden. The only bon mot of the day came from Labor's former Industry Minister Anthony Wedgwood Benn. The embattled Benn responded to Tory taunts that he resign by taking an ungentlemanly swipe at Conservative Party Leader Margaret Thatcher: "If the opposition wants my head on a salver, the leader of the Conservative Party will have to be a lot more seductive Salome than she has been so far." Less dazzling repartee came from left-wing Labor M.P. Eric Heffer, who responded testily to a pro-Market interjection by shouting, "Aw, shut up! Sha-a-a dupp!"

The broadcast clearly captured at least something of the flavor of the House, and not everyone found it palatable. "We'd never stand for this sort of audience in our business," said Comedian Mike Yarwood, one of whose specialties is impersonating Prime Minister Harold Wilson. Scriptwriter Johnny Speight, who created the British model for America's Archie Bunker, thought that the broadcast from the Commons "has the making of a good comedy series." Some disagreed. A BBC spokesman admitted that several peeved listeners had called in to ask what had happened to Listen with Mother, the regular program that had been pre-empted for the occasion.

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