Haemorrhoid goes Wilde

The domino game was once again threatening to descend into anarchy when Haemorrhoid turned up. Gene Autry hadn't been available and my substitute partner, Jimmy Hunchback (the world's worst but also luckiest domino player), couldn't understand why I kept pushing a domino of which I was short to trick opponents into introducing my card. I kept warbling the words of the great Glenroy Michael Archangelo Smith ('Ernie' to his friends):

"Free up de key card, babyfadda. Me sey fi 'memba sey I man and dat man a partner."

But nobody would 'free up' my card, and when the score reached love-five, Jimmy became cantankerous. At that psychological moment, Haemorrhoid arrived. Regular readers remember Haemorrhoid (real name Ernest H. Flower), that young, lazy, incompetent articled clerk (student solicitor), whose nickname combined his middle initial with his constant complaints about "piles and piles" of work on his desk. A brilliant raconteur but dreadful domino player, he was only allowed to watch in exchange for a story.

It wasn't long before he was waffling on about a family of traditional British aristocrats named Bale living in the early 1940s. The first Lord (John) Bale was a duke of the early peerage subsequently elected to the House of Lords, but the family, as comprehensively unqualified as one can be, had fallen upon hard times and the current Lord did little but wander around the castle, drink and visit his pigs.

inconvenient love

The original duke had three grandchildren, the Honourable John Bale III ('Young John' who became duke), the Honourable Anthony 'Tony' Bale and the Honourable Esther Bale, a spinster. Young John's first son was John IV (naturally) but, as an enthusiast of modern telegraphy, everybody called him 'Sparky'. Tony's daughter was named for her maiden aunt but became known as 'Etty', while Aunt Esther was alive.

Sparky fell head over heels in love with cousin Etty. She loved him too but was of a more practical bent and understood that, even in thoroughly modern 1940s England, such liaisons were discouraged. Etty was coy.

One day, at a family picnic, Etty drifted away from the main gathering and wandered off to the lake. Sparky, spotting an opportunity to press his claims to her troth, followed. At lakeside, Sparky pursued Etty relentlessly but she stoutly rebuffed his advances. All this was spotted by Harold, the Pig Man, who, later, around the servants' dinner table, pithily described the scene as "The Hon Sparky Bale in hot pursuit of the Hon Etty Bale".

So it was that Haemorrhoid's admission fee was paid by butchering Oscar Wilde's dismissive description of aristocracy's favourite sport, the fox hunt. But, back home in the 21st century, Government continues playing a similarly cruel game with its financial promises to us. First, GOJ's hounds hunt our Treasury bills, painstakingly acquired based upon solemn promises of specific rewards.

Government's solemn promises induced us to hand over our capital, which it promptly spent to its benefit.

Meanwhile, we sacrificed our chances at alternative investment opportunities. The hounds, unconcerned with Government's prior contractual obligations, pried our investments from our hot little fists and savaged them until they were worthless.

Our consolation prizes were new promises of less-attractive rewards. This callous fox hunt was clothed in three-piece suits and called Jamaica Debt Exchange (JDX).

unconscionable incompetence

Not satisfied with that killing, Government continues hunting our entitlements with an Oliver Twistian obsession for 'more'. Now it's after civil servants' retroactive pay. Having entered solemn contracts to pay retroactive salary increases, Government now wants to renege on another promise. Government isn't asking for time to pay. It's asking hard-working public servants to refund a year's increase. How unconscionable is it for a profligate Government to spend $800 million building one kilometre of road but ask low-income civil servants to bail Government out of the consequences of its own incompetence? Is this JDX II? What's next? Will civil servants be asked to forgo all salary?

Fox hunts were finally abolished by the British Parliament in 2004 after a dramatic stand-off with the House of Lords which adamantly refused assent to end their brutal fun. But our Government, dissatisfied with the fruits of iniquitous taxation and windfalls from local debt default, now tries to dishonour salary contracts? Seriously? Is Government a congenital Indian giver? Can't it resist making promises it can't keep? Will this ignoble attempt to confiscate civil servants' honest earnings ever end? Doesn't Government know blood can't come from stone? This is truly The Unspeakable in hot pursuit of The Uneatable.

Peace and love.

Gordon Robinson is an attorney-at-law. Email feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com.