It is based on "Bromides" and any one can play it. The least educated
has a chance of winning and an Oxford degree is no bar to success--quite
the reverse, in fact; indeed I have known dons....
This is how it is played. Two people are seated in easy-chairs, for it
has been found that you cannot be too comfortable for this game; any
discomfort is apt to excite the mind, to disturb the grey matter, to
interfere with that complete repose which is so essential a feature of
the contest. These two are the players. They indulge in small talk and
the smaller talker wins. The object of each player is to make such
inanely conventional remarks that his opponent is reduced to silence.
For example you are sitting next to a bishop, and it falls to you to
start the conversation. Of course you don't say anything like "How sad
about this Kikuyu business." No, you open like this. "Are you fond of
dancing?" you say. The bishop will reply coldly, "It is many years since
I danced." You sigh and murmur, "Ah! the dear old days!" I cannot
imagine what his lordship will say next.
Of course the conversation in Platitudes must be connected and coherent.
There is no use repeating "Wollah wollah, gollah gollah, ASQUITH must
go, We want eight," or things of that sort. And you must not make mere
blank statements like "The number of cigars annually imported into the
U.S.A. is 26,714,811," unless they can be introduced deftly into the
conversation.
You must imagine yourself paying a call in a London drawing-room, and
you must say nothing that would not be possible and indeed suitable in
that _milieu_. To attempt to arouse any interest or show any
intelligence is wrong, but then neither must you betray any sign of
actual imbecility. Anything that approaches gibbering cannot be too
strongly condemned.
The players speak in turn and quotations are not allowed (at least not
from living writers). The question as to whose talk is the smaller of
the two is so much a matter of taste that the game can only be decided
by an umpire or by the votes of the spectators. But there is seldom
much doubt. It is not uncommon for one of the players to break down and
become almost hysterical, and few can hold out long against one of the
champions. Some people allow facial expression and general demeanour to
count, but this I do not recommend. It gives some an unfair advantage,
and I have known it lead to unpleasantness.
Perhaps a short sample will give a better idea of the game than any
description. I take one from a little tournament in which I competed a
few days ago. I was highly commended, but it was thought I displayed a
little too much intelligence. This is one of the pleasing features of
Platitudes; when one loses, things like that are somehow said, as they
are never said, for instance, at Bridge. From this specimen the beginner
will learn the right style and method. Only by study of the best models
and by constant practice can he attain anything like proficiency.
_He._ What a world we live in, do we not? (_This is a very common
opening._)
_She._ Yes, to be sure. Dear, dear!
_He._ The age is so complex, so full of rush and hurry. Everyone is
running after money, are they not?
_She._ They are not. I mean they are.
_He_ (_heaving a sigh_). How sad it is!
_She_ (_in a tone of gentle correction_). It is deplorable. Did you read
Mr. Goldstein's speech the other day? I thought it so sweet! He said
that the possession of wealth entailed great responsibilities.
_He._ How like him! (_After a pause_) And how true! Yes, things are in a
bad way.
_She._ How one deplores these strikes.
_He_ (_sternly_). They ought to be shot.
_She._ Too dreadful. I think it is so terrible when quite nice people
are positively inconvenienced. It makes one think of the French
Revolution.
_He._ Ah! Yes, the French Revolution. Well, well, the good old days are
gone.
_She._ Yes, they have quite gone.
_He_ (_sighing heavily_). Dear, dear, dear, dear! May I have some
teacake?
_She._ Oh do! but I'm afraid they're cold.
_He._ I like them cold. I think they are so much cooler then.
_She._ They are a shade less warm.
[_There was a short interval here when the supporters of each party
gathered round and gave advice and encouragement. The lady seemed as
fresh as a fiddle, but the man was very exhausted and had to have a
spirituous stimulant. After a quarter-of-an-hour's interval the game was
resumed._]
_She._ Look at the fashionable ladies and their dogs! The sums they
lavish on them!
_He._ Oh, it's disgraceful. The Government ought to do something.
_She._ I call it wicked.
_He_ (_much struck with this_). You are quite right.
_She._ But mind you, I'm fond of animals myself.
_He._ Oh, so am I. I dote on dogs. You know, I call the horse a noble
animal--that's what I call the horse.
_She_ (_after a pause_). I call the camel the ship of the desert.
_He._ Ah, very witty, very clever. I see you have a sense of humour.
"Ship of the desert"--that's good.
_She._ Yes, I don't know what I should have done without my sense of
humour.
_He_ (_sharply_). No more do I.
_She_ (_confidentially_). You know, I think dogs should be treated _as_
dogs. They should be kept in their proper places. I like them best in
the country, you know. Don't you?
_He._ Yes. I think the country is the place for all animals. One sees so
many there--at least in some places.
_She._ I am so fond of the country. It is so restful. The old oaks and
the buttercups and the village rector and the dear cows. I don't know
what we should do without them.
_He._ That's what I say. Where would England be without the country?
_She._ Ah, yes. "Far from the madding crowd," as the poet says.
_He._ Yes. What a great poet MILTON is, to be sure.
_She._ Oh, delightful! And don't you like Miss WHEELER WILCOX?
_He._ Of course--ripping, yes, of course. Her poems of pleasure--her
poems of passion, her--well, in fact, all her poems.
_She._ Quite.
At this point the man broke down altogether and began to gibber. But he
recovered in time to see the prize unanimously voted to the lady. This
consisted of a volume of Mr. ----, but perhaps I had better not mention
names; it might be liable to misconstruction. I hope I have said enough
to show what a fascinating and delightful game it is. No appliances are
required (as with dominoes), except one's own nimble brain; and I think
Platitudes will soon sweep the country. Signs are not wanting that
Clumps and Dumb Crambo are already becoming back numbers in the best
circles.
* * * * *
"The military dirigible Koerting made the wound in the leg of Baron
de Rothschild. It was found to have flattened itself against the
bone."--_Egyptian Mail._
"The Koerting; so it is," said the Baron, when shown the X-ray
photograph of his calf.
* * * * *