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Salient: Victoria University Students' Paper. Vol. 27, No. 15. 1964.

Satire in New Zealand

Satire in New Zealand

woodcut print of landscape by E. Mervyn Taylor

. . . editor of the "Public Service Journal", A former prominent student politician and editor of "Salient", he is the author of "'Grog's Own Country", an economist and one of The Rubbishers, a recently-formed satirical puppet theatre group.

An assignment to write on the state of satire in New Zealand is rather like undertaking a study of the Swiss Navy. To all intents and purposes, there isn't any—which s much to be deplored, for as Swift said in the clause in his will by which he bequeathed an endowment for a mental hospital to the Irish people. "God knows, no nation needs it as much."

In the past, the most consistent contributors in this field have been the occasional rhymesters like Gallagher (better known as "Willy-Nilly") who used to versify in the "Standard" and the "Southern Cross," and, over a longer period, "Whim Wham" (Just as well known by his real name) who still appears in a number of our urban daily papers. But the latter gentleman seems often to have run dry of the inspiration of which real satire is made.

These verses are in a tradition which goes back to the last century, where its origins lie in the semi-impromptu minstrelsy of the music-hall stage. Some of the songs of Charles Thatcher have survived from those days—highly erratic in quality, but spotted with brilliant satirical comments on the gold rushes and the Maori Wars.

The same music-hall traditions coloured the first few generations of New Zealand university student revues. The turn of century scripts (those I have seen > were too prissy to quite qualify as satire but, there was an evident intention to spoof selected personalities and institutions. The twenties, thirties, and early forties saw the flowering of satire in this form—at least at Victoria—with the group efforts of a team calling itself "The Seven Pillars of Wisdom," and climaxing with the solo productions of the inimitable Ronald L. Meek.

The public of New Zealand has shown its appreciation of satire by its response to the student extravaganza, and disappointment is often expressed at the lack of "bite" in some of the more recent productions. Perhaps because of this tradition, satire has come to be considered a student monopoly Undoubtedly our best satirists—Fairburn in "The Sky Is A Limpet" and perhaps even "How To Ride A Bicycle In Seventeen Lovely Colours." and Baxter in his "Harry Pat" ballads, not to mention Curnow in his really angry outbursts at the Auckland City hucksters' attitude to the University site issue and at the New Zealand Rugby Union over their imperviousness to criticism over the tour of South Africa in 1960—have all had certain hallmarks of "permanent undergraduateness."

The only periodical to consistently present a thread from this tradition was "Here and Now" (1949-1957 whose editor and publisher. Bob Lowry, belonged firmly to the permanent undergraduate school. Fairburn often appeared there, and much of Baxter's best satirical verse.

Curnow started a wholesome new lineage of satirical broadsheets with "The Hucksters and the University" (1957) and "On The Tour" (1960)—though mention should be made of a very occasional publication actually called "Broadsheet" which Brian Bell produced sporadically over a number of years in the late fifties and which contained much good satire, (I speak diffidently here, as Bell's publication carried my "Sing A Song Of Ninepence" at the time of the beer price rumpus in 1958).

Outside the student stream. Unity Theatre in Wellington has presented annual satirical revues, whose bite is often fairly well aimed. Although immediate audiences have been limited to a comparatively small membership of the Theatre, some of the cleverer lyrics and pieces saw the light of print in Bruce Mason's "We Don't Want Your Sort Here."

How ever, much of the satirical revue activity which is strictly outride the borders of regular student functions—Bill Sheat's Christmas shows of the last few' years, and Dunedin's "Yes-No Revue" of 1963—were definitely student in nature, origin, inspiration and tradition. And none the worse for that, of course.

Diffidently, again, I feel bound to mention "The Rubbishers." Their aim to transplant the tradition of political cabaret from the cellars of Paris and Frankfurt to the coffee-bars of Wellington, is almost certainly also in the student tradition. But some of the participants have not had even a nodding acquaintance with the university, and their object is to present more than one programme a year, which could well succeed in doing more than merely replacing the deficiencies of the modern extravaganza.

All in all. New Zealand satire is a meagre crop for a pasture so fertile in subject-matter. Maybe we should be thankful that it exists at all.