It is once again the start of the much-lauded Wednesday Speakers' Luncheon series, which runs for the next 10 weeks. This is the club's means of forcing the most narcoleptic mems to come to grips with what is happening outside the marble walls of our sanctuary by the harbour.
I recall one heavily attended lunch when the Minister of Education gave a dismal speech on today's high school graduates, but closed with the startling revelation that to complete both math and English in the same year seemed a bit unfair to the academically uninspired of today, so that requirement would henceforth be dropped for postsecondary education.
A normally disinterested mem of a great age asked, "Why are they simply not flogged into learning the bloody subjects?" It was then that many of the club's inhabitants discovered for the first time that corporal punishment had been banned for 30 years and in fact now was a criminal offence, far more serious than overly progressive teachers forming romantic liaisons with their students.
That information brought the heartfelt retort from the throbbing audience of "Oh." Dozens of buttered buns were then thrown in disgust at the ducking minister, who, still holding his dessert, the club's famous apple crumble, made a dash for the limo idling outside the back door.
I am told by the chairman of the luncheons that this year they have tried to spread their net farther and wider in an effort to entice all mems who are still extant to take an interest in the lineup of speakers, which is posted in the front foyer by the reception desk.
It appears the season will kick off with a psychiatrist from Zurich on the subject "Love Is Still Possible Into Your 90s but It Is Not Pretty." It has to do, I am informed, with first removing every mirror in one's house to end one's self-loathing, and then slurping down oysters every hour for two days or until the cost beggars you. It is at this point the good doctor guarantees that you will rush, cooing and billing, towards your slumbering spouse in her rocking chair, suggesting a series of shocking actions. His speech promises to be well-attended. The St. John's ambulance will be nearby.
Another speaker is a new-wave doctor who suggests when the inevitable tumour appears near your brain, the thing to do is stand on your head for an hour in the afternoon after a large meal so that the nourishment from said meal will go directly to the brain, thus fighting the tumour to a standstill. He has admitted, however, in a long article passed about the club that many clients who have tried his method have come away pop-eyed and very confused as to whether they are cured or just dizzy.
These two will be followed by a few politicians who no doubt will call each other liars and thieves before going off for a friendly drink together to discuss their pensions and per diems.
Unfortunately, the Brigadier has once again talked his way onto the podium as a guest speaker, even after perpetrating his usual outrage last year.
Many of us will not soon forget the look on the face of the visiting British veterinarian when he described the army's use of horses in the 19th century as "beastly" and the Brigadier shrieked back that the army had nothing to do with "bestiality."
He then tried to have the alarmed doctor horsewhipped for spreading false accusations about stable grooms who were not present to contest the slander and as far as he knew had gone on to happily married lives.
The Brigadier's subject this year is "The Hidden Joys of Collecting Salt and Pepper Shakers." I might give that one a miss.
However, outside of that one hiccup, I must raise a toast to this year's luncheon committee and their efforts to swell the grey matter at the club. [email protected]
