judge,” said the twinkling Chief Secretary.  “He told the story himself with great glee, and here it is.  Mr Justice Wylie, the last, and one of the best judges appointed in Ireland, was riding on a tramcar to a hunting meet.  When he got to the end of his ride, there were some policemen on duty, and they did use a word which, I trust, no hon.  Member of this House will ever use in calling him down from the tram.  They did him no harm.  He treated it as a joke, and he would be the man most surprised to find it quoted in the House and in the Observer as an example of the decadence of the Irish police.”  I agree with Sir Hamar.  A joke is a joke, and many Irishmen, unlike Mr Justice Wylie, are unduly thin-skinned.  The only criticism I would make on Sir Hamar Greenwood’s idea of a joke is that he appears to suggest that it would have been less funny if the Black-and-Tans had done the judge some harm.  I should have expected him rather to dilate on the attractions of life in the Irish police force for men with a sense of humour.  Suppose the judge had been robbed of his watch, or had had his front teeth broken with the muzzle of a revolver like the University Professor at Cork, would not that have made the incident still funnier?  Suppose he had been carried round as a hostage on a motor-lorry, or shot with a bucket over his head, as has happened to other innocent men, would it not have been a theme for Aristophanes, who got so much fun out of the idea of one person’s being beaten in mistake for another?

I am confident that distinguished Englishmen will behave in the spirit of Mr Justice Wylie, when there is an outbreak of humour among the English police.  Mr Justice Darling will, no doubt, enjoy himself hugely on the day on which an armed policeman first holds up his motor-car, and addresses him:  “’Ullo, you blasted old Bolshevik, come off the perch, and quick about it, and put up the ’Idden ’And!” There are some judges who would complain to the Home Office, if such a thing happened to them.  Mr Justice Darling, however, has a keen sense of humour.  I feel certain that on arriving in Court after his experiences he would tell the story with great glee.  He would turn up his face sideways, as he does when he is amused, and say to the jury:  “A most amusing thing happened to me this morning, by the way ...”  There is no end, indeed, to the directions in which a police force saturated with the Greenwoodian sense of fun might add to the gaiety of nations.  They might arm themselves with squirts, and laughing Cabinet ministers would have to duck as they passed down Whitehall in order to avoid a drenching.  Pluffing peas at the bishops on their way to the House of Lords would also be good sport, so long as they did not really hurt any of them.  To bash the Lord Chancellor’s hat over his eyes would be going too far, as it involves a money loss, but a harmless blow on the crown with a bladder would be rather amusing.  It would also be amusing if a number of policemen