RED RUIN AND HUMOR

Last week the throne of Great Britain fell. Fell likewise the English Constitution, history's most potent myth. The Houses of Parliament followed the example of those in Ottawa--they went up in flames. Mobs bearing the Red flag and singing the "International" possessed themselves of Hyde Park and Trafalgar Square. Hotels and public buildings were sacked. The aristocracy was obliterated, the proletariat emancipated. Cockney Lenins were supreme. The greatest cataclysm since the Black Plaguo, had wrecked the greatest empire since Caosar Augustus.

The news swept over the radio. Country dames, undisturbed since "Boney" pranced on the sands of Boulogne, barricaded themselves in remote closets. One sheriff from the north counties telephoned the Mayoress of Newcastle to learn what the constabulary was doing to frustrate the Red menace. But he was only carrying coals to Newcastle; for the Mayoress probably wanted to know herself.

What was the purpose of this great upheaval? What its accomplishments? The purpose was to discover whether the English have a sense of humor. The accomplishment was to discover that but one man in all "merrie England" did have a sense of humor, and that man was the very imaginative and reverend. Father Ronald Knox, radio broadcaster extraordinary. Although this is a rather conclusive indictment of English humor, few Americans would answer for the unanimity of laughter, if such a prank were played in Boston.