# Punch/Volume 147/Issue 3809/Platitudes

PLATITUDES: THE NEW GAME.
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 "Wallah 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 tea-cake?
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.