Dialogue: Back-end initials just not the same as a real title

By DON DONOVAN*

I shall miss Sirs and Dames.

Getting a handle to one's name was something an ordinary joker might aspire to, a heavenward move not so very different from, say, trading up to a Jaguar from a Sentra or a promotion carrying with it a neat sign gold-leaf-lettered and screwed to the new office door stating one's name and position: "D.F. Donovan. Chief Assistant to the Assistant Chief."

Such outwardly visible trappings of distinction as Sir and Dame are far more meaningful than tacking some obscure initials at the back end of your monicker. I'd much rather be Sir Donnybrook Donovan than just plain ordinary Don Donovan B&B, H&C, NQA, but now I'll never get the chance, That Woman has swept my dreams of status away without ever asking my opinion.

Mind you, knights and dames aren't necessarily the fine folk they were supposed to be. Some of them can be an awful let-down. My earliest literary memories revolve around an illustrated King Arthur and His Knights of the Table Round book which granny gave me when I was struggling to make the transition from pictures to words.

I studied the watercolours intently and boggled at the special powers of Sir Galahad, Sir Gawaine and Sir Launcelot who, cased in shimmering steel under billowing plumes, were surrounded by auras of ghostly light, sort of giving off goodness, chivalry and knightly qualities.

It wasn't until sometime later that I discovered that Launcelot was a prize ratbag, not only treacherous but also cuddling up to Queen Guinevere while Arthur was busy turning himself into a legend. I don't mind telling you that it came as an awful shock.

Even later in life, when I'd grown to man's estate, I came face to face with a real titled crook. He's dead now but this guy was a private sector adviser to the government on the allocation of funds for departmental publicity.

He did it so well that he was honoured for his services. He also did so well that significant amounts of money were channelled towards his own company.

I thought him despicable and it was probably from that time - over 30 years ago - that I developed a cynical approach to any of the Titled and the Honoured whose elevations resulted from their services to government.

How can anybody really trust the true worth of politically based handout titles, whether they are knights or dames or peers?

Which cynicism rather besmirches the nobleness of those whose titles were really earned and deserved - soldiers who commanded successful battles; artists, writers, musicians and performers of renown; statesmen devoted to the interests of peace; scientists toiling for humanity; doctors, teachers, surgeons, sports achievers; and those few ordinary people who spent their lives putting more into the community than they took out and whose devotion deserved the unsought recognition of a title.

Yes, I shall miss those Sirs and Dames but perhaps there's some comfort in knowing that members of the present Government, which appears devoted to the levelling of society into a flat, grey plain of boring humanity lacking individual distinction (the short-poppy syndrome) will not get any titles for their services - or disservices - to anything. They might get the odd back-end initial or two but who cares?

But with any luck, one or two of them (who might be really desperate for a title and are secretly disappointed at what That Woman has done) might get Sirred or Damed when the National Party returns to power, fulfils its promise to reinstate titles and exercises a retrospective magnanimity.

We may yet see: Dame Helen Clark, "for her services to aviation," Sir James Anderton "... to banking," Dame Margaret Wilson "... to the suppression of initiative." Even Sir Nandor Tanczos "...to horticulture."

No, upon reflection I think she's probably done the right thing. Take a memo, Jenny, when you get back in, slip in a quick Sir Burton and then be done with the whole business.

* Don Donovan is an Auckland writer.