Finally! Knighthoods are back and I, for one, am beside myself with excitement. I almost have to pinch myself – an act that being beside myself makes a whole lot simpler. Clearly, someone has been getting my letters, emails and scrolls sent by carrier pigeon. For too long, this country has been without the crowning glories that are ‘Sir’ or ‘Dame’; ever since Prime Minister Bob Hawke abolished the honours in 1986 in favour of the title, ‘Maaaate’. It’s time to set the record straight. Or, to put it more accurately: it’s time to set the record straight.
Finally! Knighthoods are back and I, for one, am beside myself with excitement. I almost have to pinch myself – an act that being beside myself makes a whole lot simpler. Clearly, someone has been getting my letters, emails and scrolls sent by carrier pigeon. For too long, this country has been without the crowning glories that are ‘Sir’ or ‘Dame’; ever since Prime Minister Bob Hawke abolished the honours in 1986 in favour of the title, ‘Maaaate’. It’s time to set the record straight. Or, to put it more accurately: it’s time to set the record straight.
There are lots of reasons to celebrate the return of knighthoods, not least of which is the reintroduction of jousting as a mainstream sport. For too long, kids have had to waste their Saturday mornings playing football, netball and cricket when, instead, they should be strapping on their armour and taking the family horse out for a vigorous bout of jousting. It’s been yonks since I’ve taken the jousting sticks out. And with armour being the must-have fashion item in 2014, the term ‘throwing down the gauntlet’ will no longer be a mere turn of phrase as ordinary citizens peel off their metal gloves and cast them groundwards, before challenging someone to a dual. This nation has long been iron deficient and only a return to full body armour can fix it.
As a child, I longed to be knighted. If chances didn’t look good, I was going to change my name from ‘Stuart’ to ‘Sir Stuart’. This would work vastly improve my chances of getting an upgrade when next I fly. But such a bold move carries with it the risk that I might actually receive one of these honours on merit (if not by clerical error) and be stuck with ‘Sir Sir Stuart’. Granted, Boutrous Boutrous-Ghali got away with it but, as pop group Duran Duran proved, having a built-in stutter for a name makes you look like an idiot. But just like ‘Major Major’ in Joseph Heller’s masterpiece Catch-22, I’ll get over it.
It also means that the Rogers and Hammerstein musical ‘South Pacific’ can now be performed in full and exactly as the authors intended. For too long, the musical centrepiece of the show has been mutilated to reflect prevailing cultural standards. I look forward to hearing ‘There Is Nothing Like A Dame’ in all its full-throated glory. No one could dispute that it’s far more catchy and enjoyable than the politically correct version: ‘There Is Nothing Like an Order of Australia Bestowed for Services to the Community’. If nothing else, it ruins the rhythm of the thing entirely.
The song, ‘Knights In White Satin’ by the Moody Blues will finally mean something, to say nothing of Cole Porter’s ‘Knight and Day’. Turns of phrase that are an indelible part of our cultural make up – like ‘white knight’, ‘knight in shining armour’ and, most crucially of all, ‘Knight Rider’ – can be restored as freely used as part of the national lexicon. It will boost the fortunes of the chain maille industry almost overnight. Forget Parliament House – our nation’s leaders will congregate at a venue more fitting: Kryal Castle.
I realise that not everyone feels the way I do. Some have cruelly labelled it a ‘retrograde’ step without pausing to think of the benefits. It’s clear that these honours will only be given out to the truly exceptional and not, as was the case in Queensland throughout the seventies, given away free with boxes of Cocoa Pops. This is, of course, a two edged sword, much like the one her Majesty will use to confer the honour itself. I quite like the idea that anyone has a shot of qualifying. Just as our Olympic team should be selected through a barrel draw, so too should knighthoods.
Some people think it cruels any chance of ever becoming a republic but those people are flat-out wrong. My favourite knight isn’t Australian or even British – he’s American. Kennedys and Kardashians aside, they don’t even have a royal family. Sir Mix-A-Lot was, presumably, knighted for his services to rap music and, possibly, body image. Granted, not everyone appreciates the sentiments expressed in his song, ‘Baby’s Got Back’, but I tend to defer to medical experts, like Dr Dre, on such things. Given his status as a knight of the realm, it is only appropriate that any ceremony to confer a knighthood be supplied with a soundtrack from Mix-A-Lot.
It’s ironic, of course (and I’m not just talking about the armour). Those people who want to avoid the return to knighthoods as part of our honour system now have the perfect excuse to isolate themselves by building a moat. Normally, I’d write these articles at my desk, seated behind a computer. Not today. To mark the return to sanity that is the reintroduction of knighthoods, I am writing this whilst sitting astride my mighty stead, who I have named ‘Sir Hoofalot’ and am using the finest quill in my collection. Having attached this epistle to the nearest pigeon, I shall await news from the Kingdom. It’s late now, and I should probably get off my horse and get some sleep. So let me say to republican and monarchist, peer and commoner, nobleman and serf alike: good knight to you all.