THE standard of debate in Charlie Chuckle’s Laughter Factory is more akin to that of a playground than a political chamber, with infantile insults being bandied across the floor of the House.

The cutting jibe has long been a respected tool of politicians the free-speaking world over, yet the art of being studiously rude to each other is an eloquent skill which no Jersey politician has managed to master to great effect. Unlike political debating chambers the world over, there are few laughs from the public gallery or fellow Members when the Factory is in session.

Far from being the adjudicator of the chamber, the role of the Bailiff is now that of a primary teacher endeavouring to calm squabbling children embroiled in tedious arguments about who said what to whom and who is supposed to have done what.

Of greater concern to the reputation of our political system and this Island – whatever the many faults and inequalities that do need remedying – is the inappropriate and unsavoury behaviour of certain Members in e-mail correspondence. However, the worst activity of them all is that conducted by Senator Stuart Syvret on his blog.

What exactly is a blog? In simple terms it is a website which serves a multitude of purposes. A blog can be a personal internet diary where visitors are invited to comment and enter into dialogue with others. Blogs also provide commentary, are used by politicians as a soapbox and as vehicles for dispensing news on particular subjects. Apparently, everyone has one, from D-list celebrities to world leaders and sports stars to the greatest scientific minds.

I find blogs a bit of a bore at the best of times – why would anyone want to share their most intimate details with the computer literate population of the world? It all smacks too much of voyeurism and navel contemplating for my liking.

In this day and age when computers dominate our lives and the working day is spent no more than an arm’s length from a flat screen, life is too short to spend hours tickling the keys of a keyboard when there are myriad ways in which to waste time and without hurting innocent people.

Moreover, the wee hours are supposed to be spent in slumber, not blogging ad infinitum, spewing forth the boring minutiae of everyday life or vitriolic outbursts that are best kept within close circles rather than broadcast across continents.
At their most dangerous, bloggers put into the public realm information that has not, or cannot be, corroborated and, to all intents and purposes, is nothing more than hearsay, gossip or tittle-tattle.

More alarmingly, accusations are made and people are named, with no opportunity to reply, and as we all know when thrown in copious amounts, mud tends to stick. A blog in the wrong hands becomes a tool for bullies.

We live in a society where the basis of the judicial system is that people are innocent until proven guilty, and their peers judge those accused of misdemeanors in the appropriate manner. It is a system that works and one that has underpinned the democratic system. With rare exceptions, society, politicians and the media have respected it.

Then along came the blog. It is not for a blogger to act as judge and jury and pass judgment on those who are not able to defend themselves. Unlike most parliamentary systems, Jersey lacks a code of conduct and sanctions to ensure that its elected representatives understand that political office, funded from the public purse, comes with responsibilities and expected standards of behaviour.

The falling standards of the Laughter Factory’s current shift has led the Renaissance Deputy, Phil Rondel, to lodge a proposal to persuade his peers to adopt a strict and enforceable code of conduct with severe sanctions for those who do not toe the line.

Not before time, but not to the extent where acceptable put-downs and political humour are stifled. The average States debate is banal enough without removing for ever the expectation of episodes of light relief.

The success of drafting a successful political code of conduct lies in giving considered thought to the principle of what is a decent insult and how it can be carried off without crossing the line. Not forgetting enabling the deliverer to withdraw his or her comments in an appropriate manner to placate the recipient’s pride while also entertaining the public.

The list of politicians famed for their cutting, witty insults is long and illustrious. Top of the pile has to be Winston Churchill’s classic exchange with Bessie Braddock MP, who said: ‘Winston, you’re drunk.’ To which he retorted: ‘Indeed, Madam, and you are ugly, but tomorrow I’ll be sober!’

Labour’s Denis Healey was also a master of dispatch box exchanges. His comparison of a verbal assault from his Conservative front-bench opponent Geoffrey Howe, to ‘being savaged by a dead sheep’ has gone down in the annals of acceptable and humorous insults. Both Churchill’s and Healey’s put-downs are in a different league from advising a fellow Member to ‘top himself.’

The best code of conduct must allow for such frivolity, as it is part of parcel of political debate. Other gems are:
• Italian statesman Romano Prodi on his country’s Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi: ‘The Prime Minister clings to data the way a drunkard clings to lampposts.’
• Benjamin Disraeli on William Gladstone: ‘He has not a single redeeming defect.’
• Ex-Australian leader Paul Keating on the attempted comeback by rival Andrew Peacock: ‘Can a soufflé rise twice?’
•  Lyndon Johnson on Gerald Ford: ‘He’s a nice guy, but he played too much football with his helmet off.’

Such put-downs are acceptable insults because they are delivered with humour, not malice. They may dent pride but do not inflict harm because they do not breach the acceptable code of political conduct.

‘Sticks and stones,’ as the saying goes, ‘may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.’ Unfortunately, when inflicted from certain sources, words can and do hurt and that is not acceptable political behaviour.