The democratic Swiss propose to give their women the right to cash-payments from their husbands for staying home as housewives.
The money would be in addition to housekeeping expenses and would have to be the same as the husband had for his own pleasures.
This news has been processed in a less hilly and less chilly canton on the other side of the world and has caused much financial frenzy and fiscal effrontery.
I don’t mind having to come home to face the music but now I have to listen to the sound of it. I arrived this week to a spirited rendition of “Climb Every Mountain” and I knew immediately the monetary situation had reached a new peak.
My wife said: “The Swiss are shrewd and progressive people. They believe in equality. Payment of wives is rational and overdue. I’ll take mine in notes.”
She held out her hand for her Swiss roll. She got it but it made her fingers sticky,
My daughter tried a different approach. Wearing old spinach loosely disguised as edelweiss and answering to the name of Heidi, she flung me a Julie Andrews flash of her fine but covetous eyes and said: “You have been to St Moritz before, mein herr. Tip please.”
But I shrugged off this blatant commercialism, screwed up my eyes at the imaginary mountains and said: “Vot is dis, fraulein, you think I come down in the last avalanche.”
She retired to consult with my wife: “He’s not so much a gnome of Zurich as a midget of Munno Para.”
I gave a close, secretive smile. It’s my contention the Swiss men have panicked because their accusing wives have just sat staring at them. And you know how closely a Swiss watches.
But you can see I’m on the border of hysteria myself.”
I’m not against it in principle. It’s just the Interest. As for her getting the same amount as I spend on my pleasures, I have prided myself on my skill at concealment.
Certainly my wife questioned me about the entry “Winter sports at Victoria Park.”
She said: “But it’s nearly summer.”
I said: “For me, it’s always winter at Victoria Park.”
Returning to the Swiss Idiom, however, there are several recreations we can share such as roping ourselves together to climb the mortgage, then sitting around on our frozen assets waiting for that big dog with the brandy to give us a small nip.
Yet now my family has become more violent. Last night they seized me, took my wallet and tied my hands and legs to the chair, explaining that I was bound by the Geneva Convention.
Now they are economising in other ways. No longer do we have the expensive cuisine of the finest Swiss resorts with sheiks and beautiful double spies at the next table.
We have just a wisp of onion and a sea of lettuce leaves. Ah me. How green was my chalet!
Max Fatchen