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"The Premier has been impressed by the quality of leadership that the Air Vice Marshall has shown..."
At this point the room was plunged into darkness, and the microphone went dead. Had somebody pulled the plug on me? Just as I had started to say something, my speech had been cruelly cut off.
After a few seconds I noticed a faint glow on a distant wall and a recorded voice began to recite the ode to those fallen in war, "They shall not grow old as we who are left shall grow old..."
It was the custom in the club to recite this ode at 9pm each night, while facing an illuminated shrine.
It may have been a coincidence that I was called to the microphone just before the ode was due to begin, or it may have been deliberate. Anyway, I decided that discretion was the better part of valour, and sat down. I did not attempt to finish my speech when the lights came on, and slipped away from the club as quickly as possible.
Douglas Darby accosted me in the lobby of Parliament House one day. With him was a young Chinese man whom he introduced as an "exchange student from Taiwan." Darby was in an effusive mood, loudly greeting the Premier and several ministers as they walked past.
He grasped my arm, stood very close and peered into my face with dark, slightly manic eyes.