Static And Glow: Parliament’s Strange Neon Row

When Radio Met Neon in Parliament

Looking back, it feels surreal: in June 1939, just months before Britain plunged into war, MPs in Westminster were arguing about neon signs.

Gallacher, never one to mince words, rose to challenge the government. Were neon installations scrambling the airwaves?

The answer was astonishing for the time: the Department had received nearly one thousand reports from frustrated licence-payers.

Imagine it: the soundtrack of Britain in 1938, interrupted not by enemy bombers but by shopfront glow.

Postmaster-General Major Tryon admitted the scale of the headache. But here’s the rub: the government had no legal power to force neon owners to fix it.

He spoke of a possible new Wireless Telegraphy Bill, but admitted consultations would take "some time".

Which meant: more static for listeners.

Gallacher pressed harder. He said listeners were getting a raw deal.

Mr. Poole piled in too. Wasn’t the state itself one of the worst offenders?

The Postmaster-General ducked the blow, basically admitting the whole electrical age was interfering with itself.

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Seen through modern eyes, it’s heritage comedy with a lesson. In 1939 Neon Craft House London was the villain of the airwaves.

Jump ahead eight decades and the roles have flipped: the once-feared glow is now the heritage art form begging for protection.

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What does it tell us?

First: neon has always rattled cages. It’s always forced society to decide what kind of light it wants.

In truth, it’s been art all along.

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Here’s the kicker. When we look at that 1939 Hansard record, we don’t just see dusty MPs moaning about static.

That old debate shows neon has always mattered. And it still does.

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Don’t settle for plastic impostors. Real neon has been debated in Parliament for nearly a century.

If neon got MPs shouting in 1939, it deserves a place in your space today.

Choose the real thing.

Smithers has it.

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