PARISIANS.

Auckland Star, Volume LIX, Issue 255, 27 October 1928, Page 7 (Supplement)

PARISIANS.

A THEATRE COMEDY.

TO CORRECT UNPUNCTUALITY.

The fatal unpunctuality of Parisians is, alas, proverbial, especially where theatre-going is concerned. They arrive at the playhouse late, with the result that the curtain rises long after the appointed hour, to fall for the last time perhaps twenty minute* past the customary five minutes to midnight. And, what is even worse, toes are trampled on, and knees rudely knocked, by illmannered persons, who, reaching the theatre after the performance has begun, insist upon making a bee-line for their scats. Inconsiderate bounders.

The management of a boulevard establishment has taken steps to put an end to the abuse. Recently, a prominently displayed notice informed late comer.4 that all who arrived after the curtain had risen on the first act would have to wait patiently tijl it descended before they could expect to gain admittance to the auditorium. At least 60 persons, with tickets for. the stalls and two balconies, put in a leisurely appearance at B.4o—instead •of well before 8.30. Amongst those who swore, fumed, gesticulated, shook their fists, wept and raved were two ministers, a duchess, a noted female music-hall performer, five retired generals, .the owner of an important newspaper, a bishop, a famous contortionist, an immensely fat depute and the most perfectly formed of all the many artists' models whose painted and sculptured charms . may . some day enchant posterity. A few, haying dined well, took the situation good-liumour-edly; others, considering themselves aggrieved, complained of "tyrannical management." Tlie rest, 25 odd, having vainly applied for a refund, went to law, and were informed by a heartless (and punctual) judge \liat they had only themselves to blame ... "Mend y-jur ways," advised the upholder of justice. Since this interference with the liberty of the subject one short week ago, punctuality has been observed by theatregoers. "Will it last ?" you may ask . . . No! The " Parrot Lady " Reappears. For several years an elderly American lady, a parrot dexterously perched on her shoulder, has appeared, at intervals, on the Grands Boulevards. After 6ome months' absence, she is once more to be seen, but with another bird, Coco having succumbed—at a ripe age—to a surfeit of sugar dipped in rum. Coco, it may be recalled, was a very well conducted pet; beyond occasionally cursing hard in several languages, he never uttered a sound, except to squawk his thanks when given the dainty to which he was so partial. Now, the poor thing, being no more, the lady from the United States has consoled herself with another parrot, a handsome grey creature with a formidable beak and an observant eye. 'Tis named Coco IV., its ownei having buried (and mourned) no fewer than three predecessors. The new acquisition is a noisy and obstreperous brute, so much so that some days ago its proprietor was harshly forbidden to again bring it to the cafe at which she took her afternoon refreshment. Unwisely slipping the light chain from Coco's" leg, the devoted woman invited her treasure (who showed signs of naughty temper), to walk up and down the long terrace. . . "Look prettily at the ladies and gentlemen, and no doubt each will give you something nice," said Madame. The bird, assuming an expression which personified greed, hopped from one table to another, receiving some twenty fragments of sugar.-These, however, soon had a disastrous effect upon Coco, the gourmand, for the waggish donors had impregnated with liqueur, esch gift Returning to his fond mistress, the parrot was lifted on to the customary perch, soon to fall, the maintaining of the necessary equilibrium having become impossible. Unfortunately, he fell on to the adjacent table, upsetting a glass of blood-red syrup, a cup of scalding-hot coffee and an enormous glass of beer on the fawncoloured pantaloons of a hasty Frenchman.. The last-named, misled by everyone's laughter,- angrily declared that the parrot's owner had deliberately planned the outrage. . . "You are a true daughter of your odious country!" was his ungallant comment. Meanwhile, the inseparable couple take the air elsewhere. They disport themselves in the leafy spaces of the Bois.

Profitable Hospitality.

, The "surprise party," to which, it is understood, the dancing guests will contribute food and drink, has long been a recognised festivity in Paris. The hostess provides a "tapeuse," as the pianist is known, biscuits, tartlets (of a highly seductive nature), and iced lemonade or orangeade. But those who have been invited are expected to bring with them really important offerings.

This season a number of ladies bent on turning an occasion to account are, in their capacity of hostess, making a snug little sum out of the "surprise party"—and without having ,to pay a sou in the way of entertainment tax. Invitation cards, in addition to informing the recipients that everything, from a case of champagne to a bag of-bis-cuits, would be welcome, calmly mentioned that each dancer must pay a share of the expenses. As the hostesses, together with their husbands and families, probably lived for several days on what remained over from the sumptuous feast, they cannot have done too badly out of their far-seeing hospitality. An economy, in fact.

A Scotsman, who found j himself invited to one of these entertainments brought with him a bottle of whisky. "Ton's verra guid," quoth Sandy. "It's auld, and it .cbst 'a' muckle heap of bawbees. A' got it in a' present. That's why a'm gie'n it tae-ye." Upon the Scot's vernacular remarks being translated all clapped their hands, imagining that the "Scotch wine" must be something as precious as Napoleon brandy.' Sandy, however, was the only person who liked it, his appreciation being so deep that it was found necessary, to bundle him into ; a taxi quite early in the evening.