RANDOM SHOTS

Auckland Star, Volume LXII, Issue 85, 11 April 1931, Page 2 (Supplement)

RANDOM SHOTS

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Chicago florists sold sixteen million dollars worth of flowers in one year. Yes, Chicago has cemeteries. A Nelson hopper has picked 113 bushels of hops in a week. Few kangaroos cau hop like that. May the New Zealand cricket team in the Old Country never make a duck, although it has "a Swan. A gentleman recently knocked at the door of a hotel under the impression the hotel was- a police station. Fortunately he found hops within. Two Chicago girls with revolvers bailed a citizen up and relieved him of his wad. Girls have never yet been frightened to face-powder. King Alfonso of Spain on Maundy Monday kissed the feet of thirteen beggars. The cable news says that they were washed and disinfected. The sufferings of the poor are frightful. Parrots may now be admitted into the Dominion under certain restrictions. There is nothing to prevent ardent ornithologists now from having an increased number in Parliament. Dr. Millikin, the noted scientist, says that there is every possibility of the earth going on for another two billion years. There is plenty of time for the Government to keep it steadily in view. Whitebait spawning grounds have been located in the Waikato River. Mr. Zane Grey, Mr. Alma Baker, several admirals, generals, and other big game anglers are hereby notified. A trained orator has lately said that nothing is so pathetic as a middle-aged man trying to make a speech—and can't. But it is hardly as pathetic as a prized member of the I-have-no-hesita-tion brigade rising to talk —cant. Sir Thomas Wilford tells us that nine million New Zealand lambs passed through Smithfield last year. And now a man -writes to say that he knows a real New 21 ealander who stayed in New Zealand and had real New Zealand lamb for dinner.

So exceedingly strong was the great Wellington gaol recently destroyed that the bricks had to be divorced from the mortar with dynamite. Couldn't the Government keep a few samples of that mortar for distribution to -builders in earthquake areas? The other evening two friends went to see an all-talkie. A 100 per cent American put over a song full of nasal charm, already known in Auckland per gramophone. One of the men burst into a storm of applause. It was, as he explained, perfectly safe, because the singer couldn't give an encore. The Fisheries Department has finished its researches into the life and habits of the common cormorant, or shag. It is deliberately of the opinion that the shag is a fish eater. The Agriculture Department, one understands, is at present engaged in profound studies to decide whether grass is green or verdant. A swordfish, 4181b, with a large hook in its gullet, recently gave "a splendid display" for an hour and a half. A piper fisherman (1821b in his fishing clothes), with a small hook in his forefinger, gave a magnificent display lasting even longer. The poetic justice of sport. In small literary controversy at Home it has been stated that a Canadian wrote Thomas Bracken's "Not Understood." Bacon, if you remember, wrote Shakespeare's "Midsummer Night's Dream." Apropos of the first-named verse few New Zealanders knew it was a loola until the late Mel. B. Spurr said it to music. Although the weather in Auckland on a recent day was quite hot a number of ladies wore heavy furs in anticipation of July. One lady in a splendid musquash buiiny passed two men. One man said, "Doesn't it seem a shame to skin a poor thing for that?" And the other replied dreamily, "Yes, personally I do feel sorry for her husband." He arrested the progress of Zamiel in the middle of Empress Square (that glorious open space in the centre of the city of Oakland). His brow was dark. "How's a' wi'ye?" asked the scribe. "Rotten!" he said. 'Why, what's up?" "Nothing to do!" he glowered. 'Not out of work I hope?" pursued the scribe, a sympathetic expression stealing across his countenance and his right hand s«Arehing uselessly in a pocket. "Not a stroke," groaned the friend. "I am sorry," said Zamiel. "Yes! I'm just retired on superannuation," hissed the ex-Govern-ment servant. Life is very poignant.

FROM OVERSEAS. New Zealand, which admires the bleed, really ought to hear this one: — "Aint that cow got a lovely coat," Tom ?" "Yes, it's a Jersey." "Jersey! 1 thought it was his skin" A-CHEERING US UP. "The Premier, the Rt. Hon. George Forbes, lias accepted the office of patron of Auckland's 'Cheer-up Week'."—News item. HoXV doth our busy little George Delight to cheer ns up, As nil our profits we disgorge To fill the Treas'ry cup. With what a. cheerful, cheerful grin We patronise the post. Dear George is on a cert to win The cash we treasure most. Oh ! How we yearn to pny him twice The ordinary fee. But George maintains it's very nicc, And suits him to a T. How doth the dainty telegram Delight us not at all, As we emit a fervent—ahem, And pay our bob at call. Oh! How we jump and shout with glee To pay our income tax. But he has said it's got to be (One of his little knacks). And liow we're all convulsed with mirth To pap his tariff dues, And hand out our iast sou on earth To pay for hats and shoes. And how with joyous beams we greet That welcome quarter day. And rush with never-lagging feet That sev'n-an'-six to pay. How doth each busy counter clerk Behold each joyous face, As all their eager levy park And give another place. If George comes cheo/ing us much more, With all these ohetviol things, He'll find lis through the tax-free door A flapping las-free wings. —Ella Basteu.