THE PASSING SHOW.

Auckland Star, Volume LXIV, Issue 114, 17 May 1933, Page 6

THE PASSING SHOW.

(By THE MAN ABOUT TOWN.) THE GRAFT. ■ American accents are to be "grafted" to i British actors' and actresses' voices in . "talkies" to make them more acceptable to America's Middle West.—News item. Dea- M.A.l , .,— Why not do the thing thoroughly and convert the text as well? For instance, the late Mr. Wordsworth's efforts in , "We Are Seven" could possibly be "grafted .to suit the Middle Wcs-t as follows: — "Ami whom ore they? J pray you tell" Sim raised licl- pretty head. Ami iis sOie changed lior chewing giuu Slie diffidently said : — "The •bulls' go-t brother Bill I guess, l< , rofinontins 'easy pubs., And Abralmm In Sins Sing Uvea And Al at. Wormwood Scrubs. Poor Silas, who was single, but About: to take a bride, Was hustled by some phoney yeggs And 'taken for a ride.: It sun , was touch when Hiram J. And little sistoi- Joan Were liimlH-rcd in a 'roiiseabout Along with Al. Capquc. I guoss you figure this is 'punk Said* she in manner coy, "Cut when -the 'All up' sounds again, Oh. whoopee ! Attaboy ! c The talk was of "getting lost," and, naturally, the Australian cx-biishniiui— now livin"- hero in comparative civilisation —had e . been lost more frequently THE BUSHMAN'S than the others. He ROUND. mentioned that on one occasion, while walking from one. point to another in dense scrub, two obliging birds flew overhead. He didn't want any birds, but he gave them a quick one-two with the gun. With mathematical precision they fell almost at his feet. He left them where they fell and proceeded on Ins way. An hour or so later lie came to a spot where two dead birds lay. They were the birds he had shot and didn't want. He left the birds and walked for an hour again, and came, to a place where 'two dead birds lay. Disdaining this game, lie for the third tinie wandered oil' and returned to the place where two birds had fallen. Naturally by this time the birds were hardly lit to take home — so lie didn't. But he had an even more remarkable experience. He was walking across saltbush country from Dimadamera to Muckakowra—about 15 miles. As he went he could see the dust of the town he fondly believed to bo his destination, in the air—the •willywilly, so to speak. He walked valiantly towards the dust for live hours and a half— only to find himself back in Dimadamera— the township he had left. Honolulu is tlic place to which tired souls go for rest. Hero is a snippet from a Honoluviau who, however, seems restless: "My present financial condiTHIS tion is duo to the effect BROTHERHOOD, of the Federal laws, State laws, county laws, incorporation laws, 'by-laws, brothers-in-law and outlaws that have" been foisted upon an unsuspecting public. Through theso various laws, I have been held down, held up, sat on, walked on, flattened, squeezed and ibroke, until I do not know what I am, where I am or why I am. These, laws compel me. to pay a merchant tax, capital tax, excess tax, real estate tax, incorporation tax, property tax, auto tax, gas tax, light tax, water tax, cigar tax, school tax, syntax, liquor tax and carpet tax. In addition to these taxes, I am requested and required to contribute to every society and organisation that the inventive mind of man can invent and organise; to the Society of St. John the Baptist, the Women's Kelief, Navy I/eaguc, the Children's home, the Policemen's benefit, the Dorcas Society) the Y.M.C.A., the Gold Diggers' Home, also to every hospital and charitable institution in town, the Ked Cross, the Black Cross, the White Cross, the Purple- Cross, the Flaming Cross and the Double Cross." —Shake, brother! Interesting to learn that Adolf Hitler, who appears to be stirring up old rancours in Europe, has been attacked—in Madame Tussaud's waxworks in LIKE WAX. Baker Street—w he re Sherlock Holmes and My Dear Watson used to live. Some time ago Tussaud's had a fire and many celebrities faded away. Since which they have- been done all over again, and many new ones added. No! Hitler is not in the Chamber of Horrors. From the photographed effigy of Adolf it is clear that physically he is not a wonder — especially if his real legs look like the Tussaud specimen. You'll note in the photograph that Adrt>lf Is alongside 'Mussolini, who is much more like a national hero than Adolf is. Interesting to recall that Madame Tussaud, a little French woman, took a few wax effigies to London something less than a century ago, and, by using a large wardrobe, could change a murderer into a king, or a duchess to a dairy maid. - Time passed and public taste demanded likenesses, so that there are few mistakes made, nowadays. Madame's two sons took over the waxwork business when Madame passed. Old-timers remember best of all the policeman who said, "Move on, please!' (per printed label). They will be delighted, to hear that he says it per gramophonic attachment nowadays.

Do you remember reading the story about a hospital dog from "Ripon"—a doctor—the other day herein? Scribe -wrestled with the apparent prescription for THE three or four hours, and HIEROGLYPH. gave it to the world. "Eipon" writes in perfectly plain script, every dot, comma, semicolon and what not in the right places—even the bits of Latin being excellent. "Ripon" explains that the household sealed up the last of the private mail in a. hurry, the medical part having taken a longer period— sending ILA.T. what he calls a- "rough draft." Ha! ha!—his "preparatory scribble," as it were. He admits that he himself could make nothing of the rough draft—done on two bits of post octavo and a visiting card. He missed the waste paper basket; someone conscientiously retrieved the hieroglyphics and the Post Office did the rest. "Ripon" becomes lyric about "Chirugeons, Caligrsphy and Cuneformae." "Give you," says he, "the soiled and weatherbeateii scrap of parchment on which the miser of 1000 meant to make his V'ill, but didn't, and you would straightway read out a succinct description of the hoard, its birthplace and burial place. The Rosetta Stone? Pooh!—five minutes before breakfast. One grieves to think of those fine fellows of the Anglo-American Expedition poring over the cuneiform tablets of Babylon and Kut, when the one man who could decipher 'em with effortless ease sits in far-off New Zealand. But 1 restrain my sobs, and curb my ponderous wit, when I selfishly reflect how manyt of us- obtain a few minutes surcease from the daily .grind from a. genial spirit.

WHO TOLD YOU THAT? "My torn cat brought a rat lioine last niglit." "Nothing remarkable about that, is there?" ' "Yce—he brought the trap home as well." THOUGHTS FOR TO-DAY. Let us no more contend nor blame Each other, blam'd enough elsewhere, but strive In offices of love, (how we may lighten Each other's burden, in our share of woe. —Milton. The soil out of which good men are made is good to be born on, good to live on, good to die; for, and to be buried in. —James Kussell Lowell. . -