THE PASSING SHOW.

Auckland Star, Volume LXVIII, Issue 300, 18 December 1937, Page 8

THE PASSING SHOW.

(By THE MEN ABOUT TOWN.) "Well, what's the latest from China? Any more bombings to-day?" asked an Aucklander of an old soldier acquaintance as they walked towards town together. SELF-SACRIFICE. "No," replied Bill, "but I see there's a suggestion that this Japanese officer bloke who bombed the tankers might commit keri-keri." What would they say about this in the Winter less North ? —Bouverie. A school headmistress blames wireless for a type of mind which seems common among children to-day. It appears that many children grow up with a backPERMANENT ground of noise and by WAVES, way of self-protection they simply close that part of their brain which listens attentively. Personally I have often wanted to close all parts of mv brain during certain wireless renderings, and I have not yet decided which j6 really worse—static or crooning. A Wellington friend of mine has come to light with a pood one regarding atmospheric interference. His grandmother had purchased her first wireless set, and, like all "first setters," craved to tune in to Russia, Tibet or some such outlandish place. Eventually she succeeded in petting an English station and proudly announced the fact to her grandson Listening intently, he was able to distinguish only an occasional word amid the fiendish noise which threatened to shatter the radio cabinet. Politely he explained to granny that the din was due to "surge." "Oh. it can't possibly be the sea, my dear," said she, "because this is an all-wave set.'"—B.C.H. Is the gramophone disappearing? Observations made in friends' homes seem to indicate that it is. Despite the arguments of gramophone salesmen that "vou NEW EACH can choose vour own SEASON. music when you have a gramophone." despite the fact that gra lophone records sell as well as ever they did. despite the restriction against broadcasting imposed by many companies manufacturing records, despite all these thinps. it is maintained that the gramophone is losing its former favour. Even the yachtsmen, champions of the gramophone, are turning envious eyes toward the launchmon's radio sets, and those with a few dinahs to jincle are making inquiries about prices and installations and spaces. Which dissertation leads to the tale of one of the yachts that still possesses a gramophone. I.ast week-end the crew was only too pleased to welcome a dingliyful of visitors, with the specification that they should bring a new gramophone needle with them. "'Sou know." said the skipper, "we've had more trouble than enough with our needle this season. Here's only two months pone and we've lost three already." He held up the new Tieedle broupht bv the visitors, pushed it into its gap. and set tlie Harlem Hottentots poinp in their latest "swinp"' montrosity. "We had a cow of a thinp last season. But. brother, believe me, the needle we had the year before that was a beauty! A regular snitcher!"— Albus.

I Another tale—another true one, too—of a cheeky shop thief, one every hit up to the standard of the two who nearlv co«t our friend, mentioned the BAREFACED. other day, lm job as & constable. Lots of people, passing up Queen Street ore evening a few years ago, saw a yoiin*r man in shirt eleeves busy in a jeweller's window, whence he was removing some of the most valuable trave. So one, including the policeman on the beat, took much notice, except one business man. who happened to be a friend of the owner of the chop. A little way further tip the street he met the latter ji»t going into a picture theatre. "Hullo, So-and-so," he said. \on ve started stocktaking earlv this Tear, haven t you?" "Xo. we don't stocktake for another couple of months," replied the puzzled jeweller. "What makes you think that?" The other said that he had jnst noticed one of the jewellers employees working overtime cleaning out the window. "He's no employee of mine." *«]uealed the panic-stricken jeweller. "Police! Ihioves! Burglars! Get a policeman!" Yelling the war cry as he sprinted down the street, the jeweller had half the rity s constalmlary to support him when he reached the shop, where the business-like younir man in his shirt sleeves was still occupied with the stock in the window. Seeing that the game was up." his line of retreat, bv wav of the sk\light, through which he had entered, being cut off. he gracefully surrendered and was marched away to the cells, while the imitated jeweller was taken home and put to bed with a strong sedative.—l.M.

The sight of a model yacht in an Auckland shop window reminded nie of an incident connected with last year's Yuletidc. Little Willie aw °ke on Christmas CONFESSION. morning to find himself the owner of a reallv excellent model. The handiwork of an exsailor. the yacht was little short of perfection. Father and hie; next-door neighbour lost no time in hurrying Willie and his boat to the beach, where an official launching took place. Standing chest deep in the sea. father and his friend sailed the boat backwards and forwards while its diminutive owner gazed from the r-lioie. As usual, the adults became more and more fascinated with their craft, while Willie instinctively realising the hopelessness of exerting his proprietary rights. reverted to the making of sand castles. Believe it or not but those two men played with their tov for the rest of the summer, eventually wrecking it. I may add that I still have the hull, and some day it will appear (like the tramwavinen) in a completely novel rig.—B.C.H.

This actually happened at one of the Auckland beaches last Sunday. There were the usual crowd of picnickers, you know the THF rnKTian If"* 1 *' ho /™ er P* from the THE DINING buses and make a wild TABLE, dash for the most sheltered places under the frees At some beaches there are somewhat rudely-erected tables, but at other beaches such amenities are not present and picnickers when dining time arrives spread tablecloths on the ground and make the best of a bad job. Last Sunday a chap who happens to own a flat-bottomed punt, which is not verv big and w kept on shore, thought he would take his two kiddies out for an hour or so on the briny. With the paddles and rowlocks he tripped down to the beach, but there was no punt where it should have been He searched everywhere within reasonable distance on land and catst his eyes across the water but nary a sipn of the flat-bottom. He was feeling anything but pleased when a voice called out. Are you looking for vour boat v When he remarked that the speaker had picked it in one. the man with the voice lifted up the end of a tablecloth and said with a grin. "Here it is."' And there it was all rMit" It had been carried to a cool spot under'a tree, turned upside down, and used as a table. \t one end father was busy carving the Sundav joint. there were bowls' of hlane man«:e and salad, plates of bread, with tomatoes and odd fruits rolling here and there. "We won't be long," said the man at the head of the tablo. "\ou can have the punt in half a« hour." So the owner waited—for the boat, »»t on tablo. —Johnny.