THE PASSING SHOW.

Auckland Star, Volume LXIX, Issue 136, 11 June 1938, Page 8

THE PASSING SHOW.

(By THE MEN ABOUT TOWN.)

Mixed metaphors are constantly cropping up. Mr. Ormsby-Gore in the Houee of Commons declared: '"The Socialist party is flogging a dead horfe, MIXED which w never going tn METAPHORS, win a rate in this country." An archdeacon has recently said that '"if'we fail to support our echonle" we shall rind ourselves landed in a sea without shore*.." A Parliamentary speaker faid that 'the pale fa«-e of the British soldier was the backbone of the British Army." More amusing than mixed metaphors are the frank absurdities of Colonel Wed-yvvood, who, addressing the lloii*e of Commons, «aid: "Parent*, Mr. Speaker, parents who are fortunate enough to have children." A Southern journal in an expression of editorial sympathy, referred to two women who had lost their huebands as "one a widow and the other the mother of three young children." —Touchstone.

A friend of mine decided (o vi-it .1 certain «.ick man a. few days ago. The man was not ill, but was confined to his bed in an abortive attempt to cure a heavy FRISKING cold. My friend happened THE WHISK, to mention the proposed errand of mercy to a certain hotel proprietor. "I'm *orry to hear that old George is in bed," *aid the benevolent, publican. "AVill you take him something from me? ,, A bottl* of whisky and half a dozen lemons were duly wrapped up. f"»n far. #.o good, but yesterday that donor of whisky and lemon* received a note from the patient thanking him profusely for the lemon*. The fact that the whisky was not mentioned created a grave suspicion in the mind of the benevolent one, but the fact that my friend has not been near the pub <-ince has converted that suspicion into etark certainly. When the patient hear* about it his temper will be les.« controlled than any Xew Zealand fruit.—B.C.H.

''Go Xorth, young man." if ymi arn looking for mrprißes. I wae loolliiig along on my push bike, about ten miles from the railway and four or live THOSE from a tiny «sett lenient EX MOSQUITOES, which rejoices in the glorious name <;iorif, when T met Rip van Winkle, tlie Second, [wo bright blue eyes twinkled beneath bu»hy brown and the lower parts of his visage were hidden beneath a fuzzy growth of moustache and whiskers. He wa* exhibit A in my •shavedaily" campaign for farmers, and I simply had to dismount and talk to him. Down in the forest something stirred, and he wa« heard to reniark. "Ridin' a push bike, eh?" To thin brilliant effort I replied, ".''o: I'm in a motor oar. puehing the trike from .■ehind." Tbi.i was "askin' for it." and Rip van \V. soon got his own back. With diabolical dialectical dexterity (any good!) he led the conversation to the subject of mosquitoes and informed me that he had discovered an absolutely certain method of outwitting the little pests. (They would never have been able to reach his face, but I considered it more discreet to refrain from mentioning this fact, so went on listening.) '"They're very bad up "ere. in the summer." he said, 'but I got "em well beat this rear. T 'ad a new mosquito net. but there must 'ave been a small 'ole in it. Vos T was woke up with one stinsrin' me. on the 'and. So wot d'ye tbink I done? T waited till Die last one '.id come in an' then I mended the 'ole. an' crawled out from under the curtain an' went to sleep on the floor." Somewhat dizzily I remounted and rode on. and I'll xvvear I heard the. old villain cackle behind his rhevaux dcfri*e.—Bouverie.

In New Orleans on July S. lfißO. tbere -na« only one. topie of conversation that day, "Who would win the. championship?" With the championship went 20,000 THE FANCY. dollars (a fortune for a

lighter fifty years ago) and the 'Tnlire •Jazettc' , Belt, a thing of beauty oontaininr: 200 ounces of silver and gold. Thi> wa« to be the la*< of the old-time bare-knufkle c-onteett*. and when its seventyJive terrific rounds had been fought and Jolin L. Sullivan had knocked Kilrain about as he pleased, the last dying jrasp of the old prize ring, The. Fancy, wa* hoard in that twenty-four-foot ring, with its bloodstained pa toll of turf. And. maybe, just as well. For over two centurie* the prize ring *ati*fipd all onlookers. Since James Tigp. "the father of the British prize ring," defeated Ned Sntton on a beautiful June morning (way back in 1727) in six rounds, and thus won the first modern prize fight, ttio brutalizing spectacle of the old-time bare-knuckle contest drew its crowds, provided an outlet for tie gilded youth of the period to gamble away fortune*, and proved a sorry reflection on the so-called civilisation of England. In spite of the foregoing remarks, never has any other nation exhibited such proof of dauntless courage and tru« sportsmanship a« Old EmrLind <lid through its long lwt of champion*. For weli century and a half, from Figg"« championship fight with Ned Sutton (in 1727) to the Sullivan-Kilrain "go" at New Orleans in ISSo! men fought for trifling purges to mako sport for t!>e mob and gate money for promnter*. till, battered and helpless. * they and fell. Who bus not. heard of" the doughty doings of the eccentric Bendigo, who gave hi* name to the richest poklfiekLT in the world, and to one of the fastest raeehon-e* that ever ran? Of Mendoza. Boleher and Tom C'ribb? The epnv of The Fancy would fill a dozen volumes. Molyneanx ami Cribh! Jem Burke (The Deaf 'Vi\) ;ind Bendiro!-— the very names of these men *pt the old with the cauliflower ears talking for a week. '"They don't grow 'em like that now." , N"o, and itV .just as well—for ilwm and us—to be spare<l tho*e one-hundre<l round bloodthirsty eiicounters. Truly there were giants in the land in tho*e day*, and t.nt the of those giants were Tom Saver*. Jem Mao-, the Tipton Slasher, Ben C'annt. Tom Spring. Joe Go** and Heenan. And now? They're ju>t names to the modern youngster—but what names they were, and arc, to us oldster*:— MurClurc.

BULL-DOZER 808. Oil, lio;ir tho voice of Hobert as he socks to justify The energetic way he makes the dirt (anil money) fly: "Come, seo the \v:iv I'm peppjnc up New Zealand's PubHo Works. And dealing with the scrounger in the hfdeout where n? lurks. The old time-worn wheelbarrow has experienced my thrust When with a tractor's heavy wheel I cmund it in the dus»t. I build a. lot of railway linos, through country steep or flat — If no one ever up«s them, who cares a darn The rails m.iv rust, the sleepers r (l t h.it that's O.K. with m«=' — " They'll he a dandy monument to mv en-n cnercy. Gone arc the days whm nir-n relied on nhovpls and on ppadesWe swftlv nhift the landscape nt.w willi Diesel-driven aid? " " * M m°a r i>l a s n a d y ß l—' O, ' " ,C " laP - 1 " l ' imn «* «'•* My C£^ n!NoW Bob ' f«r in, a ° h - Si?;'r'e^r!!l nC <o admlt "«t Mr. Effl^hS! C,lnS Is^-B^^

THOUGHTS FOR TO-DAY. Honour and f-hanic from nn condition ri>.' Act well your part, there all the honour li'ne —Pope. And seeke»t thou -.-reat things for thvtclf: Seek them not.—Jeremiah.