THE PASSING SHOW.

Auckland Star, Volume LXIX, Issue 296, 15 December 1938, Page 8

THE PASSING SHOW.

(By THE MEN ABOUT TOWN.) It was safety week and the sergeant was show ing tlip new const a blp his bpat. ' \ our main job will be to see that cars parked on tin* Bmli* of the <*tr<M»t 111 HIS BEAT. your beat do not exceed tlie limp limit allowed." said the sergeant. "Your l>eat starts here and ends at that. 1 p<l light up the road." Jt was just on midnight when the new constable staggered into the ollicP and dropped into a chair. "What's the matter?" asked the sergeant. '•Nothing." said the new cop. "except that the red light you showed me was on Hie back of a ear and went to Manurewa." — Johnny. I think it was Dan lamh. who said in a stage comment upon eggs. "There are three sorts of eggs —fresh eggs, stale eggs and eggs." The bloke who was OVA THE ODDS, straphnnging in a tram the other night was nursing a dozen of these things. Ihe categoi \ into which his parcel entered is of no moment, for the clock had chimed six pip einma shortly before he ltoarded the tram, and the bearer of the ova was not concerned with Dan I.en > |or anyone else. Unfortunately the tram, in making a sudden turn into Wclleslcy Street, caused the gentleman in question to lose his "rip upon the delicate parcel. Ihe result wa> indeed unfortunate, for a perfectly respectable citizen received the lot ill his immaculate lap. A dozen broken eggs—or even half a dozen of same, in one's lap is not conducive to friendly conversation with the dropper. Henco there followed. "Von dirty beast! ' "Dirtj hie—am I? Well —hie —have a look at yourself!"—B.C.H. Even the Imsy business man must have a shave —that will be admitted by all. barring, perhaps. Brother Jonathan. And if the said business man. owing to THE "TOUCH." one circumstance or another. hasn't had time to apply the domestic razor to his crop of "spinach"' —well, some local Imrber benefits. Those two points have no liearing on the case in question, but are mentioned just in case anyone wishes to raise the issue. Now Mr. Smythe is the case in point, and we will give him a "y" because that looks better in print. He retired from the hurly-burly the other morning to seek the soothing atmosphere and attention of his barber, but—being a conscientious business man—he left a message at his office that if he was wanted urgently he could Ik? got. at a nearby saloon (barber's, of course). The scene shifts to that place of I peaceful charm, with Mr. Smythe resting sublimely in an atmosphere of hair oil. shaving soap and race gossip. The 'phone rings. Mr. Smythe is wanted urgently. . . . Man is waiting to see him. Mr. Smythe rushes through the final stages, hurries back to hi« office, and finds there a. man whom he hail known slightly in the distant past. Greetings were exchanged, and then came the inquiry regarding the rcn i for the visit. Hems and haws, ers and stutters, and then: "Could you lend me lialf-a-dollar?" . . . —Eka.

"H.F.D." drops a linp asking me if T have written to any relations in England asking them to come to New Zealand, and points out that ht> ho|)es I mentioned A RELATIVE that houses with large ABROAD. and airy bod too inn oan he had at most reasonable rent-als. He also hopes I mentioned the nice padded seats in out- tramcars. and that 1 have advised my relations not to bring all tlieir money with them. Well, now. "H.F.D.." I just don't happen to have any relations in England, but it wasn't always so. Some few years ago a long-distance relative —marriage tied him up with the family—lived in Auckland. He had a wife, two or three kiddies —I forget* the number—and a decent sort of job. A steady chap, he saved a goodly number of "<]uid>»" and decided to go Home. And Homo he went. T being one of the crowd standing 011 the end of Prince's wliarf till the ship disappeared round ihe Xorth Head. In due course letters began to arrive. They were written by bis wife, ami it was clear that, she would much rather have l>eon parading Queen Street than living in an attached cottage in a coalmining district where the family banner was then being flown. "Work was scarce, but father managed to get a job in one of the mines. And then the miners went on strike. My relative decided striking was a foul's game, and turned up at the pit month as u-ual. The strikers pelted him with chunks of coal. He is back in Auckland again, has a. 11 ice home, one of his sons owns a motor car. and. speaking generally, the family is doing very well, thank you. He is the only working relative I have ever had in England. —Johnny. What's in a name? Nothing. .Tnst that. A famous American who gets time to work out such matters informs us that every tnan-about-town has had. sonieJUST NAMES. where about eighty greatgrandparents since the year one A.D.. all bearing his name, theoreti-. rally, on his papa's side. Mother, of course, had another eighty 011 her side. Then her mother had (on her mother's side) darn near the same number, and—but suppose we forget it? Statistics show that most, of 'em drank, anyway, and a lot more were hanged. Others managed to prove an alibi. One man I know who made a fortune out of rat traps -paid me handsomely to trace his family up. Last week he offered me twice as much to hush it up. Half your Scots are Danes. Norwegians, and what Hots. Lean over any Sean<ly bar and say. "It's a liraw. bricht. ninnelicht nicht the nk-ht." and the barman will immediately pour you out a long handle. The whole lingo is pure Yilfingese. In Ireland I met a man named (iiolgach. That was only a gag. His real name was Reade. Some '■'-cholat"" told him Reade meant "reed.'' and "giolgach" is Irish for "reed." Actually the name Reade mean-' "red" —so they made it green. Once Murphv headed the list of Irish names. i>2.000 strong. l)e Valora lixed that. There's only one Murphy there now. He's in the museum. All names can be traced —that's what the police are for. Take We lib and Mason. Those were trade names. Webb used to be a worker—a webber. His folks, way back. drop|K>d the "er." Mason simplv meant a mason once. Now? Semple is a place name. His folks came by it by emigrating to Semple. in Renfrewshire. Probably shifted there 011 Thrift Day. Nash is an easv one to trace. It. also, is a "locality name. Originally it was medieval English— William atte Neshe. that is to say. William at the Ash —the ash tree, not the can. But whv go on? —Maet lure. SWAN SONG. O Mr. Swan and Mrs. Swan Once lived at Takapuna. And Mrs. Swan grew pale and wan. For Mr. was a crooner. Now one day when the wind blew strong A swan flew round the harbour. And Auckland cried: "He's done her wrong! The he-bird's lr-it his arbour." Then everywhere was talked this rot: "He n'ot the bird. Her life is wrecked. He wnt to sli'nv that he is not A man lhaJL can he hen-pecked!" The male swan? Come, don't be absurd! ill bet it was the other. I'll bet it was the female bird flying: home to mother! I —easctEXjo-E. '