THE PASSING ISHOW.

Auckland Star, Volume LXX, Issue 32, 8 February 1939, Page 10

THE PASSING ISHOW.

(By THE MEN ABOUT TOWN.) When it comee to technical jargon I'm not easily stumped. After wide experience of the sea (including one voyage to Stanley Bay), those masterpieces CONDENSATION, of brevity and contraction known as ships' logs are as an open book to me. A line like "F. & C. W'ly It. br. and emooth. Brown's lel. abm. 0.00 a.m. a/co. S.W. x W. I W." is crystal cleaT to me. But now I've met my Waterloo. The gae etove has been surging worse than a ehort-wave programme lately, and in response to a telephoned 5.0.5.. the gasman called (in our absence) and put matters to rights. He left behind him a scribbled note, in full explanation of the trouble. "I found out the trouble. Drip was full of wateT." Exactly. And now what do we do about that? Blame it on to the weather, I e'pose. But why bring that up? —K.L. Where, oh where, are the summers of old? At the rate we are going we will catch up with the South Pole in a few years from now.. and that will be most SUMMER! irritating, for we will have to find a new name for our "Winterlees North" and the totiriste will have to learn about Uβ all over again. New Zealanders are noted as an adaptable race, and they are preparing for the future already by Bwimming in the icy cold harboure and yachting in the teeth of gales, apart from playing cricket in the rain, and hundreds of other reckless deede. "Be Prepared" Is their motto, and by the time this climatic change has taken place they will be able to say, "A little colder this morning, George?" and forget abotit it. As for myself, a cold shower is my limit, and when the time comee I think I will change my address to the south of France — if there ie any south of France by that time. —L.

Residents of the Mount Eden Borough are Tejoicing over the fact that their parks and reserves have been provided with new eeats. The old ones had SEATS. fallen to pieces. One of our dailies, with an unconscious outburst of humour, stated, "There hae been a longstanding need for seats of thiskind." It might, of course, have added, "Aβ many people have a' deep-seated objection to standing." I think it was the same borough which prompted the Press heading on the eve of a municipal election, "Sitting Mayor Standing." Talking of these postures, one ie reminded of the small boy who wae one of many children being entertained by a benevolent London hostess at a charity children's party. As the good lady entered the room the boy wae told by a confrere to "Stand up when a lidy enters a room." The busy hostess was buzzing in and out of the room for some time, and eventually her newly-educated guest became piqued. "Blimey," he eaid to his mate, "anyone would fink she wae the National Anthem."—B.C.H. When a sporting friend of mine informed me exultantly last week that the godwit shooting eeaeon had opened I muttered some facetious inanity like GOD WOTS. "God wot!" and went on with my be —book. But Inter I took thought with -myself upon his remark, and after careful annotation of my wide general knowledge, which embraces such interesting accomplishments as homebrewing and tossing the caber, I was forced reluctantly to admit that the mental pigeon hole reserved for the "G's" included nothing beginning with "Go" except.God and Goloshes and a few minor entries. In ehort, I know nothing about the bird (except, in common with every school child, that it migrates regularly from the north in gargantuan swarms), and even less about the method employed to dispatch into some feathered paradise ite innocent -winged soul. What, I ask, ate the happy preparations made by the eager godwot hunter? Does he buckle about hie waist and loop about his shoulders a miniature arsenal or two in the fashion of hie near relative, pictures of whom I have frequently observed about May of every year swamped, except for beaming countenance, in a sea of deceased wild duckT Does he stalk the unsuspecting godwot, camouflaged behind a wooden semblance of his prey,* and uttering the provocative cry of the female of the species t Such, and other exciting questions of godwot-hunting procedure I have determined to answer for myself, so next February when my friend dashes around again all he will find of me will he a note pinned on the front door to the effect that I.have departed for climes practically unknown to shoot godwots, and no<*to .expect me back before next Tuesday fortnight. In passing there is one aspect of hunting, unexplored in this degenerate era, but widely practised in olden times, when a rival prince in the hand wae worth a deuce of a number over the border, ie that it offers a means for ready disposal of enemies—"by misadventure," of course. William Rufus ie a time-mellowed and oft-quoted example. I think I shall append a sinister little postscript: "Have taken Mr. Savage and the rent collector with me."— RJM.S.

Old Alf and I had sat through the night worrying—our huge stack of used razor blades beside us. Besides, our "Nasha-Nil Home Bru"

„„„„ —.».. venture had not taken "HOME BRU." on: Alf admitted having dropped a bar of yellow ioap into it. Yes, there had been many complaints. Dawn found Alf still messing about with the poisonous amberKH>loured fluid, testing it with blue and red litmus paper alternately. "Now I come to think of it, it was that pak-a-poo ticket I gave the chemist in mistake for the recipe. Goodness only knows what he's given us. You'd 'a thought them jokers would have picked the mistake though, wouldn't you?" he asked, simply "They're used to hieroglyphics,'* 1 said "I got an iron tonic for »ne of my rejected poems once by handing it into a chemist. Anyway we can always put a Chinese label on it." Came the postman, atid, tremblingly, I opened each letter. Abuse, threats from dissatisfied drinkers, more threats. Then I laughed. Alf looked at me with suspicion. I hadn't laughed since the ban, he reminded me. matter?" he asked. I showed him the letter. Oprest ie ,n the North Pacific," I told him. aii£ Tt er ? . Socmllst dictator-the Key. Ime Allbul—he claims to have a mandate. He was a mere uninsurable parson once—then he journeyed forth to emancipate the Oprest masses." "What's he want—Home Brut" 'No, used razor blades. He gives 'em to the Oprest State workers for wages." Pourine out a glass of Home Bru, he casually dropped a used blade in it. "Look, Mac! It's dissolved. It had. Completely. I never saw him so excited. "To-morrow we will buy ourselves a drink. Hooray. Alfmac. Completely Dissolves Razor Blades." The public rushed it—at one shilling a bottle. Alas—it cost us one and four to produce, counting sales tax Only a State-owned factory could keep goinc that way. "I know "said Alf. "Let's di£oh£ all our blades in it—Macalfa—the Magic Iron Tonic. Liquid Spinach. Makes you Bellow Like a Bull." I soaked a crust in* it and laid it near a mouse hole. A humble wee mousie crept out nervously and commenced to nibble out of our hand. He finished every crumb Then, with a defiant glare, chin "up and menacing appearance, strutted round our little world, inspecting everything critically. "Perhaps he thinks he, too, has a mandate," I said "How about us sending Miki a bottle for his birthday?" "Not on your life," Alf said "He might challenge the entire world, close down Parliament House by Order-in-Council deport Adam, and even defy Jonilee. Look at mousie there. Heaven help them other mouses •when it get* back J*ome. w --MacCliire.