THE PASSING SHOW.

Auckland Star, Volume LXX, Issue 67, 21 March 1939, Page 6

THE PASSING SHOW.

(By THE MEN ABOUT TOWN.)

If they were to be gifted with speech, picture theatres and opera houses could probably tell of many humoroue incidents

«—.. — a *- hare occurred in the THE HAT-RACK, darkness of their spacious interiors. The following is the experience of a colonial in a Londo.-i theatre. The visitor, an elde'rlv woman, had walked far along the hot. dustv streets. It was therefore with relief that slie entered the coolness of one of the great city's many entertainment houses. Her hat behip oppressively tight. *he removed it and placed it on the smooth, round top of a pillar that *tood conveniently near. Imagine her horror, then. when the liglits flared up at the interval to disclose her bald ''hat-rack" in a state of intense animation.—K.G.B.

I must confess that some time ajn I wrote a. somewhat vitriolic par. on the subject of modern schoolboys and their addiction to

Morris dancing in preferFATHER'S WEAK, ence to orthodox sports. I withdraw my remarks. With fiendish ingenuity some sort of committee arranged a "father and son' , cricket match at my son's school and I could not escape. The sons hatted first, and from my saf° fielding position in the field I was able tn deliver word-- .>•' advice to niv offspring. When the innings liH closed I admonished my son for bavin? failed to hit out more freely, and added. "In my day we used tn attack the bowling, ami 'sixers' were common." I endeavoured to »ive a practical demonstration us I faced tlie bowler to receive the first ball. Running up the pitch and whirling the bat like a flail. I put every ounce of energy into that smack, but, horror of horrors, all that happened w;is a sickening crash yards behind me as the wickets clumped in all directions! To add to iny shame, the news was conveyed to the family in a cruelly cryptic way, "Dad got his Eaeter egg early' this year."—B.C.H.

Now that dentists are not permitted to advertise in our daily papers as to fees, etc.. we may perhaps obtain perfectly painless extractions. I underTHE DIFFERENCE, stand from a dentist friend of mine that sometimes it ie easier to extract the teeth than it is to extract the fee. Of course, dentUU arc often charged with doing the butchers out of a job, but again my dentist friend tells me that the accusation is entirely unfounded. In a burst of confidence he told me that he is always 'looking down the mouth," and he seemed quite serious when he added that all dentists got only "a hand to mouth living." Then he went on to compare the doctor, the lawyer and himself. He said: "We can't make a mistake: it always comes back to us; the socket is sore, the denture hurts, it nobbles when I kiss baby; a tooth came off when I was eating jelly, etc." Xow, he said, when the doctor does not give satisfaction, he buries the mistake six feet under the ground: and the lawyer's mistake hangs six feet above the ground. The poor old dentist can't even masticate his!—Gumdigger.

Krenkel. the Soviet Arctic explorer, has heen in the news again a* one of the witnesses at the trial of Vbsnieseneky, the wireless operator who played up LONG-RANGE nervily on dutv in the TALK, far north. Krenkel was one of the band who made an epic sojourn in Polar region*, and ie perhaps the only Xorth Polar explorer who has talked from those parts to Australia by short-wave radio. What is more, the man* who picked up his messages and answered him did so from Central Australia. It was a case of extremes meeting on the ether. That was when the 1937-38 expedition, led by Dr. Papanin, was making its 258 days stay within the Arctic Circle. Krenkel, who speaks English., presided over a radio set in a enow house, and broadcast a request for conversation to the world. Apart from picking up an Australian shortwave operator, he had at least one other radio talk in English. He tuned in to some American accents one day. "Who are you ?" lie demanded. "Ellsworth expedition in the Antarctic. Who are you?" "Soviet expedition in the Arctic." At opposite ends of the earth, each party wondered if the other wae fooling.—Johnnv.

My deplorable poverty compels me to use the trams frequently, and I almost invariably read, as soon as seated. Mechanically, I murTHAT'S THE sections." and receive a TICKET, thin slip of the poorest paper, which.l thrust into the handiest pocket. Presently a tall, severe official plants himself directly'in front of me and demands. "Tickets,"-sometimes '"Ticket*, please." In fear and trembling. I search mv pockets frantically, pulling out a heterogeneous collection of tram tickets, cigarette "tissues" and cards, postal note "tabs." my (twice weekly) weight cards, a few burnt matches and chain store vouchers (proving that I pay my way). ,; If you haven't a ticket you must pay again," remarks the official, "'iou admit that I have paid, by your remark, 'pay again.'" I tell him. Xow." why does not the Transport Board give us a slip of cardboard, like a railway ticket? This is. easilv found. I could place it under the band of my hat. or a lady could let it nestle between the third and fourth button of her coat; when the inspector wanted to "punch" it no time would lie lost. The most aggravating part of tlie business is that whilst I (all het up) •search for the wretched paper slip, the other passengers are laughing at" me. and nudging one another. Hands up for cardboard tickets! —A.A.P.

The alarm went off. and old Alf jumped up and put the kettle on. After taking a cup of tea in to Miki and Feeble, he opelie.'i THE FORECAST. ttL'SJtnS? , _, remarked. I thought so too There was scarcely a soul in the street A John Hop sauntered in and looked suspiciously around. "Quite a new idea this opening up on Sunday, isirt it?" 110l 10 said Sunday? I might have known it. Miki was up and arguing the point over the back fence with a Nationalist neighbour. "You can't tell me any thin-:," we heard him say. "As the bloke said in the paper the other'day. you're architects of ruin. not builders," our obnoxious neighbour told Miki. 'Tonic inside—-he'* a nark." old Alf said. "He's a Nationalist You'll never convince him that Labour's policy is any good." After breakfast Feeble got on to the subject of astrology. "Tα there anything in it. Mac?"' Miki asked. '-Maybe."' I said. "TVhat do tlie astrologist*; forecast for 1939—war?" "According to all the astrological charts published they are unanimous in declaring there will l>e no war in 103!). The consensus of opinion is that England win triumph without war and succeed in the pacification of Europe. According to them, one dictator dies this year, also a great leader passes in Europe—about the end 'of March or early in April. They say the Windsors will return to England at the end of the year, that a beloved English Royalty dies, 'that thfe year marks a turning' point in world history, that Chamberlain continues in office as Prime Minister, and that ." Feeble interrupted us. "When I got my cup read the other day they told me everything would be all right ,in New Zealand after we '/rot rid of this prosperity that Miki's ushered in and got back to normal. They told a cobber of mine what's in the Employment Bureau that him and a lot of his cobbere is going to get the eack as there is not enough urTemploy- I ment for him to attend to now that things te J prosperous." "Breakfast's readv," came Alfa voice.—MaeUure. ' j