Reporter’s diary

Press, 30 May 1981, Page 2

Reporter’s diary

Ying tong iddle ... ; Spongers

THERE is a little man called “Me” (prnounced me), who lives with his wife in Post Office Box 7139, in Sydenham. As he suffers from rampaging nuttiness from the toes upwards, he has been advertising for fellow Goon Show addicts to gather in the box to build a brown paper-and-string Goon Preservation Society (Goons for the preserving of). “Me” says that he has been a Goon Show nut for many years and when he did not get an invitation to The Wedding, he decided to start the G.P.S. “I figured there must be a helluva lot of other people who are Goon Show nuts too. I have got a genuine interest in getting these zany people together and doing all sorts of stupid things like ... (pause, think) ... and all within the law too. I expect to get knighted for this, at least before Milligan does. “The first thing I’m going to do once I’ve shifted flat is to get in touch with Terrence Milligan and Harold Secombe, and ask them why the hell they have not replied to this ad. It’s been out for two days, and they haven’t joined yet. I think it stinks.” Those interested in getting a foot in the movement (what’s afoot?), can send cardboard replicas of a $3 note to the “Save a Goon, Folks” fund. To show the way, Diary has joined as the official paper replica of a member, and encloses above an artist’s impression of a tape recording of cardboard replica of our special-rate $lOO entry fee.

ORGANISERS of tomorrow’s city of Christchurch Nike International Marathon are delighted that so many locals can lay claim to strong throwing arms and a keen eye for a moving target. Volunteers were in short supply, earlier this week, to throw wet sponges to runners in the marathon as they pounded their way round the course. A little last-minute advertising turned up a score of citizens eager to stand about biffing sponges for anything up to five hours from the starting time of 9.30 a.m. So, heave out your woollies and ther-mally-heated socks, and good shooting.

Computer games FIRMS with their own computer systems might like to take note of the recent experience suffered by the United States Government. Inspectors descended without warning on a top-secret military base in New Mexico. They found the central computer crammed with jokes, limericks, mortgage repayment plans, investment analyses, 247 different electronic games and the accounts of an illegal bookmaking business run by the scientific staff. Investigations are said to be proceeding. Credibility gap

PHILOMENA Horsley, the Australian students’ women’s officer, had just given a sensitive and serious talk about sexual harassment in universities. It was not just a case of students being bribed to give favours to lecturers

for good grades, she said. Most commonly, harassment came as subtle, or not-so-subtle innuendo and crude remarks at the woman’s expense. “Thank you,” said the male reporter. “I will now leave you in our photographer’s hands.” The faux pas, although unintended, was bad enough. Then the office chauvinist chose the moment to add: “That’d be dangerous ...” The reporter was left struggling for credibility. Strange injuries DOG HOUSE regulars take note! Space games enthusiasts will be proud to know that their favourite sport has produced a crop of strange injuries which are bemusing the medical world. “Space Invaders’ Wrist” is one such ailment. Sufferers report a stiff and painful right wrist (there are no machines for “lefties”) after playing the video game of the same name. The discoverer of this affliction, Timothy McCowan, wrote: “To my knowledge this is the first reported case of Space Invaders’ Wrist, and it may be an important consideration in the diagnosis of unilateral wrist pain in an otherwise healthy video game player.” Another pain is “Slot Machine Tendinitis” which is rarely seen by physicians practising beyond easy driving distance to gambling casinos in the United States. “Since slot machine players frequently over-indulge in the sport, moderately severe cases may be expected,” say two doctors who are experts on this syndrome. “The best treatment is rest —■ or winning a jackpot early.”