POSTSCRIPTS

Evening Post, Volume CXII, Issue 11, 13 July 1931, Page 8

POSTSCRIPTS

Chronicle and Comment

BY PERCY FLAGE

Air. Holland, the"" . Labour leader, makes liimself quite clear: "Hero is a' letter that lias been sent by the Labour Department to a man who is an adult." '» i * « Comments the O'Hogan: It.may seem paradoxical, but the cablegrams ' solemnly assure us. that a. huge procession :of, tiic "Peace Army" marched to the ' anti-war demonstration ia London to the strains of military music. The "Colonel Bogey" march, no doubt» seeing that there, is v bogey of waf. in our midst. : * * *.' ■' '■■■■" • '< INVENTION. .■ It is marvellous the way th» news appears in print in New York" so quickly.—Jean Jules Verve, grandson of the "author. And not only the news, reverend . brother. ' , • ,';.■*. , ■ * « , ATOMIC POEM. This infinitesimal verse was inspire! ' by reading that Will J. Hays, the great movie panjandrum in the States (salary, six figures in dahlcrs), who reduced s{age kisses from tho threo-minut* stranglehold variety to a mere' tantalising peck, insists that, so far as film pictures are concerned, immorality must never, never triumph, over morality. Now for the midget; - . ' ' Arirtue : Won't hurt, you, . . But vice Is nice. ~-■"■•. That's our very own .'. . and we'i'B rather proud of it, because it must be , one of the shortest, completest poems in .tho history of literature. (Wo said "literature.'*) You needn't take- tho sentiment too seriously, but if you know,. of n more eonciso, compact philosophy in rhyme—well, pass it along, please. :■ ' ■ ( #- ■■ *■ . $ ";y , ,:' ■ . SLANDER.. ■■ 7 . ••■':'■.'•■'■ Dear l<\flage,— '•' ' ■ ■ , ;. ; ; . I. sec somebody in America says M'ui« solini's a pragma tist. Well, now, isnt that a bit thick, really? I, mean to say—-dashat all!-—there's a limit. It'» bad enough to bo called a "hit-and* . ruu" motorist. What about the international complications, an way? Ye?, you may say "tut tut," and many no ; doubt will hold that you have accurate-" ly summed, up thfi position; But you. must go deeper than thisj ITflage. I tell' you these strong, silent fellows ara ■tho very.deueo where there's a blot put on the old family1 escutcheon. Why, this should bo good enough for a gunboat at tho very least. I'll say that Yank had better watch out. Yours if winter tomes, J.I-1. .* * ' .*. OUR P.S.C. ■ . We arc feeling a trifle forlorn and undone. A correspondent, "Inquirer," is taking our column seriously, that is, • literally. Isn't it disappointingf Some days since a postscripter brok<p i^ito this feature with some pdrsiflago uncut tho wives of Civil servants supporting their husbands, or something like that, and the Public Servico Commissioner's views on such indecency. His questions involved abstruse legal considerations; nevertheless, we rattled to his assistance, free, gratis, and for nothing—such is our way. And now "Inquirer "wishes to know to what the "Edict of the P.S.C. precisely refers. . Does it apply to horse racing, art unions (so called), investments, shares; or does it include working full or part timo or , selling a bit of crochet work or a pair of home-knitted sox, or receiving prizo money for open competitions?" We have no authority whatever for stating "without fear of contradiction, that the "edict" appljes to nono of those things. At the same .time, if you aro making pocket monoy "on th« side," as they say in higher advertising circles, it might be good play, "Inquirer," to pass on to the P.S.C. a sura thing for Trcntham—if you have it, P.S.C. stands for Pretty Sensible Chap* * ■* ■ ♦ KEEP WMTINC. Dear Percy,— • But yesternight the thought camo t* me that my journalistic course was run, and 'twas- in my mind to write the«, in these terms . , . but with morninj* came renewed hope, as thus: — Keep writing—'tis wiser Than sitting aside, N And fretting and moping ' And waiting the ,tide. Notwithstanding Micawberj They only prevail Who daily write Percy The Plage, without fail. With your pen ever ready, JJooks of ref'renec well thumb *d|| And a heart that has never To. dolour succumb'd— You'll battle and conquer, Though thousands assail. If daily to Percy • You write without fail!. In life's rosy morning, And eke eventide, Let this be the motto' . Our pen-hand to guide: In storm and in sunshine, By every fresh mail AVrito always to Percy The Plage, without fail. Not lost, but gone bchiu'd, j L.D.A, V < * * » ' OPTICAL PHENOMENA. Dear Percy,—ls it not wonderful what the modern bright young thing can do with his or her,eyes? The following (with the. exception of tha parentheses, which are mine own) ara culled from a recent popular novel: — "Her eyes were fathomless twin pools of liquid passion—" (tho treat* meiit subsequently mctod out to them, however, leads one to doubt tho authenticity of 1 his statement). ■ "She cast her eye towards him—" (but they fell short' and rolled under the piano). "His eyes bored lire through and through—" (honeycombed her, in fact), " — searching her vary soul" (tha quest was, howew.y, fruitless and tho eyes wei'e then presumably withdrawn, dripping with gore). "yhe raised her eyes to his face —" .(and-ho', recoiled' with a shudder); "Don't touch me with them things!" he gasped. "Her eyes rested on his—" (but ho was a smooth-faced-' villain and they soon slipped, off.) "His eyes flashed fire—" (and smelt liko devilled kidneys). "Her eyes fell before his—" (but hiss proved to bo by far the more resilient and rebounded to a considerable height). "Her soul was in her eyes—" (a ' saturated solution, no doubt —you will remember that her eyes were pools). "She gazed at him with swimming eyes —:) (th' ol' swimmin' :n!e). ""Again Ji or eyes fell— rl (;ajid'ihis. time Lhc cut got them)* ,