POSTSCRIPTS

Evening Post, Volume CXVIII, Issue 56, 4 September 1934, Page 8

POSTSCRIPTS

Chronicle and Comment ■

BY PERCY FLAGE

All the same, it does not necessarily follow that you get the nakod truth at a, nudist conference. * * # After that experience in the freak storm at Folkestone, A. P. F. Chapman would have no fear of the most vicious body-lino Larwood could send over. * *' ♦ We do wish someone would invent a new alibi for people who get into print with a palpable indiscretion and call it ' "gross misrepresentation," or words to that effect. * * * An English astronomer bursts upoa the- world with a statement that space is limited. That isn't new. Editors have been saying the same thing since editors were first invented. * • • HEARD THESE? Forwarded by one of our "regulars." "Thank yo', boss, fo dem two rides,'^ exclaimed Eastus. "Two rides?" said the aviator. "You've only had one I" "No, sah," exclaimed the negro, "Ah" had two —mah fust and man last." Country Constable: Pardon, miss, but swimming is not allowed in this lake. City Flapper: Why didn't you tell me, before I undressed?- -. Constable: Well, there ain't no law against undrcssin'. * * ♦ VERSES WANTED. Dear Percy Flage,—l am not writing this with a desire to break into print. I know my limits. First let me congratulate you on your column. It is one of the brightest spots in my life. ... I want to ask your help. I have tried every source I can think of to obtain the, words of "The Pigtail of Lai Fang Fu." Perhaps you could help mo. Thank you, and keep tht pot boiling in Column 8. Yours truly, "SILENCE'" Thorndon. *• , * SCENARIO-WHITING. ■ In reply to M.C.M., Palmerstoi North: Tho best way to write for the talkies is not to write for them. Successful screen writers are men and women who are- already known as playwrights, novelists, and short-story expcrts. Perhaps only one-half of one per cent, are persons who begin directly in the scenario department of a studio. No producer will risk hundreds of thousands of dollars that a production costs on a writer who has not proved his worth in novel treatment of a story or a play. Sending an original story to a scenario department is useless because most departments return them unopened. Ono of Hollywood's leading scenarists tenders this advice- to prospective newcomers in the game: Write, but write for the magazines, for the stage, for the radio—anything. And if you have the gift of unusual treatment and novel approach tIK motion pictures will come to you. * » » POSTED : . . MISSING. "Disillusioned." —Thanks, but that one lias already appeared in this col" umn. "Half-back."—You may be right* but the point is not significant. "Emily Jane."—But it's early days for versos to Summer, don't you think! "A.B."—A hoary old chestnut. '' Strawberry.'' —'' Co wspanker " has tho germ of an idea, but you rather miss on it. Thanks for appreciation. "Who's Zoo." —Humour forced and technique heavy-footed. "Mirabilis Minor."—(l) Victor Daley is dead these many years now. (2) Any reputable Australian bookshop. "Suprema a Situ J'—lf only your poetic skill measured up to your patriotism! "Muddling Through."—Well, aren't we all? "X. E. Cute" (Wan'ganui). —Thanks for copy of the verses. Our West Const correspondent has been supplied. "What Ho."—Try to be more tolerant. "Delirious Dan."—That pseudonym belongs to someone else. What about "Demented Dodo"? >b * • "A BUSTED EDEN." He'd munched his lunch, and feeling fit, Smith gardening would go, Disrupting worms . . . good exercise With trowel, rake, and hoe. . Ho digs around the pansy bed, And digging, blithely, sings With thoughts of "beer, and "cuts" restored, And other pleasant things. Till, looking up his bloodshot eyes lleveal a fearsome sight: There, 'gainst the empyrean, flits A hateful "cabbage white." Now valiantly Smith springs wect « Prepared to do or die, With lust to kill, to squelch, to crush, Black murder in his eye, And strives his uttermost to slay The pest as it goes by.. He ploughs through beds, treads underfoot His marigolds and phlox, And tramples down, besides the thrift, His wife's beloved stocks. Ho ,-jnbs and swings and upper cuts, Fell ruin in his wake, Till, floundering round, now here, no\r there,' He stumbles on the rake, Which, springing up, to help things on. Whangs Smith across the face « ~,t Ho wilts and falls, and now lies prone— A loser in the chase; Whilst heavenward, white 'gainst th« blue, His joyous .quarry skims All innocent of this earth's guile, Its loves, its hates, its whims. M. SIBEON. ♦# > • ABOUT EGGS.Dear P.F. —We have not corresponded beforo (entirely my fault), but having become possessed of certain information, I feel that the readers of your column should be informed. I-havo just returned from a vacation of several . weeks (as paying guest) .at one of Wellington's leading accommodation houses, viz. the "Palace of Pain,'* and feel justified in my claim to a. knowledge of eggs. Finding tho atmosphere conducive to philosophy, I feel convinced after much thought that hospitals were forced upon a long-suf-fering public at tho instigation of tho Poultry Breeders' Association, in conjunction with their vicious Egg Circles, 'for the sole purpose of supplying a market for "cackle-berries." I think a Boyal Commission of Inquiry is necessaiy to Be present when our eggs are' boiled* Be present when they're poached, And see the dainty morsel made From an egg that nurse has broached. So here's to the eggs, both poached and boiled, Produced by hens who've cackled and toiled, And be those hens cither fat or tough, I thank tho LorS, but I've had enotghl Sincere!} 7 yours, EGGS-PATIENT,