POSTSCRIPTS

Evening Post, Volume CXXIV, Issue 96, 20 October 1937, Page 12

POSTSCRIPTS

Chronicle and Comment BY PERCY PUGE "The Eternal Jew"—and Infernal Nazi"? »» . » Once again the tote bells will be ringing at Trentham tomorrow, and bo will the bookmakers' telephones. • » » It would greatly assist Alfonso's chances of getting the king job in. Spain if he had a reference from Mussolini. # * ♦ "Poneke."—Sir Ernest Davis childishly calls Wellington Harbour a pond. As calm as a mill-pond we venture to correct him. « # • Cheer up. When the National Supefw annuation scheme becomes a reality the spectre of want and poverty won't stand a ghost of a chance. * « • DON'T RUSH, GENTLEMEN! Dear Flage.—Would any of your contributors care to join the "Wooden Legs Club"? As president and foundation member I submit my qualifications. My grandfather had a scar across the bridge of his nose—boiler explosion. My father had a scar across the bridge of his nose—carving knife. I have a scar across the bridge of my nose —motor-bike. My son has a scar across the bridge of his nose—jam tin. Can any contributor produce a better j-ecord of "wooden legs running in one family"? If so, I will cheerfully hand over the jewels and regalia of office. I ASKEW. Karori. # ♦ « PITFALLS. Dear Flage,—Here are a lew mor« "pitfalls" to add to the list given by "F.R.S."— A nose dive, An eye wash, A war cry, A fish bowl, A thumb screw, A foot ball. A bun-dance, A tooth paste, A coal scuttle, A lemon squeeze 'er, A pen hold'er. Yours cheerily, DIANA. * * * INQUIRY DEPARTMENT. "Mug Punter" (Upper Hutt) .-Nightmarch won the Epsom Handicap in 1929. The New Zealander had been, favourite for the Metropolitan, and there was n6 thought of an Epsom run. But,, persuaded by one of Melbourne's most famous commissioners, Nightmarch's connections went for the mile, and the horse's victory cost the Ring about £50,000. Some of the money was lost when Nightmarch ran second in the Metropolitan, but still more of it was played up on the Melbourne Cup, which he won a few weeks later. The "books" will long remember Nightmarch. • • ■» . COINCIDENCES. Emmett Walpole sends us some cubtings from an American magazine setting down a number of strange coincidences. These are one or two o«. them. The ''Scrap Book for . March,. 1906," says that coincidences in figures have been strikingly numerous, Richard Wagner's association with the number 13 being one of the most remarkable. He was born in 1813; those figures added give the sum of thirteen. He composed thirteen o'reat works, and always said that he "set his head" on his after-career on the 13th of the month. "Tannhauser" was completed on April 13, 1845. Wagner left Paris on September 13, 1861; and he died on. February 13, 1883. The Boston "Journal" of July-14, the same year, gave a thrilling "thirteen'gtory." An alarm of fire was rung in on the 13th from box thirteen at 3.13 o'clock. Its location was 193 North Street, which numbers added amount to thirteen. The damage was thirteen dollars. Ther« were present thirteen firemen. Thirteen policemen were detailed to the fire; there were thirteen men at work , in the building; the alarm was pulled by a boy thirteen years of age, whose name, Giovanni Cecci, contained tliirw - teen letters. « • • \ CHEER-UP SONG. When you get a bit discouraged, And you feel a trifle blue, Don't forget that other folks 1 Have troubles same as you; But straighten out those wrinkles And give a little smile Purse up your lips and whistle, lad. You'll find it's worth the While. When your lovely castles in the air Come down an awful thud, Don't sacrifice your hopes and aimi To grovel in the mud; But face your troubles like a man. And in the proper style. Begin afresh, lad, that's the way. You'll find it's worth the while. For we all have disappointments, And we all have troubles, too. Each one of us has felt at times Downhearted and quite "blue." But the one who has the greatest pluck Will go the farthest mile. So screw up all your courage, lad— You'll find it's worth thfe while. R.G. Foxton. • * * A VOICE FROM THE PAST. Dear Percy, the Son of Flage,—"Tit many and many a moon since last I clamoured at the joyous portals of Column 8, and perhaps my cunning has faded with my reputation as a more or less successful evader of "W.P.B. Coming, the other day, upon a copy of "The Post," and turning almost mechanically to the accustomed spot, it was a great thrill to find the Old Firm still flourishing. Congratulations! But where are all the old names. Hemi Pango; L.D.A., Wordsworth Little, Rose Neath—good idea to hav« a roll call some day, wouldn't it? Was reading the other day in a radio weekly about the -latest thing in modern warfare. Spanish loyalist propaganda from the front line aimed at ! Italian volunteers on the other side, iper medium of a giant loud-speaker. A I barrage of talk with interludes f by J Ginger Rogers. Boy, what a system! The programme seems to be first a talk pointing out the folly of fighting other people's battles, followed by an invitation to come over to the loyalists; jthen a 'song by Ginger Rogers while the matter is being chewed over, the process is repeated. Sounds t« ! me like a good idea, but what happen; • when the 1 loyalists begin to lose patience? Something like this: First tha talk (as above) and then—"Now, Italian friends, while you think that ona over we play a record of Ginger Rogers. This is your last chance, remember—well, that was Ginger Rogers. Now, have you decided yet.? No? Well? we hate to do this to you boys, but you've asked for it. Sergeant! Get out that record of Bing Crosby!" Yours as in days that were, PERCY VER* Desolation Manor 11, Auckland.