POSTSCRIPTS

Evening Post, Volume CXXVII, Issue 75, 30 March 1939, Page 8

POSTSCRIPTS

BY PERCY FLAGE

Chronicle and Comment

In a shop window at Prague: We exchange gas masks for German dictionaries. « » * Those Central European peoples taken under the Fuhrer's wing are due for a smothering time. | # te * It gives us special pleasure to be able to r-eport that there is no truth in the story that the police are on the trail of a group of Nazis who vacated their ■ "digs" in Victoria Street on Tuesday afternoon. ♦ * ♦ Pet One> —What would you advise? Should I buy my running shoes, of join the workers of the Employment Department and get a free issue? Or is this lese mafestie or infra dig? It is.—P.F. ' • » # * Vonk. —Observe the ecclesiastical flavour in major Power politics: Italy has her holy rights and Japan her sacred mission. Only Germany remains to proclaim her divine message to com-. plete the axis. * * * " INDUSTRIAL EXPANSION. Dear Flage,—During the course of tha Prime Minister's visits to factories a machine for making buttonholes was shown in operation. Previously, of course, these holes were imported. WINSH. » * * CAUGHT BEET, BOWLED-ROOT. Sir John Squire is wrong in the anee» dote in his cricket article—Beet arid Root did not play for Worcestershire. They both played for Derbyshire before the war, and it was often "a vegetable combination of "caught- Beet, bowled Root." Both were born within a few doors of each other at Somercotes, Derbyshire. FRED BOOT, i (Letter in the London "Daily Mail.")] ' ♦* • • SCOT WITH SIXPENCE. \ "New Zealand House," a friend of ' ours on tour in Merry (?) England, sent us this story, the veracity of which he guarantees. "Shortly after the NewYear a pal of mine, lately returned from Calcutta, and myself happened upon those wonderful machines at Piccadilly tube station which issue tickets and give change. Bill inserted , a sixpenny piece for a twopenny ticket. The machine, as if conscious of the occasion, promptly proceeded to discharge a wealth of silver and copper coins. A Scot (Bill's a Glesca bloke) is never at a loss in a situation like this. And ne is not slow to exploit its possibilities'. 'There must be more than one machine like that in London,' he said to me. Now he is starting a small corner in sixpenny; ; ■pieces!" ■ =. • *** s i INTIMATIONS. H.J.B. writes.—A little time ago you published some lines by an American master of rhythm, whose name escapes me, about Adam and the cantaloupes of •Paradise, etc. More of his work would be welcomed. That one isnow>in my scrapbookV Perhaps that lady in- Newtown who is a friend of Don—(We, too, have forgotten his last name) will come to our inquirer's assistance. § Well-wisher.—That clever spoor has already been published in this column. Thank you all the same. r.j.W.—That story, which we liked well, would be better suited to a club smoko. Them was the days! Polly Flinders.—Shall be glad to use those lines when the occasion arises. Lorimer.—Clever, but as the matter still is sub judice, we cannot touch it in this feature. Salutations reciprocated. . , M T Payte.—Yes; we had wondered about you. And how did you find "our 'arbour" and the suicide Gap? Tableau Vivant—We let the curtain fall on that one. * • * MORNING TEA MONOLOGUE. Wensdee Evenin'. Dear Mr. Flage,—l'm stayift' 'ome On purpose for to write this pome About the fire what shed its light All round the place on Toosdee mgOTi An' also lit up Willis Street With a most strong intensive 'eat What was deflected 'ere-'n'-there On them who only stand-'n'-stare, Not 'avin' nothink else to do To pass the time—like me-'n'-you. I was jest mendin' ole Bill's pance, An' gazin' at the seat a skance, When nex' door—she's a funny dame Who some'ow always calls me Mane, Which I don't like, as she well knows, An' goodness gracious, 'ow she blows Becos 'er buddy, bless 'c's 'cart, Is workin' on a garbage cart. . . . Where was I? Yes; well, my nex' door, As I was tellin* you before, Bawled out (she's known as BeetleBrown) . > That Wellin'ton was burnm down. In fact, was goin' up in smoke. She also roused the nearby folk, An' soon we all was on the way, AH 'ot-'n'-bothered, as they say, To Willis Street, an' whatta blaze Spread out before our gapm' gaze! -. When I 'ad watched it quite a bit • I said I'll make a pome uv it, An* thought of nice worchTwhat would go Along with such a 'ellish show, _ While flames like sheep's tongue* leaped up 'igh, . An' red snow flittered to the sky Like Pink confetti pale-'n'-pure— Til post the pome tonight for sure. , By 'phone this (Thursday) morning:— «nh Mr Flage! I'm undid and underdo^ bSS used the pome to light Vs pipe, not knowin' it^ was a pome, the careless brute. . . So that's that. * * * INFORMATION DEPARTMENT. Writes "Sonover Gun" (Seatoun): Did a man, who called himself the "Iron Mask," walk around the world behind a pram for a wager? If so, how long did he take? I've a bet of 2s 6d with the dad on it. He says he remembers seeing the man at work. Thirty years ago there was a man who called himself "Iron Mask" who set off to push a pram around the world for a wager of 100,000 dollars offered by an American millionaire. He left Trafalgar Square on January 1 1908, and by May 20 had passed through the towns of eight or nine countries. He expected to "do" the world in eight years. Dressed in a knickerbocker suit and sandals, he travelled an average of ten miles a day. There were other conditions than merely trundling a perambulator. At all times while walking and in public he had to wear a mask weighing four and a half pounds. He was not allowed to accept anything, not even a glass of water or a piece of bread, without paying for it in kind or cash. He also had to find a wife on the journey, but that was the simplest part of the wager—he took his choice from thirty-one applicants!

As to whether the "Iron Mask" eves completed the job, history fail* to record. .;