BILL AND 'ERB

Evening Star, Issue 18052, 21 August 1922, Page 7

BILL AND 'ERB

LIKEWISE CYRIL AND AUBREY. A POT AND KETTLE INTERLUDE. [By Blue Peter.] Wandering around the ground 1 on Saturday, I began to feel a bit lonesome. I was on the look-out for my friends. Bill and 'Erb, ■ who, I was sure, would have some interesting observations to make regarding this match, and perhaps about the previous Saturday’s. But I couldn’t find them, so wedged myself in amongst a knot of youngish chaps and waited for the kick-off. Presently I overheard a conversation that was being carried on in what is usually termed “ well bred 1 tones.” ’Erb would call them ‘‘well buttered tones,” or perhaps something even more salty. The two young men involved in the talk were correctly tailored. They wore new “buns,” and at the other extreme appeared 3in of sock (in the ono case a substantial' check, and in the other a saucy jade) bounded on the north by a neatly turned-pp trouser leg, and on the south by a fashionable welted shoe. Each had a cigarette in his mouth. Doubtless in pre-Prince of Wales days they went hatless and smoked pipes- “ Bai Jove,” says ho of the check socks, and who later turned out to -l>b Cyril, “ I hope old Stew', scores a few to-day; he’s in feahfully good nick.” ■ “Absolutely, agrees Aubrey, who proved to bo tho thin end of tho duologue, so to speak. “ Beastly rotten of the papers to rub it into Billy Eea last week,” went on Cyril; “those fellows who write tho notes don’t understand his brainy play, that’s tho trouble. If qld BOly wasn’t in the team Otago would' go down every time.” “Absolutely," reiterates he of the jado socks.

“ They tell mo the selectors actually considered leaving him out of to-day’s match.”

“Not reahlly!” questioned Aubrey in pained tones. “Positively. They’d have been bally sony for it afterwards, what! Old Billy and Doo. Perry and 1 Stew are the whole thing, to my mind. And Mackereth isn’t bad either. Wouldn’t mind betting a shil. ling,” he ventures, “that Otago como a horrible cropper against Southland. Our chaps won’t be available that day, you know. Pity old Harty’s not playing today,” he regrets; “I don’t fancy that fellow Milne much.”

“Don’t know him; who’s ho play for?” asks Aubrey in tired 1 tones. The cheers which greeted the appearance of the teams and the kick-off had scarcely subsided When 'I pricked up my ears. Surely I knew the voice just behind me. “Betcher SasanoffTl shako ’em up ter day.” “ Mv oath."

In very truth hero were Bill and ’Erb. Hooray! Insipidity would give way to something with ginger in it. “Go it, you beauty,” shouts Bill, as Sonntag gets a move on. “ Good man, referee.” ho adds when Otago is given a free kick; “ dean off-side that bloke with the ‘A’ on ’is back.”

Almost immediately the whistle went again, and the referee's arm shot out Otagowards. “That’s right,” says Erb; “those Auckland blokes’s too fond of sneakin’ up off-side.”

A bump into my ribs and a yell into my ear shortly afterwards. “’E’sgotit! Go for yer life, George—now—oh, ’ard 1 luck. Why wasn’t Fea backin’ up? Don’, know what Vs in the team again for; played a rotten gam© las’ Saturday.” Cyril and Aubrey look sadly at each other; their eyebrows go up, and the corners of their mouths perform the reverse movement. Tho look says plainly : “A one-eyed barrackcr, ray dear; take no hotice.”

“ Stew., Stew.,” cries Cyril excitedly as the ’Varsity wing makes a. bolt with the ball. But,”as usual that day, the speedy one didn’t get far before he was upended and sent sprawling. “Plays football like a dead sparrer,” says ’Erb; “on ’is back, with ’is legs in the air, all the time.”

Milne’s try was a triumph for Bill and ’Erb. “What did I tell yer?” asks tho former of the world in general. “ One of the beat. Good boy, Millun. Leaves all yer stoodent backs standin’, an’ scores a try; an’ ’im a forward.” Bill was bubbling some, and ’Erb well above a simmer.

“What a positively lovely {-hot,” enthuses Cyril, as Sinclair converts tho try. “Not a baddy,” grudges ’Erb; “no wind ter stop it, though.”

Auckland were suffering penalties for their over-eagerness in the matter of taking the ball fiom the scrum and getting off-side; and Bill and ’Erb reckoned it served ’em right. In this opinion Cyril and Aubrey heartily concurred. “He’s a perfectly fair old referee,” said Cyril, and Aubrey agreed “absolutely.” “Always said George M'Kenzie was one of the best,” he added. Something like a gasp escaped from ’Erb beside me. Ho gazed hard at the referee, and then looked at Bill. “Gripes! D’yer see who’s refereein’?" he asked weakly. “ Strewth,” answers Bill, and again “Strewth.” “I thought,” he said, “that Eck’old was actin’ ter-day.” This was a knock-out. and for some time the pair were silent, and the field was left to Cyril and Aubrev.

“I positively can’t make out why the selectors didn’t put Lusk in,” remarks the former. “He knows the brainy play of Billy Pea and Doc. Perry so well. M'Naughton is really dreadful.” “Absolutely,” agrees Aubrey. “Who does he play for?”

Hero Bill -and ’Erb are roused a little by the crowd proclaiming a dash along the wing by Otago’s three-quarter (left). “Good-o, George: go for it—’e’s ov Oh. ’ard luck.” Bill mumbled .something further, ■which might have referred to the tram and the muddy sheets; but the streets were not muddy that day. “Where was the referee?” complains ’Erb. “ The bloke that tackled Owles was miles off-side.”

“If they would only put Billy Fca on the.wing and had Murray back in the team they would do very much better,” ventures Cyril to his friend. “ An’ ’Arty,” blurts ’Erb, with cutting sarcasm. “Don't forget- ’Arty, an' ’All an’ ’Art, and a few more of the blinkin’ stoodeuts.”

“ Might do worse, old bean,” Aubrey was roused to retort.

“My dear, take no notice,” says Cyril. “No, me darlin’ old peanut, don't take no notice,” mocks Bill.

“Why don’t yer plant 'em one, the little love-birds,” sneers 'Erb; and, as a postscript, “ Never saw sich a one-eyed mob.”

The atmosphere was getting slightly electric, and half-time came rather as a relief. Bill and ’Erb went off to consult Mat. Dawson on some knotty point, and Cyril and Aubrey lit fresh cigarettes. Before the second- spell commenced the crowd thickened around our group, -and when Bill and ’Erb returned they couldn’t get near enough, and wandered- away to find a -better possie. I stayed for a while, but becoming satiated with “ Stew.” and other Light Blue delicacies served by the now unobstructed- Cyril and Aubrey, I, too, moved on. And, though I kept an eye and both -ears open for sight or sound of ’Erb and his cobber, I didn’t see them again That afternoon.