HOW MUCH A WEEK

Hawera Star, Volume LI, 13 September 1930, Page 16

HOW MUCH A WEEK

T HAVE; oeen asked to explain why 1 ant worth £SOO a week, and 'obediently 1 went to the mirror to a'sk myself. writes George Robey, in the “Snndav News.”

j. can only say that I looked at myself most insolently, and asked instead : •‘Why am I worth only £SOO a week f” It's all a matter of point of view, as the .oldest inhabitant said when he was thirtsy. .My point of view, is a i unity one. It’s like the case where the party of tourists found a dead Indian, and | one said: “Wliartra Pity—he might, hev lived to be a chief with great dteedis of , pep and valour to hiis name, and in my view this is a hero warrior .lost!” But a live Indian nearby said: “Huh! from red man’s- point of view—dead squaw!” I know I haven’t answered myself vet. as to whv I am not. worth more than £SOO a week. Well, I will answer. . .

I bee to state with ohara.ctieri'stie modesty and truth and yet with the brutal frankness of a war novel about ■sex, that the question doesn’t arise, because; I am worth more, vastly more!

Indeed, an increase of stipendiary einolument or honorarium (or is that a, place where they keep fish—no, lam thinking of an effluvium) for the Prime Minister of Mirth, is nearly as much overdue as—well, never mind, von have your own troubles no doubt.

So you see, the point is not that i am not worth it, but merely that 1 don’t get it, which is known as Hie pons asinorum or the bridge that went slam.

L know I am worth more. Take a typical conversation over heard by a friend of mine as two ducliesses emerged from tiie gnUery one night. , , .. One said; “Ooo! what a lad: Uecige jm xiiv inside fair aches with laughin’.”

Robey Explains What He is Worth

• \-,amc> ’ere” said the other, ' »ot must it ne like to know ’ini, and just fancy ’aving ’ini for husband, and km at Jreakrast with ’is funny little at an’ twiddlin’ them eyeorows at yer!” ki co.ir.se, it is well known that I sleep in my little hat. Weill, y°u iuuM£. w what t mean. And 1 am a scream :JTi | breakfast. < j i can imagine Mr. Snowden saying 1 ought to twiddle my eyebrows a bit j more for my own amusement, and then i he could charge me entertainment tax ' on myseif. 1 His minions have tried everything else, and I am sure they would agree with those two girls that I am worth more, and probably they will take care that 1 am. to them! However. J. shall not submit to hiring assessed on myself as a Joke Factoiv employing, two hands. And they won’t get away with i- if they ask me for returns as a Haulage Contractor on receiving information that I draw heavy bookings. But haulage, yes! Music HaLlage. If a full house and) a squash is-, all the place will hold, they -blame it all cn. to Robey and cut -him down- to £SOO. I call tliat reducing me to absurdity. If you compare me with the latesttype of battleship, I’m here for a s-ong. And look >at the cost of living- Everything lias gone up-—eyebrows have gene up. And I’ve just bought a big drum, raid any morning 1 may come down and find a family of kettledrums to feed as wed. But what does anybody care? Nobody cares ns long as I remain Prime Minister of Mirth, because it is my professional pride and joy in. that capacity to see that they don’t care, that they forget to care and have a hearty laugh, and at £SOO a week it works out jolly cheap per thousand! And think how; I am helping the Chancellor of the Exchequer. But that isn’t the funny part of earning a large salary.