NOTES BY THE WAY

King Country Chronicle, Volume XXXI, Issue 4565, 5 November 1937, Page 5

NOTES BY THE WAY

(By Rambler). If Germany insists on a place in the sun, what about the Sahara?

Add. similes: As relentless as November's examination papers.

Another reason why farm hands are so scarce is that they are expected to live as one of the family.

There is a lack of orders in the tanning trade. Schoolboys not being whacked so much?

The first housing contract has been let in Te Kuiti, but they can't tell me rough-housing has gone by the board.

I must warn anyone not to overimbibe this week-end—if they do the baccilli coli might jump out of the water in their whisky and bite them.

A British ship, it is announced, has been sunk, by Mussolini's son. We expect he anticipates there's going to be the Duce to pay.

An authority does not doubt that the demand for a better type of talkie picture is growing. But there is some doubt as to when the demand will be met.

A small but important beginning has been made to safeguard secondary industry. But how much more will our shoes cost us?

Broadfoot on Broadcasting: "Scrim's job was purely and simply a reward for past services." You don't mean the Friendly Road services, either, do you, Broadie?

State mines-are to be developed. I suggest it would be more laudable if State minds were the subject of this intention.

The Government during the coming twelve months is going to give consideration to the establishment of a short-wave station. Won't the people of England be impressed when they can.pick up our Parliamentary broadcasts.

People are still worrying about the jamming of IZB before last election. But both parties, if they didn't think the other side was as bad as their own, would jam the Parliamentary broadcasts before next election—if they have any sense, that is. I'm told Parliamentarians haven't, but still—

Dear Rambler, —In your last column there appeared an effusion headed "An Essay on Man," which, in other respects weak-witted and hyperbolic, began with the remarkable truth, "Man is what woman marries." Now, do you not think, there should be a counter-blast? Good. Here, then, be one:— AN ESSAY ON WOMAN. Woman is what marries man. That is, she chases him till he catches her. She is two-legged, one-eyed, twofaced, fore-shortened, many-sided, and invariably has nothing to wear. She is born man's mate, readily becomes his cheque-mate and ends a stalemate. Hence the proverb: "One man's mate is any man's poison." All women are alike, yet there is no such thing as an average woman, but wives are of three kinds—wives, damned wives, and other men's wives.' The latter appear to be the most desirable but, underneath soft and fluffy exteriors, the little things all carry chromium-plated hearts. Scientists tell us that woman's brain weighs over half a pound less than man's. In that extra portion man stores his senses of honour, fair-play and logic. This accounts for woman's muchvaunted "intuition" —a brain working without logic. Watch a woman driving a motor car. She has one eye on the shop windows, one on the rearvision mirror which is always adjusted to reflect her own countenance —and the devil take the hindmost—and one (not known to science) on Mrs. Smith's new hat. The while she jabbers with her passengers. The car is directed by a combination of the famous "intuition" and the Braille system. Thanks to the skill of the male drivers she encounters her "intuition" often enables her to avoid accidents.

Of course, we are supposed to admit that she is quite good with children and is useful about the house—yet "a woman's work is never done" . . . not half it ain't. A man could do most of it with little effort (have you ever heard of a good hotel with a woman "chef"?) Then there is the popular belief that a woman is par excellence in the sick-room Ah, well, no doubt the slimy pool is nectar to one dying of thirst: "When pain and anguish wring the brow, An interesting mangle thou!" "Lovely woman." Gosh! "The weaker sex." Gorblimey! Do not trust the gentle maidens, they're sneezers. Cunning as serpents (since Eden); as harmless as Waitete water; why Joan of Arc alone suffered the penalty of witchcraft passeth understanding. Young man, should you ever find yourself alone with one, fly while there is yet time!