Untitled

Northern Advocate, 16 September 1941, Page 2

“Avocate”, Water St.. Whangarei. Tuesday, September 16, 194.1 Bear Northlanders, Have you ever had the callingnames disease? It’s not a bad malady really, so long as the names aren’t bad names and they’re exchanged with good humour. The disease has infected headquarters—or at least that part of it that is occupied by the S.P. It all started with the Boy Next Door —who deserves the capitals—coming in to visit the S.P., who is in bed with whooping cough. Not a smile had the S.P. given until the Boy Next Door said jovially: “And how is the Old Sea Dog today?” S.P. smiled then and promptly replied: “You scallawag, you.” From that mild beginning things grew worse. My two-and-a-ha!f-year-old son called ME an “Old Sea Dog” and a “Scallawag.” I promptly replied: “You old Scandinavian Nobleman,” which floored Ilis Highness—but not for long. When the next round came in this strange duel, the S.P. called me an “Ole Sandenavnoblement” followed by “rabbit.” That definitely called for retaliation, so I replied: “You rhetorical rhinoceros.” Princess joined in the game then with: “Antideluvian anteater.” I got the final say—an unusual event fer me in our household—when the S.P. was fussing a little before going to sleep. “Settle down, you pernickety porcupine,” I called and retired quickly just in case, as I said to the Princess afterwards, that the S.P. “got the spike.” But I’d better issue a warningnow: don’t start playing the names game with YOUR father because he mightn’t understand. And eating breakfast from the mantlepiece isn’t the most pleasant way of taking nourishment! Rangatira, Northland Tribe.