Revolting Thought!

Northland Age, Volume XVIII, Issue 77, 8 July 1949, Page 4

Revolting Thought!

t “It is possible that even in our life- E time everyone in New Zealand will be equipped with his own walkie- j talkie,” stated the Postmaster-General ( recently. ( I’m sure you’re all going to agree with me when I state emphatically ( that this is perhaps the most revolt- ( ing statement that has been made by . a Cabinet Minister for a very long time. Why, even the Minister of Finance could not utter anything so loathsome as this. It’s just a horrible thought, that’s what it is. On your first thought, some of you are going to think that it is a bright idea. You are going to think how nice it will be when as you walk along or ride in a tram, you overhear someone say that Dogsbody is a sitter for the second at Riverton. This party has it from a woman who knows a friend of a friend of the owner. You think that you will be able to call up your favourite bookie and have ten bob each way on this racecourse certainty. | Or you might even think that it will ! be nice to be riding into town, and ! then be able to ring up from behind I the morning paper and tell the boss i that you won’t be at work that day I as you are in bed with a dose of flu, I and then toddle off to a show or out with a blonde. When going out for lunch, you think | that you might be able to ring your i favourite restaurant and order a doz- ' en oysters on the shell, with steak - and oysters to follow, and not have to | wait a moment for such a succulent dish or dishes to be placed before you. All these things seem to you now J to have their wonderful advantages, j but I am about to delude you, and j when I am finished, you are going to i thank me from the bottom of your | heart —I think —or hope. ] Now just imagine as you are leaving home in the morning, you grab I your hat, your coat, your umbrella, j your goloshes and stilts, your brief- | case and other whatnots besides the | shopping list that wifey has giver | you, and as you turn to kiss the bet- \ I ter half, she sweetly smiles and says | as she puckers up, “Have you go | your walkie-talkie, dear?” Yes, just like that. You admit that you have, and shi | suggests that she is glad you haven’ i forgotten it, as she thinks there ar j one or two things she has forgottei i to put on the list of things she want j you to get. j You sadly smile, and off you go t ; catch the eight-thirty if you are | city dweller, if not you just go off. j As a city dweller catching the eighi | thirty, you are bound to have ei

lings rather fine, and are necessary hurrying. Glancing at your watch, you find lat things have been cut more than little fine, and you start to gallop. Faster and faster you go, and belg a married man, you are out of ondition for running, and your breath omes in short, sharp pants. As you go harder, the station beomes harder to reach, and time seems veil shorter. But you are confident hat you have enough left in you to nake that final dash over the last ifty yards to catch the 8.30 with 33 ccs. to spare. Quite a comfortable margin. In act, if some of those mokes you have lacked in the past had had as much is that up their sleeves, or rather n their hides, you reflect, you would lave been a wealthy man by now, and able to go to work in a motor car, father than have to chase the 8.30. What a life. Ha ! The goal is within sight; and there is the eight-thirty just coming up the straight towards the station. You will have a clear four seconds

this morning. A stout effort. You commence to ease up just a leetle. There is no need to get in with too much to spare. You might be tempted to slack tomorrow morning, and you mightn’t be quite so much on tne top of your form then. Then suddenly there is a shrill warning from your walkie-talkie. I don’t know whether it will be a bell, a buzzer or a tickling in the region of the fifth rib or epiglottis. But whatever it is, you’ll know it when you hear or feel it. You will throw’ the switch, and to your ears will come a voice : “Oh, there you are, darling. I’ve just remembered. Please bring home a pound of those delightful pork sausages from Smith the butcher. I though you would like them for dinner tonight, and I won’t have time to cook much as I have to go to bridge this afternoon.” You cuss in your beard. You are bereft. “But dear,” you answer between I puffs, “Aren’t we—puff, puff—supposI ed to be going—puff, puff—to the i j oll es’—puff, puff—for dinner tonight, j Over.” I .“Well, so we are dearest. Now why would I forget that ? I know I was only thinking last night that 1 would wear my beige costume tc bridge, and I got it into my hea« somehow that it was today instead o. tomorrow. Now aren’t I a goose ‘ . Silly me. Over.” [ Your pace has slackened consider i ably, and the train is in at the sta tion. i | “Well, do you want the sausage i! or not? Over,” you manage to gasr “There is no need to be snappy - j William Bogglesthorpe. I merely tol t ' volt that I had made a mistake.

think you should apologise. Over,” comes back the voice of the wife who is on her dignity. By this- time you are scrambling on to the guard’s van, and the guard is brushing you down as he admonishes you for taking such a risk. In addition, you know that you are in for a nice time when you get home and all this on account of a confounded walkie-talkie. If it hadn’t been for chat contraption, wifey could have rung you at the office, and you could have had a laugh at her damn stupidity over the normal phone, and her mistake would have been the topic of conversation over many a meal for n any a long day. Then there will come the day when you are having a pot after work with the boys, and .uidenlj. youi gadget will ring, and you will hear the voice of the boss asking you to come back to the office at once and find the Janus General Average File that he can’t. So, back you must go and do the job as you have in mind the fact that you are about to ask for a day off when the All Blacks are playing in Wellington on their return. People will be able to ring you up at any old hour and invite themselves for bridge or a meal, or even to give you a tongue bashing, and if they don’t say “over” at the end of their discourse there is nothing much you can do in retaliation. But, summing the whole thing up, I think this is just a lurk. You all know what a lurk is, don’t you ? We used to work them when we were in the forces, and our ladies, God bless ’em, are working them all the time on us, and do it delightfully ; so, to he extent that we think we like i ii. Well this is a lurk between the > Postmaster-General and the Minister of Finance. , The idea is this. We will each have „ to pay a license for a walkie-talkie, and of necessity this will be a source j of income, but postages will drop off nsiderably, and there will be a oig 0 saving in the Income Tax Depaite inert by way of postages. There will be a broadcasting stae tion there that will bring each.walkietalkie in something after this fashion n Incidental music, for instance, “L« Danse Macabre.”

Then will come a voice singing. “Good morning, good morning, Mr Snogsthorpe ; we are pleased, yes very, very pleased, to tell you, oh to fell you, that your assessment for the year is a trifling, teeny weeny > £328/19/41.” I Now wouldn’t that be naice ? - Then when you hadn’t paid, there would be a broadcasting of so-called defaulters, and those who had earned - penalties. Wouldn’t THAT be a happy day ? Now you see what I mean when 1 s said I would delude you of your ideas '• of this walkie-talkie idea being r, good 1! ! d Let’s all stay as we are now, in I sweet innocence ! !