THE COMMON ROUND

Otago Daily Times, Issue 21671, 15 June 1932, Page 2

THE COMMON ROUND

By Wayfarer,

Citizens will have noted with pleasure 1 that the City Council is now possessed . of a book wherein shall be recorded all gifts to Dunedin. Such forethought on the part of the council surely deserves a reciprocal gesture by Dunedin, best expressed in a gift to the City Fathers. In encouragement of such a laudable object we have, after serious consultation with prominent Dunediners, compiled the following list of gifts from which one may be selected for bestowal upon the members of' the City Council when next they meet: — 1. A holiday. 2. Double remuneration. 3. Chains like the Mayor’s. 4. Profits from the bus services. 5. Our rate assessment notices. 6. Working model of the new Waipori dam. 7. Privilege of playing Rugby in the Octagon. 8. Three cheers. A note upon the merits of the various proposed gifts is added to assist generous taxpayers in making their choice. It will be perceived that gifts 2, 4 and 8 have a similar monetary value; indeed, this is so comparatively insignificant that the donors could probably afford to give all three, the only matter to be taken into consideration being whether they feel like cheering. There is no need for comment uponHhc desirability of gift three, taxpayers being referred to the adage about giving a man enough rope. - The length of the gift would also call for careful thought as regards gift one also, and could be decided at the whim of the taxpayer. Gift five is a problem gift, but taxpayers might approve it, though they must be reminded about the proverb regarding the casting of bread upon the waters. The sixth gift, a working model of Waipori, might be described as unusual and even unique, and should appeal to realists as being, so to ’speak, even truer than life. For gift seven the privilege of playing ducks and drakes might be substituted if taxpayers thought it more in keeping with the council's capabilities, or feared that the suggested gift might camplctely bowl the council over.

The cabled reports of that impressive ceremony, the trooping of the colour at the Horse Guards parade on the anniversary of the birth of the King-Emperor, record one interesting aside:— The only untoward incident was while the King and his sons were riding round inspecting the Guards. The Duke of Gloucester’s mount, startled by the massed bands, plunged and kicked wildly, and had to be ridden away for, twenty minutes till it had quietened down. Britons who have a loyal interest in the history of the House of Windsor will be pleased to note that thus his Majesty’s third son has, so to speak, justified his Royal spurs. The predilection for horses which King Edward displayed has been retained by his son and grandsons, and the life of the Royal Family may be said to have had noteworthy equine associations. All the world appreciates, with a good-humour to match his own, the cheerful gamencss with which the Prince of Wales rides bloodstock, the gay insouciance with which he remounts if, as has been known to happen, he suffers such a toss as may be taken by any gentleman rider. The heir to the throne could almost claim to have been thrown in every part of the Empire, and in places beyond, and all the Empire rejoices that if he sometimes loses his rein it is in no prophetic sense. His Majesty’s experiences with horseflesh have been varied. The most disturbing was in France in wartime, when his mount fell with him and he was forced to nurse a wound honourably gotten in the course of his kingly duties in Flanders. General Seely an occasion when, during army manosuvres, his Majesty again suffered from the attentions of a high-spirited charger and mildly remonstrated with its owner: “I wish you would stop your horse eating my foot! ” — # A newspaper correspondent, quoting the case of a country storekeeper who for the carrying on of his business and recreations requires eighteen licenses, complains that there is too much restriction on the activities of New Zealanders. A license at birth. Then you're forced Into school; A license to vote, Be you genius or fool. A license to wed, < Costing money, of course ; It the bargain’s regretted, There’s one for divorce. A license to sell things, To buy or to roam: A license for wireless, In your licensed home. A license to fish, And a license to shoot; A license to fly Makes more Government loot. A license for driving, For dogs, and—Just think — If a man’s driven to them, They license his drink 1 They license his pleasure, They license hlfl breath. And when he has lost ft There’s a license for death! The Paradox — But if all these restrictions Were swept out to sea, Would we be rid of license? — To the contrary! A simple little device to prevent Auck-land-minded persons from breaking windows and grabbing wbat is behind them has bien demonstrated in London: — A delegate hurled a heavy iron motor jack through the plate glass window of a dummy shop front. Immediately a siren screeched so that •it could be heard half a mile away, a gas bomb exploded, a smoke bomb burst, and a steel blind operated by an invisible ray snapped across the window. Thus the gems were saved from the clutching hand of the bandit. This neat contrivance will, quite possibly, be merely the forerunner of equally Heath Robinsonian gadgets for regulating the behaviour of public nuisances. We have, for instance, advance information of a corrective for the person who crackles confectionery wrappings during a tense scene at the kinema. The prospectus . states: —

Immediately the paper is crumpled the screen hero disengages himself from the embrace of the heroine, his face, registering anger, swells to monstrous proportions, and he bellows in a voice of thunder. “Stow it, guy!” At the same time the organ plays “ Home, Sweet Home,” the stars descend from the w ' ing as a swarm of wasps, conceaV-I uco hoses sweep the audience from ii* seals, the Mayor comes in and reads the Riot Act, hordes of special police armed with batons miraculously appear and lay about them lustily, bombs and heavy artillery explode while the building sways and cracks, and an usher, clad in the costume of Mephistopheles, advances upon the offender, takes his lollies away from him and consumes them. All who realise how exasperating the interruption caused by indiscriminate eweetenting can be should appreciate what a difference the installation of this harmless and inexpensive device would make to the comfort of people spending a quiet evening at the talkies. From a racing note: “No horse appeared in better condition than Orwell, who has muscled up. His ugly locks will always spoil his appearance, but beyond that he was hard to fault.” Presumably, adds the sporting contributor who provides this paragraph, they cut these locks before the Derby was run, and Orwell, like Sampson, found his strength departed from him.

A contemporary records the death at 78 of a dietinguished biologist, who was born in 1954 and proved himself a very active and versatile man. He must have been, won’t he? It is proposed that showers should be installed at the Gore showground. A correspondent suggests that this would be a work of supererogation. A bust of Mr Lang was carried in»o C e Federal Senate. The appropriate comment is, of course, “ Lang's bust. ’ “ Wanted—live Customs clerk.” So runs an advertisement in a local newspaper. Some people are very bard to please.