THE COMMON ROUND

Otago Daily Times, Issue 22779, 15 January 1936, Page 2

THE COMMON ROUND

By Wayfarer. Habit reversing itself, as recorded in the austere Manchester Guardian: — The other night in Fleet street a man was trying his best to get four policemen to get him out of licensed premises after business hours. It was at the Cock Tavern (the place where Tennyson conceived his poem beginning “ 0 plump head waiter of the Cock"), and the time was a quarter past 11. A distressed white face could be seen behind the grille imploring assistance. By some mischance this consumer had been locked in among the good cheer of the Cock, and yet wanted to get out. . . . The policemen ultimately rescued him by ladder to a second-storey window, taking his name and adress, I suppose for unlawfully parking him- ( self in a prohibited area. Quite a tragedy, as our friends of the New Zealand Alliance would agree. But there are some tragedies wherein it is impossible to sympathise fully with the victim—the tragedy of the millionaire who spends sleepless nights because he lost a £5 note down the drain-pipe; the tragedy of the armaments manufacturer who goes bankrupt; and of the demon driver who is knocked down at his front gate by a cyclist.

To be locked on licensed premises after hours Is really a very minor sort of trial. It is often considerably more exasperating to be locked out of them while the night is yet young; while to be on them regardless of locks, and found there by the police sergeanr “ without lawful excuse,” as they say, is quite the most distressing thing of all But, of course, no one need ever lack an excuse any more. All that is required is a watchful eye upon the door of the private bar, and when the police enter the rest is simple. Advance upon the sergeant steadily (if practicable! and exclaim indignantly: “ Sho here yar ’t lasht, off-off-officer; bin’ waiting for you common let me out since sixb clock. Shay, what yar think yar, leaving innochent man shut up in pub all thish time?” Whereupon one may expect the constabulary to apologise abjectly and deliver one home in person in a taxi, at the country’s expense. Whether the excuse will work so smoothly on arrival there is a matter a man must settle with his wife.

Almost equally ungrateful for mercies extended are the prisoners of Poland, who by a general amnesty have been released from durance. Perpend:— The authorities are supplying those released with food, clothing, and work in order to prevent them from swelling the ranks of the unemployed. . . . Some prisoners who preferred the shelter of prison to the gutters were “ persuaded ” to leave the gaols. Here, as In the matter of public houses and their patrons, is revealed the strange inconsistency of man, who wants to be in when he’s put out, and out when he’s shut in (New Zealand cricket repre sentatives are excluded from this generalisation, as they, of course, are usually out whatever their personal wishes). Are we to conclude that for every prisoner who resents being in gaol there is a freeman who would gladly swap places with him? If so, it might under a benign Government be arranged.

Think of the revenue-producing possibilities of such a scheme. Soon wo would be reading such advertisements as this: — Talented young criminal, anxious to pursue his professional activities, will exchange comfortable cell (solitary) in Paparoa for furnished room with breakfast, Dunedin suburb. Must be good Christian home with facilities _ for quick getaway in case of police raid. And perhaps this: — Refined spinster lady, private income, desires accommodation in good, clean gaol, three months’ hard. Male company preferred. View matrimony. Possibly this; — Business man, verge of bankruptcy, will exchange seats temporarily- with prisoner (rock-breaking preferred). Applicants must have good experience in falsifying company accounts and pushing bogus shares. Excellent prospects for unprincipled rascal. While the Prisons Department could cash in at last, thus:— Winter in Dunedin. Are the income tax collectors making things too hot for you? Do you seek release from financial and matrimonial cares? Then write to us and we can quote you for pleasant premises in the Dunedin Gaol, undisturbed tenancy over terms of 24 hours to six months. Come and Cool Down in Confinement. Regular Meals, Ample Cold Water, Pleasant Recreational Hours Under Expert Supervision.

It has its possibilities, as the cracksman said when he found a stick of dynamite lying at the door of the bank.

This stately Edinburgh of the South has for long had the reputation of a city in which neither pennies nor pounds are allowed to take care of themselves. We have even heard it described rudely as the City of Saxpence, and it is our pleasure now to get this legend in perspective. To this end, you are asked to glance due south from Dunedin, where there is to be found a city which plays Aberdeen to our Edinburgh. Our first intimation came when we met a fellow who was discussing the week-end excursion fares between this town and ours. “An excellent idea,” he x’emarked. “ It makes it possible for me to spend every week-end with relations in Invercargill. I only pay for my lodgings here now from Monday to Saturday, so that with the cheap train fares I can buv my ticket and still save five shillings in board over and above, by living for two days out of seven with my family, free of charge.” We expressed our admiration. “Oh,*of course,” he said; “ t used to do it before the week-end rates came in, but then I had to buy one excursion ticket from Dunedin to Balclutha, then another to Gore, and an excursion ticket from Gore to Invercargill. It was rather a nuisance, and I could only save about two shillings at that.” Our informant (northern papers please copy) was born and bred in Invercargill.

From that ebullient correspondent in Idaho who some time ago sought our counsel on beards (“Why is a beard?” he plaintively croaked, to which we sternly replied, “Why not, indeed?”) comes further confession upon his love of the limelight:— . . . Doubtless many people have wondered why I spend my life writing letters to newspapers in all parts of the world [We have —“Wayfarer”] without pay [We can guess that one; because they won’t pay you.—“Wayfarer.”] The mystery is really no mystery at all. [But just let’s pretend that it is.—“ Wayfarer ”] I hold that no man can be successful, prosperous, and happy in the true sense_ of those words [Which add up to an income of at least £SOO0 —-“Wayfarer”] unless he has used his knowledge, wisdom [What, both? How extravagant —or optimistic!—“ Wayfarer”] powers—all that he has—[And then where is he? — “Wayfarer”] in making or trying to make others wise, good and happy. [“Trying” is right—“ Wayfarer ”] What is money without happiness? [Well, it’s still money—“ Wayfarer ”] What is money without goodness? [Money—“ Wayfarer ”] I have given all that I have . . . Well, there it is. Or part of it, for there’s much more in the same rhetorical vein. Personally, need we add, we are all in favour of the philosophy.

If anyone happens to be giving money away (Messrs Armstrong and Semple, please note) we can assure him that a bit of it cast with a generous gesture

in our direction would greatly contribute to our happiness and goodness. At any rate, it would make us feel good. As for being wise—we leave that to the workers of the world, from whom we would so rapidly dissociate ourself; to the people who answer correspondents’ queries in the newspapers; to the sobersides who make pronouncements upon the moral errors of modern youth; and we bequeath all wisdom which they can accommodate to our legislators, who are likely to be in greatest need of it. For us, provided the anticipated largesse is sufficient, we shall have no truck with wisdom, legislators or sobersides.