THE COMMON ROUND

Otago Daily Times, Issue 23351, 17 November 1937, Page 2

THE COMMON ROUND

By Wayfarer

Talking of the inventive genius our nation, confirmation comes in the statement of a British officer: My job is to look into the inventions which are sent into the Army Office, and I have found that the most practical suggestions and those of most use to us come from New Zealand.

This is gratifying, indeed. It seems to indicate that with so much brain around dedicated to bigger and better ways of destroying people, our small but ambitious Dominion may look forward to being able to have a war some day, just like the large and important nations. Tourists may talk sneeringly about our isolation, but we're getting more like Europe all the time.

But we do hope our clever inventors will find a little time to spare to think up some improvements for New Zealand as well—and particularly one for the promotion of peace in our time (we refer to this present period of parliamentary peroration). Years ago man turned his Ingenuity to producing silence in various forms. There is the silent vote, the silence that gives assent, and there were silent hansoms with rubber-shod wheels, and there are now (though you wouldn't, perhaps, have noticed it much) silent motor cars There was even, in Invercargill, a silent policeman standing in the middle of Dee street, till some absent-minded motorist drove his way, when he emitted one groan and silently slipped away. But there is one amenity (or necessity, or public nuisance—or whatever you like to call it) that has never been rendered silent yet. We refer to politicians. And we can't suggest better than that the bramy boys start by developing one—and the silenter the better.

So we place at the head of our list of demands the following " Wanted ": A Silent Politician A vain hope, you may say, but it is wonderful what Science is accomplishing nowadays as the handmaiden of Nature. For instance, already they have evoked between them an orchidaceous affair which is generally spoken of as: A Big Blonde, Beautiful but Dumb. Well, if it is possible to produce a Dumb Blonde (that is to say. a female with golden hair and no come-back) then it should be possible to create a Dumb Politician; but perhaps, actually, this product is already sitting in the House, but just hasn't yet realised its own limitations. And we must confess, now the thought strikes us, that we can scarcely expect Mother Nature to accept any blame for politicians, any more than for blondes. They just aren't natural.

Of course, there are many other inventions we are awaiting just as eagerly. For instance: A Temperate Hot Water Bottle. For years now humanity has been battling with hot water bags in one form or another, and it must be prepared to admit that up to the present it has been singularly unsuccessful. The hot water bag wins every round. Sometimes it is too hot, and humanity gets its toes scorched; other times it is too cold, and humanity suffers from cold feet; sometimes the cap won't unscrew, and humanity has to go to bed without it; sometimes the cap unscrews of itself, and humanity awakens in the night thoroughly damped; sometimes it works down to the bottom of the bed, depriving humanity of its services; other times it won't stay down, but insists on edging its way up the bed and sitting bleakly on humanity's slumbering face. But we need not continue. Only in Auckland and at the equator is humanity happily unaware of the idiosyncrasies of the hot water bottle. It certainly offers a fine subject for investigation by the inventor.

Then from a captious correspondent the following semi-political note:

Dear "Wayfarer,"—! see that the Government intends to make newspaper writers on political subjects confess to their effusions and no longer hide behind pseudonyms. [Will our face be red?—"Wayfarer."] With my own sad experience in following the tips of the sporting writers during the recent race meeting in Christchurch m mind, I am certain that the regulation should apply to them also. Id like to know the names of the tipsters responsible for the loss of all the money I'd saved to pay my income tax, so I could thank them personally.—l am, etc., Sourly A. Lemon. It seems a proper suggestion. The sporting public has been receiving too many horse-laughs straight from the horse's mouth.

In view of the astronomical dividends at Christchurch, we would go further. Sums amounting to thousands of pounds have been lost to the punter through the failure of the sporting writers to tell him what to put his money on. Surely the Government, with its solicitude for the depressed classes (and who could be more depressed than the racegoer who has missed a £l2O dividend?), and in view of its beneficent legislation allowing compensation to all sorts of people, could introduce measures for the protection of the bettor, making the tipster financially responsible for all losses incurred through following his advice. Or at least, it should be possible to issue some sort of invalidity pension or unemployment insurance for victims of obviously invalid trotters, and wallopers that refuse to work. Though we cannot refrain from a moralistic personal comment that anyone who goes to Riccarton or Wingatui hoping a make a monkey out of a pony is a donkey.

The investigator of milk marketing in this city reports that the present system "is not conducive of the supply of milk to consumers of good quality. . ." But it should have been explained to him that in Dunedin milk is not the beverage favoured by people of quality. It is possible, says an Australian, to walk from Sydney to Melbourne through the bush without seeing a snake. It is also possible to see plenty without stirring from one's bed if one is in the right spirits. "A Difficult Case—Man With Nine Children." We'd have said it appeared comparatively simple. Kinema note: " The streamline, modern comedy of a private love affair whose kisses splash all over the front pages and whose adventures sell extra editions, with Tyrone Power, Loretta Young and Don Ameche as the'thrilling threesome stepping out in a fast-moving, high-stepping springtime romance, met uproarious acclaim. . ." It just shows how necessary it is to make the front pages kiss-proof—-and even splash-proof.