THE COMMON ROUND

Otago Daily Times, Issue 23828, 7 June 1939, Page 2

THE COMMON ROUND

By Wayfarer A maker of verses esteemed in southerly latitudes, but seldom heard from here, is inspired to cultivate a corner in our humble cabbage patch. His offering relates to a recent cable message announcing a« march on Rome to see Signor Mussolini by 70,000 Fascist women, aged 18 to 30, all uniformed in black. Quotha: Seventy-thousand Fascist women, Call them ladies, call them girls, Their ages range eighteen to thirty, Some have straight hair, some have curls. Some are dark and some are fairish, Some are thin and some are fat, Some are short and some are taller, Some have dainty feet, some flat. Some are round of form and figure, Some are square and cornerwise, Some flaunt, smiles, and others frowning, Some have dull, some sparkling eyes. Every sort of girl you ever Meet on the Italian street, ■ 1 In the ballroom, or the playground. On the Totalitarian beat. . They are off to meet II Duce See historic, noble Rome, . Uniformed in khaki solely As they never were at home. No bright ribbons, red or yellow. No gay headgear of their state, . No design of local usage Shows their beauty up to date. Marching in their sombre thousands From air corners of the land. They add sameness to the picture, 71 Duce only can be grand 1 . He is uniformed in colour, Hung with badges, medals, frills,

Blows his chest out like a schoolboy, Shows his latest Fascist drills. . Seventy-thousand women cheer him, But they sadly must confess That their bright-plumed leaders, Curse him—will not let them dressl Nicely said. And might we suggest that it would become the Duce to try a similar hike himself sometime. Last time he tried, as some discourteous biographer has shown, he had to make his famous march on Rome in an express train. Since then, it has usually been Axis-part-ner Adolf who has stolen the marches on Rome—and on Benito. Hence "Hit" and "Muss."

Which reminds us of a fellow in the north who has found a way to steal a march on Time itself. Perpend: Modern life is aptly typified in the action of a Hutt resident who has had an electric plug . fitted to the dashboard of his car. so that he can, with the aid of an electric razor, shave himself as he drives into Wellington,

This seems an estimable idea, but a doubt arises in our mind as to its efficacy as a contribution to road safety. It is the custom of those who can bear to bare their faces to their own inspection to use a mirror for this purpose. And the only suitable mirror in a motor car is that enabling the driver to see to the rear of the vehicle. Now if this old shaver relies oh his rear-vision mirror to aid him in his task, then he may ; conceivably obtain, a fair enough view through the stubble of traffic which is behind him, but he naturally will not be able to see what is in front. Yet it is clearly set out in the Highway- Code (or should be) that when one is driving a car it is even more important that one should see where one is going than that one should i Know where one has come from. On this point metaphysicians, traffic inspectors, and drunken drivers are agreed.

There appears to be, happily, a solution to this problem. At a slight sacrifice in knowledge of where he has just been—and he should be very well aware of this Without looking —a motorist may yet simultaneously shave and steer safely. All he needs to do is to attach his rear-vision mirror to the back of the car and, straddling the steering column, observe his visage and the road behind him (which now becomes the highway before him) as he trims his whiskers. Or if he is not one of your agile and acrobatic drivers, he can even more simply leave the rearvision mirror in its accustomed place, turn his car around, and drive in reverse while he. is clipping his facial shrubbery. Then every mile that he regresses will be a mile forward in the right direction.

We do not, indeed, see why the application of labour-saving devices to the chores which precede the working day should end with the simpler shave. What, for example, about breakfast? If an electric razor can be worked from the car battery, then why not the electric kettle for boiling tea? And an electric toaster? And if these, then why not an electric shoe cleaner and a toothbrush working in conjunction with the windshield wiper?

For the busy housewife with committee meetings or bridge appointments to keep, an electric sewing machine operated from the accelerator might well prove a boon; or an electric washing machine with a device for projecting the laundry articles out of the rear window, to air in the warm wind created by the passage of the car itself; or an electric hair-setter, which would have the inestimable value of forcing the woman driver to keep looking ahead, instead of into shop windows. Indeed, we can visualise the whole course of our daily life being changed (and even terminated) by developments in this direction. So clearly can we see it, that we are saving up to buy a non-electric chauffeur.

But more vital to the story of mankind, perhaps, is the accomplishment of Lord Bledisloe's hen. Says its proud and happy owner, in entering a claim in its behalf for the record: Mr Barns's six-ounce egg is not a record. Only a fortnight ago one of the hens on my poultry farm at Lydney. Gloucester, laid an egg weighing over seven ounces.

This fact we have pleasure in acclaiming as adding to the lustre of a name already honoured in the Dominion. Indeed, we will go further than that, and assert that it is probably to Lord Bledisloe's gubernatorial sojourn in New Zealand that his hen owes its achievement. The brilliant example of the moa, in manufacturing eggs which would keep a fair-sized family in omelettes for several days, is not one that would escape the notice of a gentleman with so lively and practical an interest in production problems as our one-time GovernorGeneral.

Another interesting and commendable activity is revealed in the report of the pious spirit in athleticism displayed by a team of baseballers in the English counties: The players concerned are the Rochdale Greys, composed of Mormon missionaries who. when losing, hold a short meeting in the centre of the " diamond " while the captain leads in prayers

The practical application of Christianity to our lives is almost daily advocated in some part of New Zealand, yet so far as we are aware it has never been properly introduced to Rugby. The fervent invocations of the Deity which are

heard from the terrace at Carisbrook orv Saturdays may possibly, however, be taken as an indication that the football crowds are appreciative of the efficacy of prayer But the mutterings that emanate from th scrums have, we are informed, little theological import at the present time. Nicola the magician experienced no difficulty in transferring from New Zealand the proceeds of his recent tour of the Dominion. Now If It's true that Mr Nash, Of our finance has made a hash. What Government needs, to stay the blizzard, Is surely a professional wizard. Mr Savage was described at Christchurch as a cabinetmaker. But not a proficient one, since he seems to have failed to equip his Cabinet with a safety device. It is a far cry back to 1849, states a contemporary. But we don't hear of anybody crying to get back there.