THE COMMON ROUND

Otago Daily Times, Issue 23954, 1 November 1939, Page 2

THE COMMON ROUND

By Wayfarer

From the new Import Restriction schedule: “List G: Items in respect of which no licences will be granted in the meantime or imports from any country. . . . Braces, suspenders, 1 garters, belts and similar articles.” The cost of living’s rising, You tell us with a frown; But there's some consolation, For pants are coming down. For abdominal reducing, You say you need a belt; Fear not; consumer prices Soon will make your figure melt. The pound may be Inflating, Yet there’ll be no suspense; If you want to keep your socks up Just hang them on a fence. Well, even if it means that there will be no more garter nights in New Zealand for some time to come, the restrictions will not prevent us from having'an occasional bracer. But before we start complaining about import restrictions and petrol coupons perhaps we should give a thought to the problems of the Reich-dweller: All German horses, cows, and pigs, except those owned by fanners, must have food cards by November 1, Taking our own case as an example, we cannot help wondering how the matter is to be regulated. Our pet pig, for instance, who answers to the name of “Adolf”—if we lived in Germany, would Adolf have to produce his food coupon when he nestles against our knee at dinnertime, begging for tid-bits? Or would we have to use his coupon to buy the food for dinner, and nestle against Adolf’s soft rump, begging him for a bite? Then there is our favourite cow, Europa. Often when we are sitting by the fire at nights and glance up to see Europa gazing at us with lustrous eyes from her silk cushion at tne hearth, we cannot resist running off and getting a saucer of cream to place beside her And to hear her ourr with pleasure as she takes it up in her gentle hooves and sips genteely is a constant delight. Would it be necessary, if we and Europa had the fortune to live in Germany, for us to give her a food ticket before she yielded to us the milk from which we subsequently obtain the cream to give to her as she nestles before the fire o‘ nights? And in that case, would Europa have to return the food coupon to us before she sipped? These are questions that require an answer. With something akin to remorse we take leave to read into the record one more tale concerning the sprightliest of Trees—to wit, Beerbohm: A man bought a small grandfather clock at an auction sale. When he was carrying it home under his arm he met Beerbohm Tree, the actormanager. “My dear fellow,” protested Tree, “wouldn’t it be more convenient to carry a watch? ” This reminds us of some of the smart wisecracks and scintillating epigrams of one who, for various reasons, we are bound to consider the

greatest wit of the age. We refer, need we add, to that brilliant commentator known to thousands of his admirers simply as “Old Wafe.” Here is one of the gems from the as yet unpublished collection of “Old Wafiana”: “ Old Wafe ” once went to a reception to a visiting celebrity, to whom he was introduced. _ _ . “How-do-you-do,” said the visiting celebrity. “I don’t,” said ’Old Wafe,” and disappeared. And this anecdote always plasters a sweetly reminiscent smile on our dial: Old Wafe” once went to a concert at which a soprano rendered, with more enthusiasm than artistry, the “Mad scene” from “Lucia.” He suffered for a time in silence, then: “ I can stand it no more, ’ said “Old Wafe.” “it gets my aria,” and passed out. By special request further imperishable aphorisms from the ample aphoreum of “ Old Wafe ” will appear in this column come Michelmas. A contributor who has been cruising among the classics and near-classics of the gramophone recordings provides the following strange, significant juxtapositions with appropriate comments: ‘Til Tell the Man in the Street How to Win Friends and Influence People “ Uncle Scrim ” will be interested. Dinner and Dance An Amazon Goes a Wooing Well, she certainly does it in style. I Saw Your Face in the Moon There’s a Gold Mine In the Sky Her fate is her fortune. He Never Slept a Wink All Night Hymie and Amy. Sing, Sing. Sing Maybe that’s why. The Count of Luxembourg (The Merry Peasant) Aristocracy of the working classes. Change Partners I Used to be Colour Blind We don’t like synthetic blondes, either! “Oh for ten for sevenpence that would last as • long as that one! ” pines a Gore correspondent, enclosing a clipping reporting that a fire in an hotel bar, to which the alarm was given at 2.14 a,m., was assumed to have been caused by a smouldering cigarette butt thrown on the floor of the bar before it was locked up just after 6 o’clock the previous evening. In truth it seems to have been a cigarette of enduring quality. But let our correspondent reflect, in his drought-ridden southern purgatory, that this was the true cigarette of a typical Dunedin citizen, and hence able to last for a long time when lit up in a bar room. The case for birth control: “Sir, your correspondent, ‘Alert’ should make sure of her facts before attempting to propagate on behalf of the Nationalist Party. ...” Athletic prowess as chronicled by a contemporary: “J. P distinguished himself in the under 13 events, jumpink 31ft Sin in the Hop, Step and Jump, and 14ft 9in in the Broad Jump.” Evidently in the pink of jumping condition. “Ocean Giants Well Guarded.” Including, we hope, the Cook Strait monster.