Shaun’s Patch.

Southland Times, Issue 18963, 9 June 1923, Page 9 (Supplement)

Shaun’s Patch.

“A Little Nonsense Now and Then.”—Hudibras.

It is peculiar that some people should be able to dismiss naval defence with an airy wave of the hand. Those in Britain who oppose the new naval base plead economy, in other words sing a poor song. The discussion between the Prime Minister and Sir Joseph Ward has now settled comfortably into cross-purposes, with graceful and almost imperceptible movements from the taxation of individuals to the taxation of companies. To save time I suggest that the Speaker should call all bets off and refer any points in dispute to the president of the S.R.F.U., who is now almost free of troubles with the Referees’ Association. Now don’t whatever else you do, Get panicky about the ’flu, Remember ere in dumps you’re cast— The epidemic moveth fast. King Khama, of Bechuanaland, died recently at the age of 100. He was a prohibitionist, so the Alliance will please pigeonhole his case as an instance of what can be done on water. Many people who make counterfeit prescriptions in U.S.A., get counterfeit drink for them, so I suppose it about balances in the end. A New York barber has looted a bank of 600,000 dollars. Still trimming! Behind his lofty compost heap My neighbour heth fast asleep, So fast that never will he wake s Till Gabriel's top C doth break. He lieth there, cold clay on clay.— He only shuffled off to-day— And I’m at peace, I’m happy quite, I know he won’t come home at night, And tear the apart With roars from his old bubble-cart. The Bishop’s missing from his house, Where site his very worried spouse, But all his friends will search in vain Unless they try the old park drain, For there all doubled is the bish., Whose light I snuffled with a swish Ing blow from my new putter. The poor old fellow used to stutter. And on the green it was too hard To get his score down on the Our minister has gone away! They’ll find him almost any day Beneath the grandstand on the course. I put him there without remorse The other night, for he had been To Rugby Park and there had seen The Stars and Blues in combat locked. I beaned him then, ’cos I was shocked To hear the rascal chiming in: “Oh, well, the Stars deserved their win.” They are evidently taking special steps to get rid of the weevil whicn has appeared in Queensland, if one can judge from these headings which appeared recently in the Sydney Morning Herald:— QUEENSLAND COTTON. SPIRITUAL HEALING MISSION. MINE OWN PEPYS. June 2.—A cold morning and I did rise lingeringly. A brief sojurn with Sara Teasdale’s “Love Songs,” which I found very amorous and then to Rugby Park, where I < did see Star, aided by an International, throw the Blues into the discard. At eve to an Orphanage, and there did find the inmates in happy mood and so home to my wigwam. June 4.—Early abroad to celebrate the birthday of his Maj. King Geo. V., whom we revere. Did team some of the mystic rites of the mashie and after feeding to Rugby Park, whereat I did see the Eastern District suffer defeat in huge lumps, and did next note pleasant smiles on the faces of the S.R.F.U., which I did associate with the results of a breezy meeting on Saturday. In this I later learn that I am in error —that it was the fine display given by the backs which doth cause the happiness. June s.—Heaved out early on a frosty morn by Mrs Shaun, who taketh me feverishly to the links and then doth play me. I to win rather comfortably, whereby my place in mine own home is confirmed and Man is vindicated. I begin to feel that my spade may be forgotten in the golf fever, and am comforted. June 6. —Again the thermometer plhys it low and I rise without pleasure, finding it extremely chilly in looking for a sock which has been moved from its wonted spot. I to chide my household, particularly my daughter, who answereth rude in some speech which I am unable to translate, and so my reprimand destroyed, to my chargin. I shall hang up foot-singlets in future. I learn that the discussion on timekeeping is fortunately closed. June 7.—Up betimes and did -have a rare chase after my stud. Then to my golf tutor, with whom I did execute many attractive swings, striking the ball at least three times, possibly four. At night I to learn that at the dissecting of music some High School boys did * whistle in the operating theatre, a woeful insult to Art. June B.—Again frost and I do murmur profanities concerning the lack of temperature. Ito ask Mrs Shaun why it is that my daughter doth delight to poke her fingers in mine eyes on cold frosty mornings. At this she laugheth merrily though I did not intend it to be humorous. I spend the morning seeking the joke in this matter, but find that the point eludeth me. To my stint and my diary and so to see the last late Friday out and to drcam of £9OOO making ready to return to town next week.

One of the modern forms of lying: Will the person who * was seen taking .. . etc. • • • • • My Invercargill friends who talk about too much education being made available, will be pleased with the peer in the Old Dart who recently declared that the only result he could see from fifty years of public education was that naughty words were scribbled a foot lower on his front doorl From all I can hear the Dunedin Winter Show was an immense success. The amount of educative work put in by the Southland farmers during their stay in the Oatmeal Capital was tremendous but I can see one departure necessary for the next outing; visiting cockies must be given a series of lectures in Art. The need for this was made apparent in one hotel when, in the wee sma’ ’oors, a farmer free the south was discovered at the foot of one of the statues which adorn the hostelry striking matches and saying: “But, my dear madam, could you please tell me where I can find room seven?” Was Mrs S. Broadcasting? “Don’t tell me the women are not up-to-date (writes a Bluff man). On Tuesday Mrs B. had gone to an ‘afternoon’ and had not returned when I got home from the office at 5 p.m. Thought I would give her a pleasant surprise so put the bacon on for tea. It was frizzling nicely and 1 was busy thinking out a nice cutting greeting when the wife arrived—She took the wind out of my sails by saying: ‘Oh I’m cold! I’ve been ‘listening in’ to Mrs & at her gate I for the last hour! Look how you’ve let I the fat splutter all over the dean range. ’ I’ve been wondering what Mrs B. told her husband. I’ll ask him, * • • • • Thus writes a man who considers himself a friend: Dear Shaun.—l came across the following problem recently. Praps some of your readers may like to spend a few minutes over it . Am quite sure it would keep the office boy out of mischief for at least five minutes—“ln a six mile race, after laming the starting flag, the white and the black racing cars, going in opposite directions on a mile track, met seven times. Both cars went at their respective top speeds the entire distance. A snapshot taken of the cars before the race was half over shows both cars at the four furlong directly opposite the starting line. From that data we are expected to figure the distance by which the winner won.”

Until it has been decided who is to go to the Imperial Conference, I decline to commit myself in this matter —but anyone who has the answer lying about the house may send it in and no qusstions will be asked.

THE ADVENTURES OF PHILEMON. On the Footpath. J Of late just to obtain a little peace | I did enroll myself with the police, Determined to display my noble feet In dignified parade about the street. J You know I’ve found much joy can bo obtained In moving folk along and seeing chained The wheels of carts, a motor by the path Whose owner its three lamps forgotten hath. ’Tis fine the busy street to walk along And watch the movements of the happy throng, \ To intervene and cause mucli consternation By “moving-on” some eager conversation. But best of all, when night’s soft shadows steal Across the town, to walk on. rubbered heel And capture, giving him an awful fright, The cove who bikes along without a light, Or in the day, to gaily leap from hiding And pounce on those who do their footpath riding. This is an art, but when you’ve got the knack, You’ll find of cases you need never lack, While soon whenever folk your figure see They’ll surely skip with great alacrity. One afternoon, perhaps a week ago, I was parading dignified and slow, Upon the street that hath the name of Dee> When my keen eyes a tramway chap did see With bike upon the busy footpath wheeling I felt a rush of vigour o’er me stealing And, all the by-laws coursing through my head, I did accost the man and finnly said: 4 “You know my man—now don’t make a pretence That in this thing you sin in innocence— You are committing a most grave offence Against the law, which says in language clear No bicycle must e’er be wheel-ed here! Therefore desist, and pray remove the same Or in my note-book I will put your nama ” This bold offender, scotty I could see, With fiery eye did put his gaze on me, For but an instant. Then his eye did melt Until quite friendly to the lad I felt. “Good sir,” quote he, in tones that were as mild As any I have heard come from a child, “Do those great by-laws, which you have by rote And which with so much dignity you quote, Declare that there’s offence, if I do like To carry on my shoulders this my bike?” Here was I stumped! And, boss, I couldn’t place A section to apply to such a case, And so I answered him, as he deferred To me, on this the by-laws enid no word. "All right,” said he, and with an impish grin For which I would have liked to run him in, He raised the bike and giving me "Goodday!” He carried it and sweetly went his way. And as he passed the wheel of that machine Did brush my uniform, which I keep clean, And left upon the arm a muddy streak. As hurtful, boss, it was as if a tweak He had impressed upon my lordly nose— That last insult imprinted on my clo’s, So do not tell the force a word, my master Of this, which was a terrible disaster.