Shaun’s Patch

Southland Times, Issue 21177, 2 September 1930, Page 6

Shaun’s Patch

A little nonsense now and then Is ralished by the wisest men. —Hudihras.

So the American film makers are not going to boycott the New Zealand market. Well, nothing is ever as good or as ill as the first report. * # » . » . But. I confess I received the threat without the flicker of an eyelid. * * * • « A Paris widow, following the new fashion, has the initials of her four deceased husbands on four finger nails of the left hand. The cable message adds: The other two tips are significantly vacant. . . It strikes me that one vacant tip would have been warning enough. . *#* - * Black or Maroons, Maroons or Blacks— We’ve got forwards, they’ve got backs. Maroons or Blacks, Blacks or Maroons— Reputation will often go pop like balloons.. '** * M Depression is given as the cause of the revolutionary movements in the South American republics. Well, -why complain or be anxious? Surely the South American js entitled to a little pleasure now and again. We have our football matches. George Bernard Shaw, instead of speaking at the Labour Summer School at Malvern, gave an exhibition of swimming and high diving. I don’t know much about Shaw’s ability as a diver; but his publicity is first class. *** . # A cynic reading’ the heading “Marriage of the Blind” asked: “Is there any other sort of marriage?” * * EDUCATIONAL AIDS. ''' H.L. sends me: Give a sentence containing the word “biennial.” “He got what he wanted biennial legal method at all.” * * * * ■ I hate to be pessimistic, but I do think wars can be conducted at much less cost in future if the nations take the trouble to dispose of the sound picture rights to an American firm. One does not expect startling experiences riding along Kelvin street, but the other day I beheld a sign: HELL vice Here. My consternation did not permit me then to discover that part of a building was in the way. * * * # A GOLF PROBLEM. I met a lady on the links Who walked wjth downcast eyes She gazed on every yard of rough In every dip and rise, No golfer with such modest mien I’ve ever seen upon a green. And as she walked without a word I understood it all: She was engaged in sad pursuit Of some long hidden ball— I was quite sure she walked to peer For traces of a missing sphere Within me chivalry is quick As in an olden knight And so with lifted hat I asked If in the search I might With courteous male persistence Give to her assistance. An anguished face she raised to mine— The ills of life are ruthless — For I discovered, with a shock, 1 The downcast maid was toothless. It seems that she —unhappy fate!— Had somehow lost her dental plate. Wise books on golf I’ve often read, The proper grip and stance But never how a golfer should Meet such a grave mischance, Or what ruse Bobby Jones would try In the teeth of this unhappy lie.