CURRENT COMMENT

Taranaki Daily News, 11 May 1935, Page 13 (Supplement)

CURRENT COMMENT

.OTHER POINTS OF VIEW.

(By

M.O.S.)

It is stated by a scientist who was a member of the Byrd expedition that bacteria have been discovered in the Polar snows. The Nitwit suggests that they, must have been cold germs.

A once wealthy racehorse owner is selling matches in the streets of London. At least the poor fellow’s experience has put him in a position to give light to others.

After a super-pumpkin competition at Waitara Road we are told on rehabje press authority that pumpkins as a medium of entertainment for the, masses are coming into the public eye. This seems altogether better than tomatoes coming into the entertainer s eye. “Tricks” Younger, self-confessed crook, the man “who knows the underworld from'A to Z and baqk again, is forget- * ting the whole alphabet, and is through with :crime. His’ decision -was reached after a long spell in prison,. ■ • ■' * . * , * .On October. 4, 1822, thirty-four persons / were herded in a Sydney dock, and sentenced to death. There is no other rei cord of the hangings for that year; but it is known that strangles reached a peak. Noose South Wales. ; ' • ' y.» The death is reported from Vienna of Frau Wilhelmine Hofbauer, a niece of Schubert, whose career, it is said, “formed the substance of much of her conversation.” Bui does it not .seem an uneconomic arrangement that the composer,: with so much to say, should die at 31, whiU the woman who, repeated herself should live to 92? * • * Changing Time. ‘The Misogynist has lost his last shred of -faith in the Sex. We found him m a state of deep dejection the other day, huddled over ■ a crumpled newspaper. “Queen Mary,” he said, /always struck me as a woman who would not bow down to the degenerate influences of modem times. But here I read that, at the JUbilee Celebrations, she wore, not a toque, but , a turban!” < * • * The Public Spirit. The Tame Poet, poor fellow, was recently crossed in love wifh .Ameba Gannett, and has become permanently embittered. He went off for a rest cure to his Uncle Ebejiezeris fasm in the MungiX waitoko Valley the. other , day, but crawled - back with the libellous rustic doggerel printed below, arriving at midnight, on Wednesday. I was an upright farmer* Quite- content with milkin cows An’ I hadn’t no ambition Ter git mixed in county rows Till T ’eard that Dan O’Tooley ’Ad ther ’ide ter go. , Per th’ council an’ , the rabbit board. It’s fit ter; beat ther band! Now that same coot, Dan O’Tooley W’en me bound’y fence was down Turned ’is pigs “to me lucerne On ther day I went ter town. Though it ’appened fifteen years ago Tin durned- if I’ll fergit, ’E said I stole ’is porkers . . Overlook: it? Not a bit! So w’en young Bill Moloney (Who’s a goodfemothin’; too) ' Ups and nominates ther ol galoot. What could i a feller do? “•w’v stand,” I says, “an’ beat ’im.” W’ich I done. An’ that’s ther coreIn fac’ ther inside ’istory _ ‘ Of wot made me councillor. * Cosmetic Warfare. . • . Ever since the report of the Paris women’ who attacked the police with powder puffs the Sob Sister has been a new woman. She fears neither her income tax nor the Editor, and strides about after njghtfall with an air of,confident The.other day we found her in the office and hardly recognised her suffused countenance.. ’ “Dear S-Sister,” we said shading our eyes from the glow, “Surely you are not anrioyed?” /Out of the flaming expanse one gimlet eye slewed slowly round and.bored past out tonsils. “If that Nitwit makes another pun, it is his last word,” said a voice like pork crackling. Unfortunately the Nitwit overheard the remark and, confusing the temperature of the air with another record fall on Mt. Egmont, said fatuously, “You would not pun-ish me would you, S-Sister?” Adding as he engulfed a roasted peanut. “I might almost become a Nutwit!” “Heavens,”, gasped the stricken woman. Then she took action. Full at fhe Nitwit she flung a bottle of astringent and, horror-struck, we watched him steadily shrink from a potential rival of th.e fabulous Waitara Road pumpkins to a mere, distinctly niere, man. Seizing his hair with her eyebrow tweezers the Sob Sister flung him to and fro as the ocean liners throw, our leading politicians., As he crashed against - the telephone, she gummed him to it with a great dollop of cold, cream. The air grew white with powder and the only sound was that of the Sob Sis er puffing and the Nitwit tearing himself off the telephone. Suddenly there was a scream of terror that made one of our athletic vertebrae leap frantically over another. Through the white mist we saw the Sob Sister shaken her nail file, and shopt forward at the end of it. After a short period we opened our eyes. There was the Nitwit lying on the .floor with a great crimson gash pcross his temple. The Sob Sister was quietly working on her story about the dogs jubilee.game at the park. “S-Sister,” we stuttered., “What shall we do with the local body?” “Lipstick!” explained the Sob Sister briefly. “I missed him with the nail file.”

'" It Is estimated that two young people between the ages of sixteen ana twenty-one go to "risen every day In Great Britain because they are unable to pay the fines. During a round-up of game at Babolnapuszta, Hungary,, a hare bearing a brass ticket on its ear was shot. According to the ticket the hare was set free near Berlin in 1931. The hare is believed to'have crossed the Danube last winter when the river wa- frozen, and in less than four years to have traversed three countries and dressed a range or mountain; . ' , ■■< •