NAPOO.

Observer, Volume XL, Issue 11, 15 November 1919, Page 3

NAPOO.

Ryebuck, Bonser, Etc

IT is regretted that one is about to offend many people who imagine that the daily papers are written in "English pure and undefiled." There never was any such English, and if any British person wishes to prove it, he has only to listen to an American professor exuding what he believes to be standard English in an Auckland hall. A potted Johnson ene time attacked the unfortunate Briton who writes this, variation of the language, and accused him of setting down in those columns words that, when read, appeared to the potted Johnson ungrammatical!

The person had said at that time that any sound made by the human mouth, wherever it was made, was worthy to be heard. The British person living in the place his forefathers have inhabited, with perfect naturalness, uses, words suggested to his senses by local conditions. Any great event has resulted in the coining of new words —even though local sub-editors may be haughtily unconscious of the variations of a language of which they alone know anything. * * • In proof of what one means, it is suggested that no local journalist with a perfectly good Sixth Standard pass, has ever been allowed to say that "Mr. Albert Glover made a bonser speech," or that " Mr. Charles Poole was out on his own," or that "Mr. James Gunson (0.8. E.) butted in and made a good show." The reason is that the language is the language used by the common people, the people who do the jobs in New Zealand, and who are responsible for the billets of the persons who are not at all sure about their aitches, and still rule the people. • • • Relative to the dropping of the insistent aitch, writer remembers a wicked old baronet who, among other things, was a general with a V.C., who never used an aitch if he could avoid it. He deliberately avoided convention, and spoke precisely as his adoring Devonshire labourers spoke. He was very wrong, one knows—but Sir Alexander was himself, and no one else—and he did what.he liked. • ■ • • Lately there has been published a book by Cassel that is to contain many of the words coined under local conditions by soldiers in the field. No doubt much spondulicks, gonce, brass, oof, hoot, stuff, and other coin has been spent on the production, but it will be a top-hole chit when they're through with it. Napoo the dud editor, anyway? Sort him out and biff him to leg! Pour him out on his pink ear and put it to him that he's done it in, and give him the chat to get out. What did he do in the Great War, anyhow? Did he swing the lead? Not on your life!—but he was stelenbosched all the same. We put it to you—was he a Brass Hat, or a Lily. If he was, your job is to turn him down.

Take politics. There's Bill Massey and Joe .Ward, both blokes who know that the coves who put them in must be their cobbers. If their cobbers won't stick to 'em—what about it? They'll be emptied out on their lugs. What about the other coots —the birds that are trying to do in the Government? Do they jerry the situation? If they don't cotton on, what's wrong with their nappers?— pretty thick in the hide —what ?

Take it from me things is only middling in Noo Zealand. There s plenty of graft now, but don't you forget it, there's going to be a shortage of yakker before the games through. Blokes ia too fond of doing in their dough on the trots, and rushing after skirts and doing their nut for a donah. Strike me pink, it's the limit—not half! See what they done in Wellington—gave a bloke six months' stretch for woodening out a trap—just gave him a clotch and stiffened him quick and lively. Tore the clobber clean off him, and put him to sleep. I asks you, is it a fair deal? • * * Take the boose —what's the heads going to do about it? So help me bob, it's putrid. Are we a-going dry or are we to carry on? You can search me I Tell me and I'll come to light. It's like this:—A bloke puts it to me that a cove came to him with a yarn that a coot had told him that a bird said the game was goosed. Napoo the blinking blighters! Most of them are duds, and the rest skites—-and what's left over are doing the eye-wash stunt— take it from me. I'm fed up—full to the blooming gizzard. If I can pull the Government's leg for a job : I'm on. If not —mafeesh, sakabona, foetsak, you schelm!

As a matter of fact, English IS undergoing a change if those subeditors could only obtain permission to notice it! And, thanks, Cassel (one will give you an extra "1" if you insist on being English).