SPINDRIFT.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 16738, 20 May 1922, Page 8

SPINDRIFT.

Readers are invited to send in original topical paragraphs or verses for this column, which is a daily feature of the “ Star.” Accepted contributions should be cut out by the writers and forwarded to the Editor, who will remit the amounts payable. The Brisbane doctors are alj mystified over the reported brain disease. Some fear that it may be due to eating ba n a n as.—Cab 1 e. Oh. sonny, do be cautious; Be careful what you eat. Don’t overfeed on porridge. Or stuff yourself with meat. A different kind of danger May lurk in every dish; There’s typhoid in potato, Dyspepsia in fish. The juicy ripe banana. The Queensland doctors say. Throughout the land is taking Its deadly toll each day. Beware ! though it is tempting. It can but lead to pam, And you will find you’re catching Diseases of the brain. Don’t dine on ripe cucumber. For indigestion’s there; And onions bring gastritis. So turn aside with care. The bread that you are eating Will shortly lay you out. And you will find your cabbage Has brought on flu’ and gout. Since all food has its danger, The moral, then, is clear — Avoid the tempting dainty, For death is lurking near. One course alone of safety Y r ou’ll find, whate’er befall: If one would flee from sickness. One must not eat at all ! In view of the large crowds who watched the recent New York manhunt, and of the immense interest displayed, there is talk of getting up a repeat performance, for the benefit of charity.

A speaker at the Pastures Board Convention sympathised with the cattlemen, who were getting about Id per pound for their meat, which was selling in the shops at 10d. Asked for an explanation yesterday, Mr Cutlett, a leading butcher, express ed surprise at the remark. ” Surely the speaker must know,” he said. ‘‘ that a profit of 900 per cent is simply not to be thought of in the meat trade—Boo per cent is the most I can honestly take. No. the explanation lies, not in profiteering, but in the fact that the pounds we give our customers are so liberal that it takes ten ordinary pounds to make them up. Oh, yes.” I see the Christchurch Presbytery :s looking now askance at light fantastic jollity, and cries: “ Off with the dance.” The modern dance, they say is bad, and quickly leads to worse; although it is the latest fad, still dancing is a curse. The common foxtrot isn’t nice, the one-step should not be; to grip your partner like a vice does not lend dignity. It was not so in days of old; the dance was modest then; when maids were shj’ and knights were bold, and jazz unknown to men. They danced the stately minuet, in those old days afar; and man and maiden never met, unless with pa or ma. Perchance they in the lancers pranced, or polka-ed with a will; and as a special treat they danced the stately, slow quadrille. The dancing people of to-day are making protests all : they say that modern dancing gav contains no harm at all. To prove the stateipents that they write, they make a challenge free; for thus the parsons they invite: “ Come, come and dance with me. We’ll gladly teach you how to jazz, helped by the gramaphone: and show that modern dancing.has a beauty of its own. We’ll cheer you up; come one, come all, and then you’ll really know.” This then, to parsons is the call; I wonder if they’ll go? VOICES OF THE TIMES. ’Tis the voice of the Doctor I hear him complain “ You are really too hearty. Just sicken again, For mumps or the measles Or mild gravel-rash Which will yield to long treatment. And bring me the cash.” ’Tis the voice of the Dentist. Who says with a grin, “ Your front teeth are agoing; Why still keep them in ? I have a small forceps I keep for my use In prising sound molars 1 want to come loose.” ’Tis the voice of the Barber. I hear him declare, “ You really are faced With a shortage of hair. Just try my hair tonic, ’Twill make your hair grow In wildest profusion— Two guineas, you kuow.” ’Tis the voice of the Butcher. I hear him explain That beef, lamb and mutton Have risen again ; And he leers at me fatly Whenever we meet,* As he drives his Rolls-Royce Along Manchester Street. These voices, these voices, They murder my sleep; They haunt me in waking They make my flesh creep. Till oft I am tempted To end my life’s run By a little sharp shot From my little shotgun. But just as I’m tempted, I hear the low voice Of the grim Undertaker, Who seems to rejoice As he murmurs in accent* Of grief and of pain That prices for funerals Have risen again. A small hoy caused a panic in the Japanese Diet by dropping a snake from the gallerv on to the floor of the Lower House. This is creating a dangerous precedent, and if pronrnt steps are not taken to avert it. throwing reptiles and the smaller mammals at members of Parliament may become n popular pastime. Still one cannot help envying the small boy; he must have had a glorious time watching the effect of his little experiment. “ A Pulp Trust.”- -Newspaper heading. This is what all trusts should be reduced to. A woman wants a hat that is different from any other woman’s- A man wants a hat just like all the other men are wearing. “Whether the weather he fine, or whether the weather he not. Whether the weather he cold, or whether the weather be hot. We must weather the weather, whatever the weather, Whether we like it or not.” A forward pass is never successful until it is in the hands of a receiver. «TNBAI>.