BY THE WAY.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 17832, 28 April 1926, Page 8

BY THE WAY.

SOME REFLECTIONS AND COLLECTIONS, (By One of the Boys). The National Council of Women, With brains are certainly brimmin’. Many words they have bandied Over children who are left-handed. « « Mr Winston Churchill, By dint of search ’ill, Increase the Budget From bookies who grudge it. » » She was pretty and she had confidence. With dainty foot on the accelerator, daintier hands on the wheel, she swung through the traffic. She missed a tram by inches, made an old man forget he ever had rheumatics, made a couple of younger men glad they had not got it, scraped the fender of a heavy six. and then to the intense relief of the motor inspector at her side, she turned down a side street. “Stop, madam! Stop!” he gasped. Next second he was flattened against the wind screen. She had stopped. The inspector picked himself up, and regarded the lady. “ You want a certificate of ability to drive, do you? Well, firstly, yoiir idea of steering is rotten, and your judgment of distance is farcical. You don’t know the first thing about gear changing, and your ignorance of ordinary traffic signals is appalling. You drive too fast, and you are not supposed to skid the wheels when you want to stop.’’ The fair applicant looked hurt for a second, but soon recovered, and smiled sweetly. “ Apart from that, I suppose I am otherwise 0.K.?” 6he said. It doesn’t pay to appear drunk while in charge of a motor-car these days. It cost an Auckland man £IOO recently, and has cost quite a number of local men many pieces of eight. Last evening a taxi-man approached the city and his caution urged “ safety first.” He had had a hard day with a couple of stock buyers and you know what stock buyers are, so he turned down a suburban side street for a short nap to shake off the effects. Soon he was asleep and the next thing he knew was finding himself in the full glare of the local constable's torch. “ Not drunk. I hope,’’ said the policemen suspiciously. " Certainly not.” “ Then how is it you are asleep?” The taxi-man was now quite recovered. “ I don't know, unless perhaps I ran into one of those bedtime stories they broadcast,” he suggested. Thus yells an Auckland grocer: “The housewife says ‘oh! no, sir! ‘I want my cash 'To cut a dash—‘To make a splash—‘Now, don’t be rash— Your bill will have to grow, sir.” & s$ “The Wicked Grocer Groces,” bracing himself briskly against recent ruses of racers resorting to racing to raise the sugar to pay the sugar owed for sugar.