ADVERTISEMENTS THAT GIVE PEEPS AT LIFE.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 18091, 26 February 1927, Page 27

ADVERTISEMENTS THAT GIVE PEEPS AT LIFE.

LONDON PRESS FULL OF DAILY MYSTERIES. (Special to the “ Star.”) LONDON, December 16. An historic advertisement appeared some years ago in the matrimonial column of a Melbourne daily paper to the effect that an ardent swain was desirous of meeting a “ woman of large build—knowledge of Geelong essential.” The addition of the magic words, “ View above,” proved that the intentions of the advertiser were strictly honourable; but what they were beyond this, or in what conceivable way a large build and a knowledge of Geelong could be a qualification for matrimon3% have forever remained a mystery. In London, perhaps more than in any other city in the world, the daily Press

is filled with mysteries such as these—paragraphs and advertisements, police court reports, little disconnected news items that can apparently have no conceivable explanation whatever. There are others —such as “Wanted: Respect-

bed during daytime ” —that conjure up scenes so naive that one can scarcely believe that they belong to real life at all. And even the inevitable “ Cheery gent, willing to complete Christmas party ” —-what manner of man is he? One can never know these things, any more than one can know whether the gallant of live years ago is to-day living happily at Geelong with his woman of large build. It is only recently that the London papers have taken to noticing minor police court cases which have no importance in themselves, but which throw a momentary spotlight on the lives of the submerged and the unknown. The man who, at three o’clock in the morning, met a “ down-and-out ” on Westminster Bridge and offered him 2s to jump into the river there and then “as an experiment ” has never, disclosed his identity; but his victim, after obtaining payment in advance, fulfilled his part of the contract and was fined 2s lid on the morning after he had pulled his bedraggled and halffrozen body ashore. To finish such a

desperate hazard by being sixpence on ! the wrong side of the ledger is irony J indeed. The reveller who, attired in a pith helmet, a cardboard nose and a pair of long side-whiskers, ejected the police officer on point duty at Marble Arch and for several minutes took over control of the traffic is a much more understandable individual; one feels that he deserved to be presented with the £5 which the exploit riltimately cost him. In cases such as these one has glimpses of mentalities not quite in the usual run, but in these snappy “Shorts from the Courts,” which so many papers publish now, there are disclosed not so jntieh personalities as whole lives. When a. dreary little stubblywhiskered man declared that “ My old woman has thrashed me every evening for 3-ears” it may or may not be extraordinarily amusing; or when a man sa\ r s that his wife has been “ Much easier to live with since she bit' her tongue off in a bus accident,” it may be a good joke, too. On the other hand, apart from the fatet that we have become accustomed to laugh at this sort of thing in the music-halls since time immemorial, it is diffictxlt to see how they are amusing at all. Yet again, the woman who acidly retorted to her husband’s remark that she had a face like a coal-scuttle, “ That's why you are always trying to shove the poker into it, I suppose,” showed a flicker of humour that at least to some extent overcame the sordidness of her story. One had an underlying feeling that these two, after all, might be the best of friends sometimes. But it is in the so-called “ Agony ” columns that there are the insoluble mysteries. “I am fed-up. If anyone will give me £20,000 I will devote the whole of the rest of my life entirely towards doing an 3 r thing whatever that the donor may ask of me. lam young, health}' - , and an Oxford graduate. What offers?” If an advertisement like this be genuine, as it probably is, there must surely be a story behind it stranger than 'fiction. “ I want a set of false teeth; terms must be moderate,” is plain sailing enough; but who, i« the name of heaven, are the anonymous well-wishers to humanity who so persistently land at considerable expense) insert such greetings as “ Cheerio, everybod}'! ” on the front page of “ The Times?” One would think that the satisfaction of seeing oneself in print could scarcely be carried to greater Jengths. Yet there is something pleasant. in the also anonymous insertion last Derby Day: " Ifullo, everybody! Some of you may back winners to-day.

but you’ll never make as good a bet as I did on my wedding day!" It is all very charming. And vet, reading down the column, one comes to ‘ Gentleman wishes to buy old tartan kilts. £)nce again the world becomes a mystery." _ _ [