BY THE WAY.

Star (Christchurch), Volume LXVI, Issue 20221, 3 February 1934, Page 13

BY THE WAY.

Some Collections and Reflections. BY ONE OF THE BOYS. To-day the Wellington bowlers play the Christchurch bowlers for the Barnett Tiki. Afterwards there will be a mere party. The Hitler salute is not too popular with the Jewish race. New Zealand had only one Jewish motorman, and now there is none. He refused to stop the tram when anyone held up their right hand. Once upon a Time there was a Labour Party who Sat on the Bank and Watched the Citizens’ Rugby Team Battling with the Depression Rovers for the Tramway Cup. How they Yelled: “Why Don’t you Try the Cheap Fare Scrum Formation ? ” and “ Get More Free Kicks and Less Free Passes,” and “ Too Many Inspectors in the Team,” and “ Get Back your Old Players.” After a Time the Labour Party Got Tired of Sitting on the Bank. They Entered a Team. They Tried the Cheap Fare Formation. Other People Sat on the Bank and Yelled. ‘‘lt would be Nice,” said Archer, the captain, “ To Still have our Team and still be Able to Sit on the Bank too.” “ A Wonderful Idea,” said Teddy Howard, ‘‘but How?” “Easy,” said Archer. “We have our Team and Now we will have a Commission. Then we will Sit on the Bank The flaps of the pie cart parted and a head appeared. “Do you sell oysters?” came the inquiry. Ham drew himself up and snorted. “ This is a pie saloon,” he said. “ It’s no fish cart.” The head went and Ham turned to me. “ Gosh! ” he said, and breathed heavily. “ Gosh! No! I have not descended to selling oysters. A man who buys a pie off of me gets one hundred per cent food. Carbohydrates in the crust, proteins, in the steak, and vitamins in the onions, with sauce and a cup of coffee thrown in. What is an oyster? Ninety-nine per cent water and not a good chew in a dozen. Eat a pie and you get the imprisoned sunshine of the golden grain, the red blood of sturdy bullocks—he men’s food; but an oyster has no backbone. A lazy, lifeless thing—only found in a bed.” “ But they say oysters are good for you,” I put in. “Who say so? Why, the town folk that send them to us. That’s why they called it—Bluff.”