LONDON HUMOUR

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 85, Issue 47, 25 February 1941, Page 6

LONDON HUMOUR

DESPITE THE BLITZ “WHOP-PICKING” IN KENT “Another month of blitz—from Fritz and other words which rhyme therewitz! And all the time, in response to exhortations from all quarters, we've been doing some extaordinary antics,” writes a London business man to his agents in New Zealand. “We are 'going to,’ ‘sticking it’ and ‘staying put,' all at once. We 'grin and bear it,’ ‘we've set our teeth’ meanwhile keeping a ‘stiff upper lip.' With ‘our backs to the wheel,’ we are ‘not taking it lying down,’ which appears to me a far more comfortable ■position to ‘take it’—and ‘we can take it.’ At the same time you will note we have 'our shoulders to the wheel.’ ‘our hands to the plough,' 'our noses to the grindstone’ and ‘one ear to the ground.’ We've got our ‘heads up,’ ‘tails up,' ‘thumbs up.’ Heroes they call us—we're just a lot of blinking acrobats! "Quite recently the squadron-leader-of one of our famous fighter squadrons called for ‘volunteers for civilian life’—and there were no applicants! Here ara a few other stories of the month. A dear old lady, indignant at being bombed out of her home, was heard to remark that on ‘insanitary bomb’ had nearly blown her into eternity. A new bomber aeroplane was urgently required by the R.A.F. for a special objective in Berlin—the factory worked night and day on it, and finally delivered it just in time with the paint still wet on it. Off it went immediately to bomb Berlin; they got right, over the . target, opened .the bomb trap, and out tumbled the night shift! “A Few Rough Nights” “I tell you these yarns, not to amuse you, but to give you the spirit of old England to-day, which is the main purpose of these letters. If you came to London, you wouldn't think anything unusual was happening—the sirens go, and beyond a casual glance up to the sky, people just go on as before. Frequently, we don't know whether a raid is on or not—we just, don't care—in the day time. We've had a few rough nights, but not so many as before. Of course, some of our beloved landmarks have disappeared—you'll have read of them in the papers—but the debris is speedily tied up, and the traffic rumbles by as before.

"Production has gone up tremendously, since we introduced the ‘spotter’ system, under which the workers only take shelter when the ‘spotters' on the roof signal that danger is imminent. In Kingsway, we’ve gone one better—7s per cent, of the staff have volunteered to keep on at their jobs, no matter what warnings are given—we are just in the front line, and We’re going to stay at our posts. Other concerns are starting to do the same, and I hope that before long it will be universally adopted during the daytime. The spirit of our people is splendid—-it's unbeatable." In a second letter written early in December he states: "Whop-picking started in Kent, when a bunch of Wop raiders tried to emulate their distant (very distant) Roman ancestors. Like them, they came in wooden craft—very nice of them, as we were a bit short of wood at the time. Their landing, however, was involuntary—their occupation? Well, they’ve just resumed a waiting life. Nor do they lack for their native food—they’d brought it all with them. “Then our lads of the Fleet Air Arm whopped the Wop Navy at Taranto—‘Some damage to residential property,’ said the Wops, and thus gave a new name for their navy. The British Fleet drinks rum, the American prefers whisky, but the Italian Navy sticks to port. What a Slide.! "Meantime the Wops had set foot in grease—lumme, what a slide! 'Veni, vidi Vichy’ wired their general to Musso. Said Musso to Adolf, ‘Come over into Macedonia and help us.’ Anyway they’ve got Greece on their heels now and can’t shake it off—and I don't think they’ll want Turkey at Christmas. And now comes the news that the Wop Navy has again run back to port. Heil Wops—they hold the speed record both on land and sea. No longer shall they be called a race of waiters—they race but won’t wait. ‘See Naples and dive’ has been the slogan of our R.A.F. lads. Then Hitler got annoyed because our lads knocked out his favourite “pub” in Munich, and sent all his bombers to Coventry. These Nazis have no sense of humour and took it literally. Let me tell you the damage they did to cathedral, shops and houses is a small thing compared with its effect on our men and women—■ they are going to get their own backl believe me! Any way all our works were going strong within 24 hours—and they are going strong in Birmingham. too. We don't build armaments in churches and hospitals—if we did the damage might have been serious.

In old London the blitz still continues. as we've still a few churches left. Glass is scarce in some places, except in small pieces. "We have no panes, dear mother, now.” “And what’s the army doing? Shush, it's a secret—they are knitting comforts for the noor blinking civilians. Only recently a man went to his manager and proudly told him he had joined the army—‘You coward,’ said the manager! One of our lads in a German prison camp wrote, ‘We are being treated very kind—the food is ample and excellent. Please tell this to the army and the R.A.F., but above all, tell it to the Marines.' And the Nazis published it, as a proof of their kindness.”