The ODD ANGLE

Auckland Star, Volume LXXIII, Issue 125, 29 May 1942, Page 4

The ODD ANGLE

(By MacCLURE)

• HE GOT PAII) Now that the woolgrowers are getting that extra few boo a clip they will not be amiss to paying out a little extra to their shepherds—we hope. Sheepmen have not always been pood payers. Take that time we coaxed Feeble to get a job herding sheep. "We can do with the money," we told him. Feeble wasn't so keen. He took it, but—that was the last we saw of the ancient one for two weeks. Finally we set off to conduct a search for him. Now read on: We found the farm—7oo acres, mostly bush. On it we found a rough bach, and in it some gear of Feeble's—but no body. There were signs of a violent struggle, lamp upset, chair knocked over and stuff all over the shop. A neighbour said ne'd "heard yells," and another vhought he saw someone dragging someone along the road very late one night. Like bloodhounds we combed every mile, inquired at every farm. It was useless. Finally, our coal exhausted, we came home, "Do you see what I see?" old Alf asked. Looking through the window, I saAv Feeble—and something else. You never saw anything like it outside of the pages of the Bulletin. "Who's your cobber?" 1 asked. "Cocky I oeen working for," be replied. "I couldn't get any wages out of him so I dragged him home here. I'm going to torture him till he shells out." The Hairy One moaned. ' I tell you I got no money—none at all," he whined piteously. "Come on, strip off," Feeble commanded. True enough, sewn inside his singlet he had enough notes to pay off the national debt. Unstitching them, Feeble started to count them. "First, there's our fare, dragging you here— that's worth a tenner. Then there's that sandwich 1 bought you at Mercer—say two quid. Then my fortnight's wages—another twenty. And, er, sundries, say a fiver." He handed the rest back to the Hairy One. Grabbing his clothes, the old cocky made a flying leap and was off like a hare. "And now I think he's done me for a dollar," Feeble said. "He's probably headed for the police station," I suggested. "Not with his record he isn't," Feeble grinned. "The jokers down there reckoned if I got paid I'd be the first one."

• THAT " PROPHECY." I have just had a postcard reminder from a very angry correspondent who informs me that "that darn silly prophecy of yours about the Germans being 'either all dead or out of Russia by May 27 ' was just so much bunk." Absolutely, my dear aggrieved one — the only tiling you forgot is that MacClure didn't make that one — he merely published it just as he received it from a lady correspondent, who added: "And please spare my blushes and do not publish my name." Incidentally, as you'll remember, she feared she was casting "pearls before swine." Well, she wasn't exactly on the pig's back, as it happened; neither did she bring home the bacon, although she hogged quite a lot of publicity over that "bum steer," as our Amurrican cousins would have termed her "prophecy." But — supposing we give her a few days grace? Besides, she didn't say which May 27—there have been several in recent years, you know — and there'll be more. The only thing that worries me is someone of us may not last till the next the way Peter is hustling us into uniform these days. He never used to be like that.

• A SIMPLE PI.AV It was a very simple proposition.] If I remember' rightly, I suggested I that, instead of keeping the same lads in the army year in and year out, and completely tiring them out, we should have a change-over every six months, say, and the fellows now in jobs essential, Mbmbers, radio controllers, carpenters, wharfies. well-to-do sons of the influential families, conchies, and so on, should give it a go, releasing the present crowd to take over their jobs. That way the lads in uniform would get a spell as well as have an opportunity of dragging down some big money while the others would get a taste of adventure; a change from their present laborious labours; the realisation that there's a war on and they are in it. Besides, they'd get away from their wives for a spell, dodge pa3'ing income tax. and in addition the country could then claim that "every man in the Dominion is trained in the use of arms." Everybody would be happy —except you, of course. But that wouldn't matter. Or would it?

• MY IDEA Future historians will, without doubt, devote many volumes to explaining — to their own satisfaction —exactly how it came about that Hitler's Germany rose in less than a decade to the position she is in today. What, the other volumes will tell of I have not the faintest —only time will tell. You and I might figure in one for even more) of those volumes — although that isn't so likely. But our kids -will—Peter Fraser will — Paddy Webb will — and so will Bob. And that's something. I said I mightn't, and yet, if there is any justice in the world, I think those future historians should mention that a little earlier in the piece I made a "startling proposal" (that's what they called it in their official reply) which, if it were acted upon, would completely alter everything—in this country, anyhow.