£ s. d.

Bay of Plenty Beacon, Volume 10, Issue 37, 14 October 1946, Page 5

£ s. d.

CASH CRISIS (DIS) CUSSED ECONOMIC ENIGMA ATTACKED (By Yoo-hoo) (Straight from the stirring pen of Yoo-hoo we have again acquired solar system copyright at a fabulous figure, of a sensational scoooooop. We cannot delay with introductory notes; the price demanded by Yoohoo for each word of the following article is so vast that every mortal one must be used immediately at least twice, in order to make it- an economic propbsition. Here is the tale as told by Yoo-hoo (who has temporarily forgotten how to read and write) to our new automatic journalist—a marvellous piece of modern mechanical engineering):— Deep in a dark and dripping cavern reached by a secret tunnel leading through one of the Borough water mains; (hey, wait a minute, we’re not paying for that paragraph again. We bought it twice over last week!) five cloaked and hooded figures and one in a dressing gown and hood whisper conspiratively in a circle. Yoo-hoo enters similarly clad (in cloak and hood), and picking up a spare hand (five aces), raises the stakes. He loses heavily to Dressing Gown who holds five aces all of the same suit. The leader flings down his hand.

“What are you doing about my cloak?” growls Dressing Gown to the leader. “You got me the hood, but that’s not enough, I want more now. If I don’t get my cloak I’ll write to the Union.”

“All right, all right,” says the leader, emptying the soap out of a nearby box and turning it over to stand on. “Don’t rush things. If you handle it right you’ll get everything you want; that’s if you vote right at the election.”

Dressing Gown looks annoyed under his hood (Yoo-hoo has X-ray eyes) but remains silent. “Now,” says the leader, stepping up on to his box and getting his hair tangled in the fly-paper. ‘-‘Now then. We are the Labour Party, Whakatane branch of, and I declare herewith that I am the leader. Everybody in favour etc., carried. Now to business. To exhort votes for this ’ere election” (the leader raises his hat; Yoo-hoo does likewise) “we are spending a colossal amount on advertising, the means for’ which to pay we possesseth not.” “That’s all right Joe, we won’t pay,”, interjects No. 3. “Don’t call me Joe,” says the leader, exasperated. “For one thing you’re not supposed to be able to recognise me under my hood even though it has got a hole in it, and for another I’m not Joe. He’s Joe” (indicating No. 4). “Now, back to business. Anybody got any bright ideas how to make the piggy bank jingle again, to put it crudely?” “We might try all the local citizens for a ‘touch’ ” suggests Dressing Gown. “No good. Tried it myself last night and got. picked up. Had to spend the night in clink again.” “Then what about doing something after the style of this “Eastern Follies” show what was here a few nights ago? We could get up a few turns and call the outfit “Labour Party Follies” says Dressing Gown. “Can you do anything?”

“Oh” (modestly) “I know a few jokes, and I can say a piece of poetry that starts ‘Twinkle, twinkle, little star’, and I sometimes hold my breath for 14 seconds.”

“Why?” “Oh,” replies Dressing Gown, “just for practise.” The leader looks unimpressed (through the hole' in the hood). “What about you?” he says suddenly swinging on Yoo-hoo.

“Who?” “You!” “Yoo-hoo, yoo-hoo,” Yoo-hoo, skilfully disguising his voice.

The leader looks unimpressed again.

“It’s no good I’m afraid,” he says. “We’ll just have to not pay after all.”

The remaindei : of the hoods take on a satisfied expression. (We hope next issue to reprint a candid photograph of the Editor’s expression upon reading the previous passage). “Anything else? O.K. then, bring on the coffee and ham sandwiches.” Yoo-hoo tarries a moment to swallow five cups of- coffee and a plate of sandwiches before seeping silently into the misty night, a bulge in his hip-pocket denoting the presence of six sheets of red hot cppy in an asbestos folder.