POSTSCRIPTS

Evening Post, Volume CXIV, Issue 126, 24 November 1932, Page 12

POSTSCRIPTS

BY PERCY FLAGE

Chronicle and Comment

If our farmers succeed in getting pegged exchange, their next job will be to discover (or invent) a nice newgrievance. * » # ; Heading in our enlightened news columns: : ■ ANOTHER DEPRESSION. Anyhow, it can. scarcely be worse than the one now with us." * .. * * If you don't know why a collection of farmers did not drag Mr. Downie Stewart's car from the ship side to Parliament Buildings to-day, you can't be regarded as "up" on the exchange hullaballoo. • . . • SIZZLING SPEED.R.H.C. writes; How about adding thii to Postscript's list of records? ■ ' left London "Oth November for Wellington and Auckland; due Wellington 24th November. "Amy's got nothing on this," comments the sender. ' :■■■"■ '*'■'■ c ' * . ' ■'■•■■ NO SENSE OF PROPORTION. Can't you imagine the Minister-in-Charge of the egg industry fuming when he sees the exchange question flooding, the newspapers to the total exclusion of the Poultry Registration Bill, or whatever they call it? ■, * * * ■■ WE HEARD THE FIRST TIME. Dear Mr. Flage,—lt must be true that the Prime Minister predicted that nest year would be the most, difficult in the history of this country because the statement appeared four times la one issue of a contemporary of yours. M.T.P. Masterton. * * * THE VISION OF ME. VEITCH.' Six little Chinamen* sailing a canoe. ■, Bye-bye disarmament, League of Na- • tions, too. Six little Chinamen, paddling a canoe, Where's the N.Z. Array? Playing peek- . a-boo? '. . : She: little Chinamen, and only ONE canoe. " ■ Snakes and cats and beer and bats Can. such a thing be true? ■ F. L. A. P. DOODLE. *• * * THE BULGE IN THE, MILK. 'Phone call. "It's me . . .'Peter the Painter,' speaking. Whati. Yes. I've a 'follow-up' of that yarn of yours about an elderly cow that was all pins and needles and variegated ironmongery in her vitals. Yes. It's about milk . . . and the days when I used to be farming at a stupendous salary per week. Hullo? Are you there? Yes... One morning I went down to the gate to collect the cans to take to the factory. What? Yes; to take to the factory. They were big pot-bellied open cans. Yes. Well, then. I noticed an unusual bulge in the milk of one of them . . . something like aa incipient flat-roofed geyser. Yes geyser. Hullo. I grabbed a stick and began to stir . . . and up came —what do you think? Eh? No; you've guessed wrong. It was a very drowned torn cat. What? " True bill. He'd tumbled in," overcome by the sight of so much breakfast) and there was no life-saving club to fling him a rope. What happened nest? What do you think! I tossed him into the manuka handy, and chugged off .tout, suite,.'to the factory with the cans. 'Whatl?'Unsanitary? Who'd know the difference, anyhow? Righto. Cheerio." '• * . ' * '. ' POSTED . . . MISSING. Puzzled.—lt might have been thick soup, you know. Naughty Peter.—Just a trifle too aeronautical for us, thank you, Peter. M.Me.—Sorry, but we have already printed a pun to the same effect. Katrill (Nelson).—Very nearly, but not quite. • Duno.—A little late in the day, otherwise .would have reached print. Betta Knott ("This- English of Ours").—Better not, for this one. The other is in type. ' • Evah.—Opens promisingly only to fade out in tha peroration. Sunisa.—Your footnote has more point and spontaneity than the verses. The Un-met Meteors.—Well below' your usual standard. Ananias.—Thanks for thinking of us, but that one is too much of a Joe Miller to merit republieation here. Bindle.—An obvious variant of aa ancient chestnut. See~ above. W;M.O, —If. you are as serious as all that you had better try the correspoadence columns next door. . ..'•'■* * *. MORNING TEA MONOLOGUE. •" Juiw, passion fruit, don't talk to me until you shove along' the tea. Talkin' of such, things, if Forbes ain't A- teaser, I'm a saint. What's erawlin' on 'im? Dinkuni, dear, Three munce ago 'c raised a cheer— An' smiled, too, so I hunderstand—• Prognosting better times at 'and. Now that from George was liker drink' That bucks you up, an' everythink, An' yet to-day 'c goes about ■".■'" 'Owlin' liees very eyeballs out, Shatterin' the 'ope 'c gave at first By turnin' bad news into worst. It's "true" we're 'avin' a poor spin, But this cold feet guff's sickenin'. Coates an' hees predication, too ... Yes. we're the mutts, dear—nie-'n'-yoa. Doesn't it strike-you rather strange Labour's so dumb on 'igh exchange? You see, I s'pose it suits their ends To not annoy their farmer friends. If they don't play their cards righfc—s why, They're sure to lose votes by-'n'-by. Gimme another cup to 'eal The hindignation what I feel. My word! I'd love to 'aye ago Runnin' this d- n. G.O.C.* show As G.O.C. Some iiaddlepates Would very soon be shown the gates, Bitin' their well-bit fingernails, With crackers fizzin' at theii tails. The men .'as led us such a dance It's 'igh time wimmen 'ad a chance, An' I'm a hammerzon, I ham . . . Who cares a tinker's (Hamster)dam! 'Presumably God's Own Country. * ' ■■* • AFRICANA. • ■-/-'. Some Afrieana culled from Capa journals big and little by a Cape Towa gdssip writer. Fashion note from the fruit orchards, of Stellenbosch: The Kclscy plum, formerly the ear> liest of bloomers, is only just opening. Hearken to the monody of the Okahandja correspondent of the Windhoek "Advertiser" over the moulting (not melting) moments of his favourite Wyandote rooster: He whose clarion call once aroused the world to its work, or bumping, and trundling over the sunset Mils dismissed the world to its slumber, he is wholly morbid now; and for some time w*a have viewed with apprehension hia solitary evening excursion up the little rise and his long lone gazing across the Kalahari. Xovol argument on the need for a fire brigade advanced by a reader of the "Northern News": I Our first duty lies to these companies who r?m the. risk of insuring our I properties} for large sums for paltry i premiums. * v ' ■ Vj