LET MUNGA TAIPO BEWARE.

Manawatu Herald, Volume XXXVII, Issue 1487, 18 December 1915, Page 4

LET MUNGA TAIPO BEWARE.

(To the Editor.) Sir,—l read with great interest the account giVen by the great “Munga Taipo” of the work now being done in Foxton’s “Broadway” by the Borough Council faithful henchmen. Your correspondent, however, was scarcely correct on one or two points. Of course we must make some allowance for shattered nerves and also remember that he may have been tempted to anticipate the festive season now drawing near. First of all let me tell him that having interviewed this “merry trio of tar boys,” I find they are working together in concert and harmony. Their chief aim is to utterly destroy all the microbes which exist in our great thoroughfare. Incidentally, they are trying to make the road easier for the tender feet of those who have to cross it. If they can accomplish these two great objects they will feel they have not lived and laboured in vain. “Munga Taipo” suggested that there was division among them, but that is where he is greatly mistaken. I find that the knight of the big black broom is in command, and the other worthies carry out his orders with alacrity. I asked the leader his idea concerning the criticisms of “Munga Taipo,” in the Manawatu Herald. His rugged features took on a wrathful expression as he growled in his deep voice: “ ‘Munga Taipo’ be hanged! What does he know about roads ? Tow dust is more in his line.” Then as he made a great sweep with the broom, I discreetly turned to the worthy gentleman whose chief function is to dispense the precious fluid. He, a striking figure in black and white, was quite as indignant as his chief. “By my grey beard, and once white white,” he cried, “I would like to have ‘Mr Munga Taipo’ beneath this flowing tap. I would give him peace tokens, and after I’d done with him ‘Tall Boy’ could finish him off with a few shovels of dust.” “Why,” he went on, “our family motto has always been ‘fight to a finish.’” Just then the tar came over the top of the bucket and he made a wild dive to turn off the tap. I then turned to have a word with the last of the trio. He appeared to be in a somewhat chastened mood. “I think the fates are against me,” he said, sorrowfully. “Nearly all the people who pass by regard me as a most intolerable nuisance ; while to my mates they exclaim, ‘blessings on your frosty paws, that tar does smell nice.’” “Sometimes,” went on the dusty one, “the reproachful glances of Foxton’s fair ladies make me long for the wings of a dove, then would I fly to the Borough's remotest bounds and not return till the tar was well dry and every barrel empty.” I was not able, Mr Editor, to interview the borough engineer, but understand that he is hot on the trail of “Munga Taipo” and vows there will be war when they meet, I offer this as a warning to the black gentleman to make himself scarce ; and now, adieu.—l am. etc. Cabb Chaw Bacon.