FROM THE WATCH TOWER

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 190, 1 November 1927, Page 8

FROM THE WATCH TOWER

By "THE LOOK-OUT MAN” “FOURPEXCE A GALLO. V " The Parliamentary figures shoiccd a ■most- decided slump — The profits tceren’t mounting up, so Gordon got “the hump.’’ He scratched his head and racked his brain, to think of any knacks To bring the country something in the nature of a tax. “At any rate," he murmured, “were accustomed to abuse; And so I’ll give the motorist a tax upon his ‘juice.’ “A tax upon the motor-car and not the motor-boat — I'll tax ’em like the incomes or the takings on the ’tote.’ ’’ The message reached the newly painted launches on the beach, And they answered, “It is lovely, clever Gordon is a peach.’’’ But the motor-car was crying with a toot —a sob —a toot. “Oh, Gordon, you’re a skinflint. You would rob us of our ‘hoot!’” —B.C.H. XERYES OP ATHLETEU These “barraekers” should be ashamed of themselves. At last, one of them has received his deserts — arrested at a baseball match —the base fellow. His “barracking” so unstrung the nerves of those delicatelyconstructed baseball players that one of them had to stand down, while the nervous systems of two others were wrecked to such an extent that they made frequent errors. This ruffianly fellow was “bound over.” He really should have been electrocuted. Now that the cricket season is on us In Auckland and the fiercely strenuous game Is “taking it out” of so many of our splendid young men, legislation should be passed so that their nerves shall not be shattered like those of the unfortunate American oaseballers. It would be dreadful to see Dacre bowled through losing his nerve when someone called: “Hit It!” More harrowing even is the possibility of Allcott's middlefinger refusing to function when delivering a “break” through some bawling “barracker” crying “Middle stump!” The nervestrain on cricketers is terrific —worse, if possible, than that imposed by billiards or ping-pong—and it behoves spectators to suppress their excitement until after the drawing of stumps. * * * THE CHRISTMAS CARD Old customs die hard. Pancake Day is still religiously celebrated with piping plates of excellent food (a worthy survival, this) and we are told on good authority that there are still some sentimental souls in the world who send forth cards bearing pierced hearts on St. Valentine’s Day. Certain it is, however, that the Christmas card habit is still with us and soon we shall see windows stocked with such chaste designs as a pair of clasped hands, a bunch of forget-me-nots, two horse-shoes, a wedding bell, a sprig of mistletoe, a plum pudding and possibly a couple of angels, tastefully grouped together under a slice of mica. Why is It that we should have to suffer each year, in silence, under a deluge of these gaudy greetings from maiden aunts and far-distant sisters-in-law Better far the simple line of greeting or the stereotyped telegram so thoughtfully provided by a kindly department. The Look-Out Man has an idea that if the Money Order Department were to follow the Telegraph Department and institute a similar stereotyped form of Christmas greeting such as: “Cheerio. This one is on me. Here is £l,” there would be a perpetuation of the spirit of Christmas and aesthetic eyes would no longer be offended. He offers the suggestion to Mr. Nosworthy in place of the chaste little Christmas card he had in view.

OVERDID IT Charlie N. told us this; so being short of material (Christmas orders having taken all the cloth promised by the warehouse), we reproduce, without any elaboration, the story of Charles: Charles worked for the most respectable firm in Auckland. Charles had a father who introduced him to whisky and bid him beware of it as his worst enemy—“Oh, that man should take an enemy into his mouth to steal away his brains!” quoted Dad. Charles never forgot the warning, and every time he went out for lunch he chewed a clove after it. The 39th year of service had arrived, and Charles was due for retirement on pension in another 365 days. Rather jubilant about it, Charles breathed confidences to the barmaid. “Don’t be a fool,” said the barmaid. “Cloves only give you away—have a spring onion!” So Charles did eat of it — another Adam—and returned to the office. Thereupon said the manager: ‘T have stood your whisky and cloves j for nigh on forty years—but whisky and onions I will not stand. : Therefore you are sacked, and, being ! sacked in consequence of misconduct. | you lose your superannuation.” Charles thinks it aa ’ard world!