FROM THE WATCH TOWER

Sun (Auckland), Volume IV, Issue 1029, 21 July 1930, Page 8

FROM THE WATCH TOWER

By “THE LOOK-OUT MAN.” RIVAL .SHOW.s’ An astounding scene was enacted in the Auckland City Council chamber when, to the accompaniment of catcalls, hoots, cheers and facetious comment from an excited gallery of the public, the meeting ended in utter disorder. —News item. His Majesty’s bills comedies And the Strand a racy show, The Regent's fare has thrills to spare While the Roxy's all the go: They say St. James has spicy claims And the Civic Western punch . . . But for sheer delight try Thursday night "With the City Council bunch. Tin're's a host of thrills and verbal spills With laughter and some to spare. There are racy cjuips, and warning tips From the Man in the High-backed Chair; They have spice fol- you and (irtpna, too, Plus a brawl whefP the hour is fleeting . . . Why pay for a spree when you get it free At a City Council meeting? ME. ■srrpf'.Y r revels Without holding any brief for the undergraduates who punctuated the capping ceremony of the Otago University with “rowdyism and explosive humour" (which means, it appears, catcalls and fireworks), it is only fair to remark that Mr. W. J. Morrell, the vice-chancellor, whose address was so sadly interrupted, Is not noted for the brevity or even the liveliness of his speeches. Furthermore, he is the rector of the Otago Boys’ High School, and although a large number of students in Dunedin hail from the North (many have their homes in Auckland), their ranks are swelled by ex-High School boys eager to even old scores! However, Mr. Morrell is by no means the only one who has suf-. fered at the hands of students. There was the case of Mr. H. L. Tapley, exM.P., then Mayor of Dunedin, who presided at a student function and found it necessary to say with dignified emphasis, “Order, please, gentlemen.” From the rear of the hall came the enthusiastic answer. "Two beers.” RUGBY MANIA “Peretu”: When the British Rugby footballers return to the United Kingdom, they will be able to subscribe to the opinion that New Zealanders are afflicted by the serious disease of Rugby mania from the tiniest Maori tots in the most insignificant hackblock settlements to the oldest inhabitants of the largest cities. Is •this picture of some future time in the United Kingdom permissible? A small child clambers on to the thin knees of a grizzled greybeard, asking: “When you were on the football tour, grandfather, did you meet any New Zealanders? What were they like?” The old man will groan, muttering something about a peculiar race whose vision was obscured by Rugby footballs. Let me relate my experience on Saturday morning: I rang up a commercial house of integrity. The office girl answered. “Is Mr. This or Mr. That in?” I asked. “I’m sorry —they’ve gone out to the football,” she trilled. In despair, I tried a rival firm, making a personal call this time. On -the door was this legend, hurriedly scribbled on a scrap of paper: “Will be hack on Monday morning.” And this is business in New Zealand! , A DEWY MESSAGE We who grumble about the difficulty of abandoning our beds these mornings should shed a tear for that spartan army engaged on the delivery of milk, newspapers and the like. Even worse is the job of the fruit hawker, who is obliged to rouse a member of each household before doing business. If the morning is particularly cold, and the hawker has called at a particularly early hour, the chances are that recumbent figures, hidden beneath the blankets, will decide that they have no liking whatever for either fruit or vegetables, and will ignore the patient knocking. This happened at a City home the other morning, and when the members of the family finally emerged they found the following pathetic message on the back verandah: “I knock but no could wake.” It was written with a finger that had moved across the dewy surface of a wooden step. ORDERED OFF

Even the most truculent of footballers learns sooner or later that it never pays to argue with the referee. When trouble is brewing and the man with the whistle is taking drastic measures players should remember that silence is golden and count up to ten or even ten times ten before they speak. Proof of the wisdom of this advice was provided on an Auckland Soccer field recently when three men were dealt with severely. One was ordered off and then another. Dismayed by these i-apid dismissals the third man spoke up. "If this goes on. Mr. Referee,” he said, "you’ll soon have no teams left!” For this piece of gratuitous information he, too, was shown the way to the sideline. The remaining players kept their thoughts to themselves.