FROM THE WATCH TOWER

Sun (Auckland), Volume IV, Issue 1064, 30 August 1930, Page 8

FROM THE WATCH TOWER

By

“THE LOOK OUT MAN

"NOTHING DPIXO ' The Cooks’ and Stewards’ Hymn, contributed by the unemployed ships’ cooks aud stewards of x Auckland: Every morn at ten we muster, fifty strong— Nothing doing. At ten we meet again, and—sing a song, Nothing doing. Our secretary’s smart. He’s got it off by heart, And we greet with rousing cheers his “Nothing doing." Still we live in hope—and debt. _. , „ Nothing doing. If we d money we’d get drunk, to forget Nothing doing. Those of us who have no mother Live by borrowing from each other. For each member is a brother— Nothing doing. Last night one had a dream ... A Of something doing. And he sprang to grab the job—- . . Nothing rueing. But in springing wrecked a "rigger," Lost his “spot” and gashed his figure.

Something doing, lads, at lastj something doing! # * • “THAT BAUBLE"

When. Parliament goes into Committee, one of the solemn formalities to be enacted is the removal of the mace, symbol of Mr. Speaker’s authority, which is placed out of sight under the table. To Mr. E. J. Howard, who noticed the other day that the mace had not been removed, goes credit for alertness. "That bauble” is a passable and heavily-gilded imitation of the mace used since 1649, in the British House o £ Commons. The original mace in the New Zealand House of Representatives was a polished wooden shaft with an ornamental head to it. Now the decorative article is all metal, and so heavy that outsiders frequently speculate as to whether it is all silver or part lead. DISMAL DERBY

The bluff, democratic Earl of Derby, who contemplates selling some of bis racehorses, and who may even have to consider leaving "the home where his ancestors have lived for so long” (it came into the family’s possession through a marriage with an heiress at the time of the AVars of the Roses) had two great ambitions, to win .the Derby and to become Prime Minister of England. The first he achieved in 1924 when Sansovino won the Derby. The second lie renounced because, after long political service, he grew “tired of the limelight.” The Earl did not always have to worry about finance. When Sansovino won the Derby he gave the £II,OOO stake money to his trainer. Now he is giving him the sack.

LICENSED TO CUP

The idea that a pair of' scissors, a revolving chair, and a knowledge of current sporting news arc all that is necessary when a man wants to open a barber’s shop, is dispelled by news of a Hamilton Court case, in which a hairdresser has been prosecuted for failing to renew his licence. We knew that motor-cars, land agents, radio sets, hotels and even dogs had to be licensed and duly registered, but had not dreamed that our voluble friend Shears was subject to similar oppressions. It is not often these cases come before the courts, and in this particular case some representative of the Hamilton Borough Council must be complimented on his familiarity with obscure statutes. WITHIN OR WITHOUT

Actually, the charge against the Hamilton hairdresser was dismissed, the magistrate ruling the regulation ultra vires, in so far as one effect of it is to prohibit altogether the opening of new hairdressing establishments. There is provision for the renewal of existing licences, but none for the issue of new ones. According to this reasoning, all parlours opened since 1926, have been operating outside the law. Yet one seems to recollect a number of ladies’ establishments, particularly, which have come into being since 1926. Can it be that ladies’ hairdressing establishments do not require a licence? Possibly the Act, unmindful of the shingle, overlooked them. Or possibly there was gross differentiation, on the assumption that men only are liable to be tonsorially unhygienic. S * SOIATARY SPONG The man with the uncommon name periodically searches the world’s directories for traces of his namesakes. Only once previously had he found one, and he, a Queensland squatter, could not be claimed as kith or kin. But the other day this citizen came within reaching distance of a London directory. This masterpiece contains seven million names, and is several feet from cover to cover. In it the uncommonlynamed one found only one namesake, and he an antique dealer. “Just think of it," said the Aucklander; “only one man of my name in the whole of that vast book.” It reminded one of Spong. the British footballer. A fair friend in Auckland said she would be going to London next year. “Ring me up.” said the footballer. “Just look in the telephone directory. There’s only one Spong there.”