Volume 156 — A PLEA FOR PROPORTION.
Reading edition
[Its contemporaries having told us all about Mr. Lloyd George's hat and how President Wilson ate a banana, The Daily Express recently went one better with the headline, "Mr. Balfour joins a Tennis Club," as the subheading of its "Peace Conference Notes."]
Has it always been this way, I wonder, Did editors always display The same disposition to blunder O'er the weight of the news of the day? When simpler was war and directer, Was Athens accustomed to see In the sheets of its Argus how Hector Had bloaters for tea? If so—or indeed if it's not so— One cannot but gently deplore That the custom of chronicling rot so Has not been expunged by the War. When the world with its horrors still stunned is And waits for vast hopes to come true, What boots it if delegates' undies Are scarlet or blue? All facts of those delegates' labours I'm ready to read with a zest, And they must, like myself and my neighbours, I know, have their moments of rest; I do not begrudge them their pleasures, But frankly I don't care a rap If the sport that engages their leisure's "Up, Jenkins" or "Snap." Since the founts of its wisdom present us Each morning with gems of this kind, Such matters must strike as momentous The news-editorial mind; 'Tis time this delusion was done with, High time that some voice made it clear We don't want those fountains to run with Such very small beer.
"A married man, aged 34 years, collided with the mail train when riding a motorcycle into Hawera on Friday. His right arm, collarbone, and blue hospital uniforms on Thursday morning."—New Zealand Herald.
We rather like this telescopic style of reporting. It leaves something to the reader's imagination.
"To Parents and Pawnbrokers.—Anyone assisting to remove the Charity Boots, marked B., from the Children's Feet, which are the property of Mr. J. B—— and his Supporters, WILL BE PROSECUTED."—Irish Paper.
A distressful country, indeed, where the children do not own their own feet.