Salient. An Organ of Student Opinion at Victoria College, Wellington, N.Z. Vol. 17, No. 8. May 27, 1953
The Lion In Tarascon — A Convenient Spot
The Lion In Tarascon
A Convenient Spot
Situated somewhere near the centre of New Zealand on one of the points of the North Island, is a city. You may have noticed it on your Sunday walks. Quite an inoffensive city some say. Just sitting there churning away like home brew beer. Nothing disturbed it for a long time. Nothing to shake up the mathematical precision of life. Until something unaccountable happened. Perhaps somebody had bottled the brew too soon but suddenly on May 8, 1953. Capping arrived.
Stupeur generate, tumulte, bousculade. Remember Tartarin when the lion appeared in Tarascon . . . you've got the idea. However, instead of one lion there were forty, dressed in sheets and robes of the "East." assembled in force at the call of the muezzin to the "Taj Mahal," a convenient spot in the city. Not to be outdone on equal number of Tartarins appeared, ferme et resolu. For a breathless moment the Lions of Victoria and the Lions of Taranaki St. faced one another, then from the former rose the cry that will go down in history—"Allah be praised—" etc. They did not Flinch those Lions of Taranaki St. but carried themselves with befitting dignity and aplomb in all their subsequent actions. The Incident seems to have become part of the nation's heritage through the local newspapers correspondence columns; you know . . . "the heritage that will never die" touch. The issue seems to be resembling more and more the late heated discussion on whether benches should be closed on Sundays—started by a humorist and solemnly taken up by Wellington's numerous sober minded citizens.
For us it will be remembered in years to come by those who were there, who, shaking their grey heads over their beer, will murmur, "Ca oui e'etait une chase."
Consternation of a different type occurred elsewhere around Wellington on Capping morning when dawn found Abominable Snowmen's footprints on Parliament Building's steps, local hostelries and other less likely places. There is some doubt as to whether the same Snowmen were responsible for decorating the General Assembly Library with such a cute red flag and making the various statues around Wellington more interesting with dog's skulls, gin bottles and so forth.
The annoyance of the local shop window cleaners as they removed whitewashed slogans must have been tempered with a certain amount of bewilderment as must have been that of certain railway officials. What would you do anyway if your nice, clean, palatial railway station was invaded by dozens of marble playing students and resounded to such professional cries as "Funs," "Keeps," "Nothings," "Rounds," etc.?
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On Top of Old Smoky"
Think that one out and you'll understand the reason for the slightly glazed expression in the eye of the traffic officer at Perret's Corner as he tried to persuade the hundredth person that the diagonal pedestrian crossing was not a quick way from the "Duke" to the "George." that it had appeared in the night by the hand of a foreign agent and furthermore would everyone please stop walking all over his road.
Praise must go to the intrepid people (including one woman) who put a fake body in the hospital morgue. They did not count on there being real ones there as well.
Eventually came Procesh. Although not up to the standard of Canterbury who had 26 floats our modest 12 plus sundries were an improvement on previous years.
There is something eminently satisfying in Procesh. It is the chance to hold to crude and extravagant ridicule all the stupidity and commercial bally too that we have to put up with during the year. The larger the number of indignant letters that appear in the Press after-wards the greater the measure of success. Incidentally, it seems curious that people who complain never seem to fail to witness Procesh every year. Perhaps they take delight in wilfully exposing themselves to the devil.
By far the best float was an ingenious skit on 3-D featuring the film "The Man in the Stark" (rec. by sexo for adults). Produced by Mr. Poison it won first prize of "a dozen." Similarly Cholorophyll products came in for a thrashing from the Chem. Dept. who thought of an ingenious innovation for the green horror.
Under the slogan "You too can mount a bear in your hall," the Tramping Club presented the possibilities of Introducing not only bears but many other types of animals into fiordland.
Other floats included—a communist hotbed—in every sense of the word; St. Triniana with one of them dangling from a scaffold; a skit on Weir and the recent Stratford Players; what Mr. Holland will wear at Coronation, including a barrel; a weather office emitting horrible smelling clouds; the Hospital Bawd; variations on a theme of Paris models; Flying Sourcerers and a glorious Roman . . . Chariot. Incidentally if anyone requires a Roman Chariot urgently . . . for any purpose whatsoever or feels a pressing urge to own one, some can be obtained from the Exec, room at no extra charge.
To finish up, here are some impressions from our roving reporter who insinuated himself among the thousands along Procesh. route.
Q. (to parent): "And what do you think of it all?"
A.: "It's a disgusting and suggestive exhibition by irresponsible adolescents!"
"Thank you. See you again next year."
Q. (to typist): "Do you like being kissed by students."
A.: "I hate It, mostly."
Q. (to young male); "Do you think it's worthwhile?"
A.: "I think they're excellent. Everyone likes them. There should be more of them.
"And what is your profession?"
"Me? I'm a university student."
Why did he have to tell us!