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Salient. The Newspaper of Victoria University College. Vol. 19, No. 5. May 5, 1955

The House... And All That — Weir Swillow (Beer and Skittles!)

The House... And All That

Weir Swillow (Beer and Skittles!)

After a long trolley-ban journey and some optimistic promises, to whoever forbade us to take any germ-killer, we arrived at the aaaabsolate terminus of the Karori Park line. Little more than an hour later Baron von Schroder and Capitalist Hume appeared followed by a straggling line of retainers and many bottles and cases of anti-tetanus.

South fleeted to field and the Baron opened with the redoubtable Mr. Huddleston against the slow bowler expressly requested by the former. After the first over Mr. Elmes, already pretty well inoculated came out to umpire and to discipline a bowler who had steadfastly ignored the Baron's requests for alow leg breaks. This bowler finally bowled eleven balls before he got tired and went away. "Over" said Mr. Carver who arrived at the bowler's end absolutely immune just in time for the third over.

Mr. Elmes went in for a drink.

Mr. Carver went in for a drink.

Messrs. Schroder and Rich came out to umpire. Rich gave the next batsman out because he had left his cigarettes on the boundary. The one who brought them in was promptly run out but Rich was lighting a cigarette and Schroder was looking for a drink.

Schroder went in for a drink.

There was a general tendency to forget we were playing tippeny runs and time and time' again the umpires had to tell the batsmen to run next time.

Schroder returned, asked the bowler to slow down, turned his back on a perfectly taken catch, allowed his third consecutive 7-ball over, started to leave the field for a drink but seeing Rich on sideline returned in disgust. The next batsman was caught out by Rich as he returned to the wicket. An appeal for I.b.w. was refused by Schroder under a dubious classification known as "bum ball."

Your correspondents left the field for a drink, beating Schroder in by a short head. Schroder returned to and that all the players were buying icecreams from a terrified urchin on the boundary.

North were all out 127 for is wickets with a tolerance of 10 per cent each way.

* * *

Schroder opened the bowling for North with slow ferocious long hops (bounce, bounce, bounce and scuttle) which invariably lured the frustrated batsmen out of their creases. The umpires had by now discovered that their mugs were safest just behind the middle stump. Mr. Wills was bowling in true underarm style, the bias being Supplied by the umpires. On the strength of the next four Schroder ordered Mr. Sinclair out to the boundary 200 yards away. Mr. Anderson bowled as follows: wide, wide, no ball, wide, wide, single. Mr. Chamberlain, who had unaccountably found time to field and bat, on both sides as well as immunise himself! bowled a 2-ball over and went back to long stop to sleep it off.

You bumble-footed idiot, screamed, Schroder to Carver, as that unfortunate person tried in vain to point out that he'd though he had to use his hands. Schroder's last ball was played on by the batsman. Mr. Powles (who had not gone off—he had a bottle with him) thought for a while and said "No ball" with some relish. Mr. Schroder went in for a drink and didn't come back. Mr. Hankias put himself on to bowl and Mr. Sinclair took 48 off the next six balls (6 sixes, 6 wides and a lost ball). Finally with the score at 268 for 19 declared it looked as if the tradition of the inevitable draw had at last been broken but at the last moment Schroder oozing waspish self-satisfaction from every pore announced that Sinclair was playing for North anyhow, or should have.

Where's Weir?

Just at the moment there is an ominous pause in House activity. Residents seem to be still suffering from some kind of torpor, possibly induced by the over indulgence in Easter eggs, or the desire to bury themselves deep in their hooks crying with the poet: "Hence vain deluding joys, etc," This is very laudable (the study, not the gluttony) but the slacking of corporate life is a serious matter, even if only for several weeks, and unless somebody does something soon, Weir is liable to acquire some semblance of respectabillty. A shocking thought.

Weir Wolves

Several weeks ago to the soft and sweet music of the sophisticated Verne Clair Duo Housemen slunk round the dining room floor, which had been specially disinfected for the occasion. This was a somewhat more restrained affair than usual, though none the less enjoyable on that account. The floor show for the evening was given by none other than the "Inkspots." the Weir harmony group who this year have increased their numbers to achieve the dignity of a sextet. They gave us a simple but moving Gaudeamus, rattled the "Dry Bones" with exuberance, consorted with their little bright-eyed doll "Down by the Riverside" and congaed out with the same "Show Me the Way to Go Home" that we heard echoing through the corridors at 2 o'clock in the morning for the fortnight preceding the dance. From time to time odd couples left the room, some to drink coke and listen to records in the discretely lit Common room. Others . . .


The other day Mr. Ward convened a meeting of the Haercmal Committee to concoct some shrewd, witty and possibly coarse amusements for the public (but far more for Ourselves). The precise nature of these actlvities cannot at this moment be revealed. However, if you wake up on Friday morning and find yourselves without a Railway Station and maybe even without a government, don't be surprised but duck for The Night is coming.

Will you Support the Party which Party? the Haka Party!

. . . which was the subversive notice put up by Comrades Ward, Perry, Elmes and Chamberlain who are also something called the Weir House Haeremal Committee. Dress-rehearsing for the good, solid, sinful chaos that is called Capping Eve by students and certain other things by certain other people they broached a plan which is a change from the usual keg.

This group, apparently moved by one of the twinges of conscience that seems to get under the skins of the Middle Class bourgeois parasites, decided to go down to Allen Street and give a bit of encouragement to the You-know-what Party which really doesn't get a fair spin. So the local cell grabbed every scarlet garment in the House and put on their best raffia skirts (Query: What does a Haka party man wear underneath his skin?) and went to the dogs to give the hoi-pollol a cheap thrill, and advertise Extrav. and all that sort of thing. You've no idea [unclear: the] amount of organisation that goes into these spontaneous rallies.

Whatever happened the word must have got around somehow because the other Party didn't turn up. Deprived of the opportunity to cheer a guaranteed anti-warmonger until no one could hear him, the Houseman who came to watch (and you never saw a poorer fed, more underprivileged lot of unfortunates) bought a soapbox, and Mr. Gainby divided his attention between haranguing every dreg within earshot and keeping his balance until the Haka Party arrived and Comrades Perry was placed on the box where he spouted a lot of deviationist reactionary propaganda for a bourgeois intellectual misuse of the rightful property of the workers called Extravaganza. The loyal comrade then called for three cheers for the Queen, which were given by a large number of infiltratory capitalistic pigs and tools of the ruling classes present. The proletariat then joined [unclear: enthusiastically] in one-and-a-half cheers for Comrade Beria, sorry, Comrade Malenkov, sorry ... and three silent cheers for the speakers.