Reviewing the last copy of the new "Smad" (the McGhie issue), we see the McGhie revue in extenso: McGhie the Big Executive, McGhie the Romantic, McGhie, the Club-consolidator, McGhie the Neck-or-Nothing-Minus Debater (—1051). We hope to read something about V.U.C. in subsequent issues.

In the Cockpit, he vents the wordy homily anticipated from this Flying Scotchman. For A McG., intellectuals are tinder whereon is struck the spark of genius (these matchless intellectuals!), foundations with towers springing in profusion, and ashes whence phoenices arise. Every Club and Movement is seared by the liquid fire of his oratory. The McGhie will surely go down to history as the whip that cracked o'er Salamanca. All we need at the moment, however, is that he descend from the chill air of his Olympus before he gets still colder feet.

The raspberry for the most useful information in the last issue goes to the experienced Mr. Morpeth, who is his innocence gives this sitter for the matrimonial stakes.

"For the benefit of freshers, the Cafeteria is situated near the Women's Common Room."

From "Smad's" Super Service:

"The students sung the same songs."

Yes whatever they say about these freshers, the yangsters sure are great sungsters.

Not academic freedom but literary license was the chief substance of the book review. About the bones of ideas from a well-known thesis, the writer swathes wrapping with all the skill of the reviewer turned undertaker.

The puny child reaches its majority at the end of the first paragraph—a desperate affair of 21 lines—two sentences—221 adjectives—too much!

And what an off-spring! "It is the puny child of cold thought". Readers are agog to see the [unclear: Planet] Product of Hot Thought from this writer's pen next week.

A windy, though well-meant, review, consigned (like all of us) to the timely sarcophagus of Oblivion.

(It is hoped to make the above column a regular feature for critical comment on the preceding week's issue. Any items from readers will be welcome.—Ed.)