Word: sirring
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: during 1940-1940
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...tall, hearty man of military bearing is Sir Keith Murdoch, now 54. He lives in a big U. S. Colonial home outside Melbourne, owns a couple of sheep stations (ranches), collects paintings, silver, glass, Chinese ceramics. Born in Melbourne, son of a Presbyterian minister, Murdoch (not knighted till 1933) was doing pretty well as manager of a press cable service when he set out as a correspondent for the war in 1915. But he got his real start as an Empire bigwig when he landed in Britain, handed Lloyd George a confidential report on conditions in Gallipoli. Soon...
...only 240,000, it is a sort of London Times in miniature. The "Murdoch press" has tentacles in three of Australia's six States, boasts a combined (daily & Sunday) circulation of more than 1,040,000-which is considerable on a continent of 7,000,000 inhabitants. But Sir Keith, except for a small interest in the Sydney Sun, has no newspaper holdings in New South Wales-a section as important in Australia as the Eastern coast...
Sydney's press feuds bitterly with Melbourne's. When Sir Keith, as Director of Information, issued decrees requiring newspapers to print anything the Ministry gave them, Sydney's press howled. It accused Sir Keith of using his official powers to muzzle rival newspapers. Cried the Sydney Telegraph in a page 1 editorial: "He is so used to getting a docile 'Yes, Sir Keith' from those who trot at his beck and call in Melbourne . . . that he expected the whole Australian people to bow down humbly and submit in the same...
Astonished by the uproar was Sir Keith. Said he stiffly: "I should think that we would use these powers little if at all. . . ." Nevertheless, 48 hours after Sir Keith announced his decrees, they were withdrawn by Prime Minister Menzies. Sir Keith decided he had better resign and look after his own interests...
...psaga of Psmith ("the p ... is silent as in phthisis, psychic, and ptarmigan"), the fastidious young man who calls everybody "Comrade," and almost alone among Wodehouse fauna has enough wits to live by. There is the epic of Jeeves, the infallible, verse-quoting valet ("We are in the autumn, sir, season of mists and mellow fruitfulness"). In the workaday world Jeeves might seem like an average enough gentleman's gentleman but stacked up beside Bertie Wooster, to whose harebrained Don Quixote he plays a discreet Sancho Panza, Jeeves looks like an intellectual giant. There is also Mr. Mulliner...