12 NOVEMBER 1937, Page 6

How many stern unbending teetotallers listened in to the "

wine " broadcast last Saturday there is no means of knowing. But not many of them, I imagine, sent in protests. There was nothing to protest about, except a most abysmal dullness ; whatever anyone expected, he can hardly have been prepared for a succession of young men declaiming bits of poetry about wine in the kind of accents that are, happily, never heard in normal life. I speak subject to one reserve. Any- thing, for all I know, may have happened in the last ten minutes, for sleep had finally overcome me by then.

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