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Press, Volume CVII, Issue 31384, 1 June 1967, Page 24

UNDERCOVER RUSE

Not everyone has a wife who sings like an angel, and those few so blessed are not always properly appreciative of their

fortune, tending to regard the whole thing as of little more consequence than an ability to make a satisfactory apple pie. One such of whom we know has discovered that a golden voice can have a less romantically metallic ring to it on occasion. He lives somewhere in Canterbury. and his wife had to go away for a few days to take part in a choral festival further south. She told him what day she would return, and at what

hour, and said, as it would be rather late at night, that he should not wait up for her but merely leave the hall light on as a beacon of welcome. The day she was due to come home, a somewhat impish thought struck him. He went to a friend who owns a shop specialising in women's frocks. From the shop he took one of those dummies which consist, like a ship's figurehead, of a top half only. But he chose a very handsome one, with long fair hair, and he took it home. Before he climbed into bed that night, he installed the dummy, leaving the blond tresses in artful , disarray on the

pillow, and settled "’w-.n to wait for his wife. At the appoints nour. she was heard entering the house. Of course, his ploy was to be asleep, so when she opened the bedroom door and the light came with her, he kept his eyes fast shut. He heard some strange clicking sounds. He then felt the nuzzle of a muzzle on his neck and sat up hurriedly to find her pointing a loaded shot-gun at him. He did not have to explain, when the bedroom light was on, that he had been joking. She said she had been joking too. He’s still trying desperately to convince himself that she was.