A poet went to stay at an irun. Onft morning he rang the bell of his bedroom, “Boy,” he said, “have you seen anything of my laundry?” “ Your laundry,” said the boy in astonishment. Why, you’ve only had one shirt since you’ve boon here.” “ That,” said the poet with an overwhelming dignity, “ that is the one to which I refer.” Says a headline: “ Octopus with eight arms caught off Brighton,” an English writer says:—“l’ll bet some chump will write up to suggest that this octopus be played for England in the slips in the test cricket matchse.
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Bibliographic details
Evening Star, Issue 20555, 6 August 1930, Page 11
Word Count
97Untitled Evening Star, Issue 20555, 6 August 1930, Page 11
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