A newly-married woman entered an ironmonger’s shop and asked: “Have you a pie-dish eighteen inches long and four inches wide?” “I’m sorry, madam, but I’m afraid we haven’t. What is it for? ” asked the ironmonger. “Just to stew some rhubarb,” was the startling reply.
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Evening Star, Issue 22684, 25 June 1937, Page 5
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44Untitled Evening Star, Issue 22684, 25 June 1937, Page 5
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