WEEK-END SMILES

Greymouth Evening Star, 22 December 1934, Page 4

WEEK-END SMILES

STAGGERING. Lillie Girl (gazing on stag’s head on wall in Auntie's house) : Can we go into the next room, Auntie? I want to see the rest of the stag. THE NEXT STEP. Husband: One more payment and the furniture’s ours. Wife: Good! Then we can throw it out. and get some new stuff. DISQUALIFIED. Angry Guide: Why didn't you shoot at the tiger? Timid Hunter: He hadn’t, the right kind of expression on his face for a rug. THE J.IM IT. Lecturer (in village school): Weil, children, what shall 1 talk to you about? Small Boy (in front row): About five minutes, sir. MODEST REQUEST. Customer: Do you exchange unsatisfactory goods? Salesman: Certainly, sir. Customer: Well, this is an overcoat I get here last year. I think your new style is much better. NOT QUITE THE SAME. Hen peck (who has just overheard his wife scolding the maid): You and I both seem to be in the same unfortunate position, Mary. .Maid: Not likely! I’m giving her a week's notice to-morrow. GAVE IN. Banjoist: My wife started nagging me last night and J finally let her have it. . Saxophonist: Gosh, you hit her? Banjoist: "No, 1 let her have the new coat she was nagging me for. INVITATION DECLINED. Bettie: I don’t care for Ronald any more. Last night i wanted to show him how well I could whistle, and as 1 pouted my lips to whistle — Mollie: Well? Bettie: He let me whistle. TRYING. A critic declares that there is nothing that annoys novelists more than the person who starts reading their books in the middle. Unless, of course, it’s the person who stops reading at that point. VANISHED HOPE. “Don’t be downhearted.” said the sailor. “Seasickness never killed anyone.” The suffering one groaned. “I’m sorry to hear it. It’s only the hope of dying that’s kept me alive so far.”

DID SHE KNOW? “Daddy, do you think mother knows much about raising children?” “Why do you ask that?” “Well, she makes me go to bed when I’m wide awake —and she makes me get up when I’m awfully sleepy.” HE KNEW HER WRITING. An old Irishwoman wished to send a telegram to her son. When the obliging Post Office clerk offered to write it for her, she said promptly: “If ye plaze. mister, I’ll do it meself, for Patrick knows me writing.” SKIMPY. “All I got at her house was a cup of shamrock tea,” remarked a young fellow. "What on earth's shamrock tea?” asked his companion. “You know the kind —made with tlirco leaves.” PLUCKY FELLOWS. “What is Crimson Gulch doing about the crime wave?” “We have built a good stone gaol with iron bars and window shutters.” “And if a bandit comes along?” “We'll barricade ourself in the gaol and defy him.” A LEADING LIGHT “How is your daughter getting on in London?” “Fine! She’s a leading light in the pictures.” “A film star?” “Not exactly—she shows the people to their seats with a torchlight.” NECESSARY Sambo, carrying a. crate of eggs, tripped and fell headlong with dire consequences. His friend Rastus, happening along just then, threw back his head and shouted with laughter. Sambo watched him for a moment. Then he commanded, “Boy! Shut yo’ mouf so’s I kin see who yo’ is.” NASTY. Smith (boastingly): My wife's always in the fashion; why, she’s just bought a pair of gloves with a. mirror on the wristband! Jones: Umph; reminds me of my wireless set. Smith: Why? .Jones: Well, the dial needs frequent i attention when there’s a loudspeaker attached! SOLE SUPPORT. A shiftless specimen of humanity came along the street one morning, and joining a group at the corner, announced that he was going to leave (own—said be could not live in it any longer. Someone asked him what was the matter. “Well,” ho said, “the town is all right; hut it's the hardest place in the world for a woman to get work in!”

A QUESTION OF RUNNING. “You’ll get run in.” said the pedestrian to the cyclist, “if you ride without a light.” “You’ll get run into,” responded the rider as he knocked Iho other down. “You’ll get run in. too,” said the policeman as ho stepped forward and seized the cyclist. Just then another scorcher came along without a light, so the policeman was run into, too, and had to run in two. THE ONLY WAY LEFT. Mrs. Clymber was giving a little dinner parly to some influential friends, and was in a fix owing to her maid having left that morning without giving notice. She decided to ask the cook if she would help her out. “Jane.” she said tearfully, “what am 1 to do? Mary has gone and I’ve nobody to wait at the table. Do you think you could possibly do it?” “Not in the dining-room, ma’am,” was cook’s firm response; “but I’ve had some canteen experience which might be useful. If you'll send out your guests to the kitchen when they arrive, and toll them to bring their plates and knives and forks with them, I’ll see that they get all that’s cornin’ to them.”