IN LIGHTER VEIN

King Country Chronicle, Volume XXV, Issue 3261, 31 January 1931, Page 2

IN LIGHTER VEIN

The young wife selected a flat and was installed in it when the husband came home from the office.

“What do you think of the flat, as a whole, dear?” she asked. .“As a hole, it’s fine; but as a flat it’s simply frightful,” he replied.

Constable: Let me see your driving license.

Girl: Well, as a matter of fact, officer, I don’t happen to have it on me, but if it will save you any bother, I can assure you it’s very much like any other jolly old driving license.”

“Is Maizie’s new boy friend really so old?” “Old? Why, say, he gets winded playing chess!”

Digger Brown, in need of a few days’ leave, attended sick parade with a minor complaint. The doctor placed a thermometer in his mouth, and while he was not looking Brown held a match to the bulb to force his “temperature” up a bit. “Do you know, old chap,” the doctor said when he read it, “you should be dead? Your temperature is 130, and no man ever lived with that before. You get back to the line. You are quite safe there, for it would be impossible to kill a man with your constitution.”

“I wish you wouldn’t try to sell a motor car to my husband,” said a lady to a well-known manufacturer. “Why not, madam, pray?” asked he.

“Because he is not to be trusted with one,” replied the wife.

“But, madam, our motor cars are all what we call ‘fool-proof,’ ” insisted the expert.

“Yes, ordinarily, perhaps,” said the wife, “but you haven’t met my husband.”

Bookkeeper: I work as hard as Miller, but he gets £lO a month more than I do.

Chief: That’s not right. From the beginning of next month Miller gets £lO a month less.

Two women were chatting over tea.

“Yes,” said one, reminiscently, “I fell desperately in love with my husband at first'sight. I remember it just as though it were yesterday. I was walking along the front at Brighton with my father, and he suddenly pointed to him and said, “There, my dear, goes a man worth £100,000!” Mrs. Newrich: Doctor says the room should always be at 60 degrees. Mr. Newrich: Fahrenheit or centigrade? Mrs. Newrich: I don’t know. Which is considered the most refined?

Smithson was about to retire to his room for the night. “By the way,” the manager said, “what time would you like the porter to call you in the morning?” “There’s no need,” said Smithson. “I make it a practice always to wake at 7 without being called.” “In that case,” said the manager, “I wonder if you would mind calling the porter!”

With eyes that told love’s story she watched her fiance stroll down to the wickets to bat for his side; to' her he was the epitome of manly perfection. “My hero!” she murmured, as he gracefully set himself to slog the attack all over the field—“My hero.”

But the first ball scattered his wicket. “My bowled hero!” she sighed.

Wifie: I’ve brought you a beautiful surprise for your birthday—it has just arrived. Husband: I am curious to see it. Wifie: Wait a minute and I will put it on.

Dignified Shopwalker: And what can we show you to-day, madam? Old Lady: If it is not troubling you too much, would you- mind showing my little grandson where the burglars broke in?”

Employer: Though you start here in a small way, you will, at least, know that you have your foot on the bottom rung of the ladder. Office Boy: Excuse me, but what is it you think I am—a window cleaner or a fireman?

Lady (angrily): Yesterday, on the ’phone, I ordered a hundredweight of ice, and you sent me a hundredweight of rice. Order Office Clerk: Well, madam, may I recommend our course of twelve lessons in elocution?

The retired admiral was expostulating with his daughter about the lateness of her hours.

“I won’t have it,” he asserted, “going out with that landlubber in his car and not getting home till past midnight.” “But, daddy,” replied the sailor’s daughter, “we were becalmed. The wind died right down in two of his tyres.”

Mr. Macpherson: Ah’m thinkin’ Jeannie, it’s just as pleasant as the seaside tae be sittin’ oot here in our oon back garden.

Mrs. Macpßerson: Ay, an’ it’s more restful than the seaside. There’s no havin’ to get up an’ walk off when ye see the deck-chair man cornin’.

“Look here! That half-crown ye lent me yesterday was a counterfeit !”

“Well, didn’t ye say ye wanted it bad?”

Peter: What was the cause of that motor collision? Pan: Oh, the same old story. Two drivers after the same pedestrian.

The bus conductor had had a harassing day. Troublesome old ladies, irritating old gentlemen, people who tried to avoid payment of their fares, and other bus pests had all combined to do their worst. Late in the afternoon an American tourist boarded the bus. “Say, conductor,” he exclaimed, “I want your St. Paul’s Cathedral.”

“Oh, all right,” replied the conductor, rather shortly. “I say,” repeated the American, in a louder tone, “I want your St. Paul’s Cathedral —and make it snappy.” “Don’t worry, guv’nor,” retorted the now thoroughly fed-up conductor. “I’m getting it wrapped up for you.”

“Did you have any trouble with your French when you were in Dieppe?” asked Jones. “None at all,” said Smith, “but the French people did.”

“Why did you have only one of the twins photographed?” “They looked so much alike it was no use spending the money getting pictures of both.”

“Charles,” said a mother to her six-year-old son, “is it possible that you are teaching the parrot to use slang?” “No, mamma,” replied Charles, “I was just telling him what not to say.”

Salesman: There, madame, that’s just what you want. This portmanteau is solid leather—every inch of it solid leather.”

Shopper: But, my good man, I want a hollow one, to put things in!

“Now, you fellows, help yourselves to the cigars,” cried Peters, with a genial smile, after dinner. “They are some my wife gave me for a birthday present. Politely, but firmly, man after man vowed that he had sworn off smoking, and the dinner party ended in a ghastly fizzle. “Whatever did you tell such a fib about those cigars for?” asked Mrs. Peters, in surprise, when the guests had departed. “You know I gave you slippers for a birthday present.” “Oh, that’s all right, Mary!” replied her husband, calmly. “That box of cigars cost me forty-five shillings, and I can’t afford to give any of them away.”

The schoolmaster was endeavour-, ing to explain to his pupils that whenever an action in the arms or legs of a body moved, it was a response to a message from the brain. “The arm always sends a message down your arm or leg whenever you wish to move that particular member,” he explained. At length a boy named Wilkinson aroused his ire by his apparent inattention to the lesson.

“Hold out your hand, Wilkinson,” he said.

Wilkinson did not stir.

“Why don’t you hold out your hand?” cried the master, furiously. “Please, sir, I’m waiting for the message from the brain,” said Wilkinson coolly.

Miller was awakened by the sound of heart-rending sobs from his wife. He listened for a minute or two. The sobbing continued. “Darling,” he exclaimed, “whatever is the matter?”

“I’ve been dreaming, George,” she explained. I was in a very big shop where there were husbands for sale at bargain prices. You could get beautiful ones for ten pounds, and quite nice-looking ones for as little as three-ten!”

“Were there any like me?” asked George, innocently. The sobs increased suddenly. “Dozens and dozens!” gasped the wife. “And they were done up in bundles like asparagus and marked ten-and-six a bunch!”

A man called on an opticitn to have his eyes tested. The optician took him into his consulting room and proceeded to put him through the usual tests. “Can you read that?” he asked, holding up a card. “No,” said the man.

The optician brought it much nearer. “Can you read it now?” he asked. “No,” said the man.’ Finally the optician brought the card right under the man’s nose. “No,” said the client. “I can’t read it. As a matter of fact, I never could read.”

An uneducated man had the luck to make a fortune. One day he and an acquaintance were talking when the -latter' said:

“Perhaps you have got heaps of money, but can’t spell your own name. I bet you can’t spell ’cat’ even.”

“K-a-t,” said Duncan. “There you are,” laughed the other. “I knew you couldn’t. I’ll bet you ten shillings you can’t spell it now.”

“Right,” snapped theu neducated one. “I’ll take you. C-a-t.” “But you didn’t spell it.that way at first,” protested his friend. “Well,” said Duncan, “I wasn’t betting then.”

The foreign gentleman burst into the hotel manager’s office in a rage. “Vot does it mean?” he cried. “You have put in my room a pan of water and some dog-biscuits It is an insult to me!”

The manager was surprised, and sent for his man.

“Jenkins,” said the manager, severely, “why have you put water and dog-biscuits for this gentleman’s meal?”

“Well, sir,” said the man, “you clearly said, ‘Get room number nine ready for an Alsatian.’ ”

“What is a statesman?” asked the school inspector of five-year-old Freda.

“A man who goes about making speeches,” answered the little girl. “Fair, but not quite correct,” said the inspector. “I myself sometimes make speeches, but I am not a statesman.”

“I know,” returned Freda, smiling brightly, “a statesman is a man who makes good speeches!”

“What was the number of the car that knocked you down?” the constable asked old Wise, the mathematics professor.

“Well, constable, I can’t recollect the exact number,” he replied, “but I distinctly remember noticing that if it were multiplied by itself the cube root of the product would be equal to the sum of the digits reversed.”

“How long have they been married?” “Oh, a year or so.” “Has she made him a good wife?” “Can’t say, but I know she has made him a good husband.”

The young man was strolling up and down outside the park waiting for his girl. Getting tired, he leaned against the railings, which, he discovered, to his horror, were freshly painted.

Further down the road he saw the painter still busy. Going up to him he said, indignantly: “Here, why don’t you put ‘Wet Paint’ on these railings?” The painter looked at him and said: “Why, I am doin’ that, ain’t I?”