JUST NONSENSE.

King Country Chronicle, Volume XXVI, Issue 3400, 30 July 1932, Page 4 (Supplement)

JUST NONSENSE.

A LITTLE LAUGHTER NOW AND THEN— J $ Bargain, Indeed. The arrival of triplets to her mother was told to Ethel, the ten-year-old daughter. “ Oh, dear,” sighed the little girl, “ mamma has been getting bargains again.” Not Mentioned. First Traveller: The manufacturers have made great strides with sewing machines of recent years. Second Traveller: Yes, and they have also made innumerable * bloomers.” The ’E’s and She’s. The man with unshorn locks and the huge butterfly tie entered the musical instrument shop. “ I want a violin string—an E string, please,” he said. The assistant was flurried. He searched feverishly through drawer after drawer. Then he turned to the customer. “I’m sorry, sir,” he began, “but I’m new to the bus'ness. P’raps you wouldn’t mind giving me a bit of ’elp. Fact is, these ’ere strings, look all the same to me, and I’m blessed if I can tell the ’e’s from the she’s.” Only Nine Each. Four Irishmen had finished a job, and wanted to go to Leeds. Asking how far the journey was, they were told thirty-six miles. Mick was the recognised leader, and, turning to the others, he said: “Sure an’ that’s only nine miles each—let’s walk it! ” Handicapped. On the screen were two heads very close together. The adoring hero was kissing the blonde heroine, to the accompaniment of sentimental music. A man in the cinema nudged his neighbour. , “My life has been wasted according to that,” he whispered, nodding to the screen. “ I’ve had three wives but I never kissed any of ’em the way that feller’s done it.” “ It’s never too late,” remarked the other man, who had a sense of humour. “It is,” was the sad reply. “ I’m so short-winded these days.” A Rotten Bowler. A spectator at a cricket match was very, disgusted with the players, and turning to the man next to him, said: “ Fancy putting on a rotten bowler like that.” “ Well,” returned the listener angrily, “ it’s better than your old straw, anyway! ” Singular and Plural. Schoolmaster: Now, I want yon totell me which one of these words are singular and plural. Tomkins, takethe first, “trousers.” Tomkins (after some deliberation): Singular at the top and plural at fee bottom. Martyr. The young curate spent twenty minutes explaining to a young class what a martyr was. “ Now,” said he,- “ what is a_ martyr? ” The answer he received and did • not expect was: “ Please, sir, suflhn’ red what you eat.” It Was the Reverse. Clustered round the tram stoppingplace were a number of small children accompanied by a woman. A tram car pulled up and they all got in. When the conductor came to coUbet the fares, he counted the children. There were twelve. “ Excuse me, madam,” he ventured, but are these all yours, or Ss it a picnic.” The woman glared at him. “ Sir,” she snapped, " these are all mine and it is no picnic.” A Lengthy Lawsuit. One of the witnesses in a ease being heard in the county court was a small boy of about eight, who had been caFed to give evidence on behalf of his father. When he stepped Into the witness box he created something of a sensation. His hat came down over his eyes, the tails of his coat reached nearly to the floor, and his trousers were so long that the knees were round his ankles. Even the judge could not sontain his mirth. “ Why do you come here dressed like that? ” he inquired. The youngster felt in fcis pocket and produced a summons, and, with a dignified air, pointed out the words: “To appear in his father’s suit.” Some Error. They were on their honeymoon and staying at a fashionable hotel. The bride had been doing some shopping, and on her return was suddenly confronted with the fact that she could not remember the number of their room. She tripped along the «orridor, but each door seemed to kuok alike. At last she came to one which looked familiar, and she gently tapped on the panel. “ I’m back, honey, let me in! ” she called. No answer. “Honey, honey, it’s I—your Queenie. do let me in.” Silence for a few seconds—then an unfamiliar man’s voice, cold and full of dignity, came from the other side of the door: “ Madam, this is a bathroom, not a beehive.”