IN LIGHTER VEIN

King Country Chronicle, Volume XXVI, Issue 3447, 19 November 1932, Page 7

IN LIGHTER VEIN

The teacher had remarked during* the lesson that a surname very often indicated the trade of the ancestors of those who bore the name. Questioning* one of the boys, she asked: “What were your ancestors, Webb?” He thought for a moment, then replied, “Spiders, Miss!” When Muriel obtained a temporary situation at a seaside town all her fair friends envied her. After a month she came back looking tanned but not pleased. "Hullo, Muriel!” cried someone on her return home. “Did you enjoy yourself? How many nice boys did you see?” “One!” snapped Muriel. “Only one?” echoed her friend, amazed. “Yes,” growled Muriel, “and that one was two miles out at sea, with a bell and a lamp on it.” Fussy Old Gentleman (to waiter) : Bring me a boiled egg—not too hard, and not soft. Waiter: Yes, sir. Anything else? Customer: Toast, thin, not too hard, but well browned. Waiter: Very good, sir. Any special design of eggcup, sir?

Sandy McHavish, having been induced to “bang saxpence” for a ticket in a local raffle, won the first prize—a horse and cart. When the prize was sent round to Sandy’s house he looked it over with a critical eye, and after walking round it twice, he remarked: “Aye, I thocht there wad be something* wrang wi’ it. Whaur’s the whip?” He had just finished an economic speech at an open-air meeting, and upon leaving the platform he was seized by some navvies and hoisted shoulder high. “Thank you, gentleman,” he said, “but I prefer to walk to my car.” “Car be blowed!” replied one of the navvies. “You’re going into the river!” First Actor: The last time I played in this part the people could be heard applauding ten blocks away. Second Actor: Is that so? What was going on there? “Can you tell me if I am on the right road for Mumble Magna, please?” the motorist inquired of the old rustic. “Aye, sir, that you be It be second turning on the left, just past the eleventh filling station.” “I never knew till I got a car,” said the vicar, “that profanity was so prevalent.” “Why, do you hear much of it on the road, sir?” asked the parishioner. “Dear me, yes!” replied the vicar. “Nearly everyone I bump into swears dreadfully!” A country parson went to preach in a remote parish one Sunday. ■ The old sexton, as he led him to the church, said deprecatingly:— “I hope your reverence won’t mind preachin’ from the chancel. You see, this is a quiet place, and I’ve got a hen sittin’ on 14 eggs in the pulpit.” Aristocratic Lady: Can you tell me where I can find my son, the Honourable Algernon Fitzgerald Percival Popplethwaite? School Captain: Hi, Mugface, your mother wants you. A discussion was going on in the office regarding a man who always seemed to be out of a job. “The trouble with Jones,” said 'one, “is that he is always untidy. He doesn’t keep himself clean.” Said another with a trace of bitterness, “Well, he ought to be clean. He’s always sponging.”

Host (doing the honours): And that’s a portrait of my great-grand-father. Visitor: Wonderful! Why he doesn’t look any older than you! Mrs. Brown: That young couple seem to have been courting a long time. I wonder if they will ever get married? Mr. Brown: Anyhow, they’ll never part. They’re both Scotch. “Sorry you are going. The place will seem quite empty without you,” said the host to the stout guest as he departed. Mrs. Smythe: I hear that your wife has given up motoring for tennis, Mr. Brown? Mr. Brown: Yes. At that, you see, she can drive and crash quite safely. ■ Murphy had been careless with the blasting powder in the quarry and Duffy had been delegated to break the news gently to the widow. “Mrs. Murphy,” said he, “isn’t it to-day the fellow calls for the payment of Murphy’s life insurance?” “It is,” answered Mrs. Murphy. “Well, now, a word in your ear,” said Duffy “Sure ye can snap your fingers at the fellow to-day.”

Little Anna asked her father why he didn’t have hair on top of his head. He answered: “For the same reason that grass won’t grow on a busy street. You know why now, don’t you?” “Sure,” she replied, “it can’t get up through concrete.” Magistrate: You admit tearing a handful of hair from your husband’s head? Defendant: I wanted to put it in a locket. “Yes,” said the meek little man at the quick-lunch counter, “I take my meals* at a restaurant every chance I get.” “Prefer restaurant cooking to the home brand?” asked the big fellow on the adjoining stool. “No, it isn’t exactly that,” replied the meek little man, “but I can give orders at a restaurant.” Demonstrator (explaining features of the motor car): Now I’ll thrown in the clutch. Man from Scotland: I’ll take her then. I knew if I held out long enough you would throw in something. Simpson: I wonder what kind of a line it is that Budkins uses when he goes fishing. It always breaks just as he is landing “the biggest fish you ever saw.” Sniffer: It’s nothing but “yarn.” Father came in to the kitchen in a very nasty temper. “Look here, Mary,” he said to his wife, “that boy of ours has taken some money out of my pocket.” “Oh, Herbert, how can you say such a thing,” reproved his wife. “You might as well accuse me.” “Not at all, Mary. It wasn’t all taken.” Penelope: All the world’s a stage. Harold: Yes, and jolly few husbands get a speaking part. Maiden Aunt: Your young* man usually seems to be late when he calls. I wouldn’t stand it myself. Girl: But auntie, dear, I’d sooner wait an hour than for ever. Smith: Hullo, Jones. I hear your wife is learning to drive your car? How’s she getting on? Jones: I’m afraid she took a turn for the worse yesterday, old man! With natural pedagogic pessimism the mathematics master was bemoaning the prospective fate of the class in the forthcoming examination. He impressed upon them that they stood not the slightest chance of passing in this particular subject. “The maths, papers,” he concluded, “are made 10 per cent, harder every year.” A stage whisper broke the silence that followed. “Now we know why he got through it.”

An R.A. stopped one day to be humorous at the expense of a pavement artist. _ i “What on earth is this supposed to be, indicating what appeared to be a fish. “A salmon, sir,” answered the street artist. “But have you ever seen a saimon?” .. . , “No, sir,” the man replied. But I believe that quite a number of academy artists paint angels.” “You are looking very well, sir.” “Yes; how old do you think I am?” “I suppose you must be about 80.” “No, not quite; I’m 72.” “Well, I never! You don’t look it. Daisy, who had been jilted by a fascinating stranger, was bemoaning her sad fate. . , , „ “Oh, what a silly girl Ive been, she sobbed to a select circle of her girl friends. “I’ve been one of the biggest fools, and never knew it. “Never mind, Daisy,” piped up her dearest enemy. “If you didn t know it, we did.” Wife (hurriedly): Is my hat on straight, dear? . , Husband: Yes, yes. Quite straight. Wife: Oh, dear, then I must go back. It’s not fashionable to wear this kind of hat on straight. She: We’ve been waiting a long time for my mother. He: Hours I should say. She (rapturously): Oh, George! The husband was leaving for the races, and his not very long wedded wife was giving him some last instructions. . ... “You’ll back that nice-looking horse we saw on our honeymoon, dear? The aristocratic-loolcing one. I’m sure he ought to win. “Yes, pet,” replied the adoring husband, as he kissed her good-bye. At 6 p.m. he- returned. “Well, and how did the aristocratic one get on?” inquired the wife eagerly. “Like so many aristocrats. He was the last of his race.”