Humour of the Week

Timaru Herald, Volume CXXV, Issue 18203, 2 March 1929, Page 14

Humour of the Week

A SURPRISED WAITER. A man of rather hasty temper entered a cafe, and was immediately approached by a waiter, who remarked cheerily : “T have devilled kidneys, pigs’ feet, and calves’ brains.” The diner surveyed him coolly. “Have yon,” he snorted. “Well, what are your ailments to do with me? I came in here to eat.” “HOW'S THAT,, UMPIRE?” A village cricket match was delayed for some time owing to the absence of .an umpire. The home skipper, recognising an acquaintance in the crowd, asked the man to officiate. He was willing to do so. “Aw, reet,” said the skipper. “We’re fieldin’ first. Whenever you hear anybody say ‘Hu2znt?’ you say, ‘Out.’ Later on, when we go in to bat, I’ll tell thee a bit more.” Gentility Left Off. Mrs Goldman lrrl recently engaged a new maid. She was a thorough’y good girl, truthful, honest, very willing and obliging, but she lacked tact. One evening, when her mistress was going out to dinner and the theatre afterwards, the maid noticed that a favourite rope of pearls was missing. “Ob, madam,” she cried, “where are vour lovely pearls to-night?” “I’m not wearing them, Winnie,” replied Mrs Goldman. “I don’t fancy them to-night.” “Oh, what a pity, ma’am!” exclaimed the new maid wistfully. “An’ they make you look so like a real lady!” The Wrong Box. An enthusiastic playgoer, who wanted to see a certain musical comedy which has made a name for itself in its first performance, rang up the box oce and asked for a box for two people. ‘But we don’t keep them for two', sir, cable the somewhat startled reply. “I know that,” returned the playgoer. “I know they usually hold four, but I want a complete box.” There was no ansyer from the other end, merely a gasping sort of sigh. “Is that the Revelry Theatre?” asked the angry man. “Why the—” “No sir,” came the rep'y. “This is an undertaker’s.” The Brutal Truth. Ho descended from the platform at the end of his speech, and many people pressed forward to shake him by the hand. The lecturer accepted their congratulations with a smiling face, but his eyes were on a certain man who lingered in hsi seat. He pressed through the throng and extended his hand to the waiting man. “I want to thank you,” he began, “for the close attention you have given me. Your upturned face has been an inspiration throughout the evening.” H’m,” returned the man, still looking upwards. “Don’t flatter yourself all over. I’ve had a stiff neck for three weeks.” THE KLEPTOMANIAC. Cynic: “What do j'ou think of the many arrests for kleptomania that come before the courts?” Philosopher: “Most of them are entirely innocent of all intent to do wrong, the trinkets being mechanically dropped into pocket or satchel, while thinking of something else.” Cynic: “All bosh! They are thieves —born thieves; that’s my theory, no matter how rich or refined they are.” Philosopher: “Possibly. But before we part I will thank you for my pen‘knife, which you borrowed a moment ago to sharpen a pencil. While we were talking you dripped it into your pocket.” * “SEEING THINGS.” An officer inspecting sentries guarding the lines during the annual territorial manoeuvres came across a rawlooking infantryman. “What are you here for?” he asked sharply. “To report anything unusual, sir.” “What would you call unusual?” “I dunno exactly, sir.” “H’m” said the officer. “Then what would you do if you suddenly saw five battleships steaming across the Waikato fields?” This time the sentry was at no loss “I’d sign the pledge, sir!” he said.

ASKED AND ANSWERED. The would-be poet had once again presented himself in the editorial offices of a certain newspaper. Thn editor looked up and waved him away angrily. “No more from you!” he cried. “I shan’t use any of your stuff for a very long time!” His contributor was hurt. “i didn't wish to sell you any more of my poetry,” he retorted proudly. “Ail 1 want to know is whether any of your readers have said anything about it.” “They have,” weakly replied the other. “Several persons of the same name as yourself have had notices inserted denying any relationship with the author of the poems.” NO CLAIMANTS. “So you saw the woman drop her purse,” said Jones to his friend, “but lost her in the crowd. Did you advertise?” “Oh, yes,” was the reply, “but I didn’t get an answer. I put this in the papers: ‘lf the plain woman, about 45 years of age, wearing a dress and hat of last year’s style, who lost a purse containing seventeen shillings and threepence, in Oxford Street oa Saturday, will apply to , the property will be returned.’ ” “Good heavens, may,” said his friend, “no wonder you didn’t get an answer! No woman in the world would own up to that description for seventeen and threepence!” THAT STOPPED HIM. A flapper visited her rich relations and was shown over the grounds by an e'derli' gardener. At the end of the visit of inspection they were upon quite friendly terms. The old man, who had attended gardening lectures in his younger days and wished to impress upon the young lady the fact that he was no common flower doctor, expressed the knowledge of agriculture and horticulture to such an extent that his companion became absolutely bored. “Why do old bean-stalks rot?” asked the celery-planter, with the intention of answering the question himself. “I’m sure I don’t know,” replied the girl. “But can you tell me why do ‘old beans* talk rot?” WONDERFUL HAT TRICK. He was an amateur conjuror, and on a long railway journey offered to entertain the other passengers with a few tricks. He performed several good ones, but one fellow looked on and at intervals made remarks such as “Everybody knows that one!” “Think we didn’t see where that went?” And “Why, my ten-year-old son can do all those tricks.” The entertainer took little notice of him, but at length asked the grumbler for the loan of his hat, a new bowler. The man objected, but at last handed over the hat with a very bad gl*ace. The conjuror borrowed a knife, sliced off the top. stamped oil both portions and said, “Now, that’s the first part of this trick. The second is putting it together again, and anyone can do that. Say, mister”—turning toward the grumbler—“you tell your son to show you how it’s done.” A TIME OF TRIAL. Timidly the little man entered the Court, which was, he noted with horror, already almost packed. Hundreds of people had, it seemed, gathered to gloat over the trial, which must, he felt sure, inevitably result in his downfall. It was hopeless. Why, he wondered, was all this publicity necessary? How much better to have settled the matter privctely. A hush descended on the assembly as the judge mounted the steps to his seat. The usual nerve-racking formalities were completed leisurely, and the little man’s ordeal commenced.

Nervously lie glanced across th« Court to the place from which his adversary—a famous K.C. and superlatively clever—opened the attack. From the start it was obvious that no mercy could be expected from him. If only—

“Ah, well, that’s how it usually feels in one’s first important tennis final!