Humour of the Week

Timaru Herald, Volume CXLIII, Issue 20782, 17 July 1937, Page 10 (Supplement)

Humour of the Week

Ship's Wash Then there was the silly little thing who thought a ship’s wash was done in the laundry. Buried Gold Dentist (drilling away): “Why .this tooth has gold in it! I didn’t know it had been filled.” Patient: “It hasn’t. That’s my back collarstud you’ve struck.”

Do Cows Fly? “That new farmhand is terribly Ignorant.” “How’s that?” "He found some milk bottles in the grass and insisted he had found a cow’s nest." He went Home Sober "Did ye hear about McPherson?” asked one ship’s engineer of another in the wee pub. in the by-street. "What aboot him?" “Well, last time he came ashore he went home sober, and yon dog o’ his bit him.” No Need The minister was visiting one of his parishioners, and was talking to her small son. “And do you say your prayers every night, Jimmy?” asked the clergyman. “Not every night,” blithly replied the lad. “Some nights I don’t want anything.” Just Dumb A teacher was dealing with the meanings •' of familiar phrases. His pupils had been answering well until he came to “mumbo-jumbo." There was an awkward silence, which wa. broken at last by a boy calling out, "Mumbo-jumbo means a dumb elephant, sir." Show-down “You look very downcast.” “Yes, my wife has been away for six months.” “Well?’’ “I wrote to her every week and said I spent my evenings at home. She's back now, and the electric light bill has come in—lt’s half-a-crown!” A Small Matter Thz wireless dealer had just succeeded in selling the most expensive all-wave radio-gramophone in the shop, and was mentally spending the com-' mission on the deal when his customer’s voice brought him back to earth. “There’s just one little adjuctment I’d like you to make,” she said. "Yes, madam?” “We’re not fitted with electricity,” she told him, “so will you have it converted, please, for gas?” Quits The irate customer marched into the clothing shop. “What kind of a business do you carry on here?” he demanded. “What do you mean?” countered the proprietor. “What is wrong?” "What’s wrong?” howled the customer. "I bought a grey suit here and it didn’t even last me two months.” ‘ls that so?” returned the proprietor. "Well, how about the £5 you paid for that suit? It didn’t even last me two days.” Fair Do One evening at dinner a big game hunter told a story which, though perhaps a little exaggerated, was doubtless substantially true. A Scotsman, however, immediately capped it with an account of a fishing adventure in which he landed a sea serpent 200 ft long. The hunter was offended and left the table. “Now, Mr McPherson,” said the host, “you've insulted a friend of mine and ought to apologise.” “Weel,” said MrPherson, “if he’ll tak’ a wee bit off that tiger, Ar’ll see what Ah can do about ma serpent.”

Three Feet in His Sock “He stood six f?et In his socks” is how the sailor hero of a amazing story is described. He must have had three in each. The Drawback “Why don’t you advertise?” asked the representative of a newspaper of a man in a small way in business in a small town. “Because I'm agin’ advertisin', ” the man answered. “But why are you against It?” “It don't leave a man no time,” was the reply. “I advertised wunst last summer and the consequence w’uz I wuz so busy I didn't have no time to go fishing the whole season.”

Dockside Dialogue “What’s that boat loaded with?” “Petrol." “Ah, that makes the car-go." Homesick "Don’t you ever get homesick?” asked one of the women passengers of the second officer. “Oh, no!” replied the simple sailor. “We’re never at home long enough.”

Every Man to his Trade Woman Hooking at portrait): "But you’ve not made my husband look very Intelligent.” Artist (looking at husband): "Madam, I’m an artist, not a plastic surgeon.” Rhyme and Reason When he got home at 2 a.m. He loudly banged the door, No creeping up the stairs for him, He stamped across the floor; He wasn’t scared, like you or me, He was a bach-e-lor. Suspicion Movie Star: "And so this is the home of your ancestors?” Bridegroom: “Yes, dearest.” “Well, it looks durned familiar to me. Are you quite sure I haven’t been married to you before?" Real Old Stuff Mistress: “Be careful how you clean these pictures, Jane; they are all old masters." Maid: “Good gracious ma’am, I didn’t think you’d been married all those times!" Encore A Scotsman who had lost his way on the Alps was found by one of the St. Bernard dogs. He helped himself to the flask of liquor, patted the dog, and settling himself comfortably, said, "Noo, gang and bring me the hale pack." Falling Leaf “And then,” said the man in the witness-box, “my wife hit me with an oak leaf." "Well, that couldn't have hurt you," remarked the magistrate. “Oh, yes, it did, sir. It was from the centre of our dining-room table.” Just as Well A London coroner is telling the story of a death certificate which reached him recently. In the column reserved for “cause of .death” the doctor had signed his own name. The coroner returned the certificate with a note which said: “This may be true, but don’t you think we had better have some scientific reason as well!" No Hurry The inhabitants of a village, after a lot of trouble, had obtained a post office. It was situated in a general grocer’s shop. But every day complaints about the non-arrival of letters came through to the grocer. At last he get exasperated, and, pointing to a corner, cried: “Look you—there is the bag; it’s not half full yet, an’ I’m not sending it aw'ay until I have it filled. Just a waste of time, I say.” Information Wanted The village fire engine was careering toward a small hamlet. Suddenly a hefty housewife left a group of her cronies and, dashing into the middle of the road, waved her arms frantically in front of the oncoming engine. The driver pulled up with a jerk.

"Where’s the fire?" he shouted. “Well, that takes the cake!” retorted the woman. “That’s what we all want to know!”

A New Excuse Police Officer: "How did the accident happen?” Motorist: “My wife fell asleep In the back seat.” Whoopee! Two farmers decided on a trip to the big city they had never seen. They feasted their eyes on the wonders of the town and then entered a hotel. "We’d like to stay here for the night,” said the elder. "Certainly, gentleman," greeted the clerk politely. “Would you like a room with a bath?" The elder farmer hesitated. “Go on, Oliver,” urged his pal, "be a sport. We only live once!”

FASHION’S AT ASCOT At Ascot it was noticed that a number of handsome women with grey or greying hair had had it treated with something that made it very blue. Blue curls were the frame for small close-fitting hats, and it was apparent that those with blue-grey hair are proud of it. Very important at the moment is the exact matching of dress details, for hat, bag, gloves, and shoes should be dyed to one uniform tone. Every welldressed woman at Ascot saw to it that all these etceteras did correspond in shade. The Begum Aga Khan, one of the most elegant of Frenchwomen and one who wears her clothes beautifully, was a striking figure on the first day, when she wore a white crepe dress patterned in deep Indian red and a large hat, gloves, and shoes of this uncommon and distinguishing colour. Her short, full-sleeved coat was of mink.

Millinery provided the greatest surprises at Ascot. Enormous hats—which often obviously were trying in the wind —vied with little straw bonnets having chin strings, and with little head coverings of invisible tulle that were the excuse for a rose or rosette on the brow which had the appearance of having alighted there by accident. Bonnet shapes of straw or silk had either wide fronts or very high fronts made of upstanding erections of wired lace, imparting an air of surprise to the pretty face below.

Upturned sailor shapes Spanish in idea were numerous, but they were not

so sure to "stay put” as were mushroom lines with drooping brim. Halo hats were the frequent choice of the pretty young debutante, a detail that imparts additional charm being the cluster of roses which rests on the hair in front, while the halo brim set well back looks like a big Catherine wheel. One day the Duchess of Kent wore a large drooping-brimmed hat of cornflower blue straw, with flat velvet bows under the chin. The next day she wore a large upturned hat that would have been more comfortable if it had had a tie beneath the chin. Some hats worn were like pyramids draped with crisp veils. One veil seen was half royal blue and half cherry red. Maybe the two-colour idea will develop. It is rather attractive. Hats in spreading style may have no trimming on top, but long ends of tulle attached under the brim to fall nearly to the waist behind. WHY NOT TAX BORES? Bachelors breathe again. Debutantes face their seasonal ordeal with renewed confidence. Cats and cosmetics are reprieved, and so is beer. In tricycling circles there is seemingly jubilation. For from these and other curiously asserted sources it was suggested to Mr Chamberlain that he should extract additional revenue; and he has publicly rejected them all. By so doing (observes a 'Times' leader writer), he has dashed a number of fondly cherished hopes; but it cannot be doubted that others are kindling in their place. Breathes there a taxpayer with soul so dead who never to himself hath said: “Now if I were Chancellor I should tax ‘canaries’”? Or gramophones, or top-hats, or what you will. Few fads are more persistent or more agreeable than the concoction of fiscal panaceas, and it is reasonably certain that the Chancellor’s postbag is already bulging with fresh suggestions as well as with less original complaints. It is to be hoped at least, in passing, that some attention will be given to any who may urge a tax on bicycles; the cyclist has enjoyed for long enough the free use of roads on which he causes a substantial proportion of the accidents. But this project has been mooted before. What is needed is an entirely new departure, a raid on some hitherto untapped, some almost unsuspected, reserve of taxability. Many, seeing how wide the fiscal net is spread already, will hold that no such reserve exists; and there are moments indeed when it appears that—save by introducing some arbitrary and freakish measure, such as a tax on the noses through which we are compelled to pay —our rulers can hardly mulct us any further. Yet there does remain one form of impost which could be applied with the minimum of injustice and with considerable profit to the Treasury. There ought to be a tax on bores. Bores, after all, are a wholly unproductive class. There is nothing to be said for them. There are, it is true, a few eccentrics who take a morbid, almost a flagellant’s, pleasure in the company of these public menaces, boasting how this one talked for 90mip without a break, how that one told the same anecdote thrice in an evening; but the recondite hobbles of these perverted connoisseurs must not be allowed to stand in the way of the public weal. The vast majority of the nation would welcome a tax on bores for its Imposition would, save in incurable cases, curb their devastating activities.

Nor would such a tax be difficult to collect. The machinery would be analogous to that which governs the issue of motor licences. Everyone who wished to exercise the power of speech would, at an early age. be granted a permit to do so; a nominal fee of (say) twopence would be charged. That, for most of us, would be the end of our obligations. But not for the bores. As soon as these pestilential creatures began to show themselves In their true colours (statistic ■ prove that your true bore more usually finds Its length during his second year at university), then it would be the duty of their victims to inform against them. The case of any conversationalist against whom more than the statutory number ofcomplaints were lodged with the authorities would be investigated by experts (a squad of highly-trained t dium-diviners would be attached to the Commissioners of Inland Revenue). Charges of prosiness, redundance, garrulity, and anecdotage would be carefully investigated; the bore, if found guilty, would be fined; and in serious cases his permit to exercise the power of speech would be endorsed. The only possible criticism of this fiscal project Is that revenue from it, though impressive If not staggering at first, would tend to decline; for the bores would learn caution and put a guard on their tongues. But It will be a long time before the species is extinct; and, when it is, who will grudge another sixpence of the income tax by way ot a thank offering

To remove paint stains from clothing, soak the spot well in equal parts of ammonia and spirits of turpentine. Repeat two or three times if necessary, and wash out in soapy water.