IN LIGHTER VEIN.

Waipawa Mail, Volume LXV, Issue 182, 19 March 1937, Page 1

IN LIGHTER VEIN.

HUMOR OF THE MOMENT READY FOR THE ROAD. Lady: Now, James, are you sure you’ve got your license, insurance certificate, driving license, and that you know all the stop lights, pedestrian crossings, cattle crossing's, and all the other things? Chauffeur: Yes, ma’am. Lady: Then we will proceed at 15 miles an hour. MISUNDERSTOOD. A teacher in a Scripture class had asked his pupil what weapon Samson used to slay the Philistines and, failing to get an answer, sought to assist their memory by tapping his jaw with his fingers, saying at the same time: What is this? Promptly the whole class yelled, the jawbone of an ass, sir! THE SCOTTISH TRAIT. A girl was taking tea with an English woman, an Irish woman, and a Scots woman. “Please,” said the girl shyly, “my tea isn’t sweetened.” “I’m so sorry,” said the English woman. “Help yourself, my dear,” beamed the Irish woman. “Perhaps ye lievna stirred it?” said the Scots woman. THE WRONG TRAIN. “Why didn’t you put my luggage in here, as I told you?” thundered an irate passenger to the grizzled porter, ns the train moved out of the little Scotch railway station. ‘ ‘ Eli, mon, ’ ’ returned the other patlonisingly, “yer baggage is no sic a title as yerself. It was marked ' Edinburgh,’ and is on its way there. Ye’re in the wrang train.” THE SECRET SIGN. There was a lull in the business of the barber’s shop. “Nice to have a minute’s rest,” said one of the assistants, as lie watched the departure of the only customer. “Yes,” agreed the other. “By the way, Bill, you gave that old gent rather a nasty mt.” Bill nodded. “I know,” he said. “You see, I’m courting his maid, and that’s to let her know I an meet her on Tuesday night.” PRINCELY REMUNERATION. The porter, having deposited the luggage on the seat, stood by to reive his tip. 'The man carefully placed a penny in his hand. “Princely remuneration!” said the traveller, noting the porter’s disappointment. “Princely! Work it out. it took you thirty seconds to find me a seat. I’m paying you at the rate of ten shillings an hour!” PUSH AGAIN. “Here, boy,” said the motorist, “I want some petrol, and please get a move on. You ’ll never get anywhere in the world unless you push. Push is essential; when I was young I pushed, and that got me where I am.” “Well,” replied the boy, “we haven’t a drop of petrol in the place, so I reckon you’ll have to push again. ’ ’ LOST BALL. Two crack golfers had sliced their balls into the rough. They searched for their balls for a long time without success. After a quarter of an hour or so, a kindly old lady who had been watching the search, came up and spoke to one of them. “Excuse me, sh',” she said, “would it be cheating if I told you where they are?” “SUCK IT!” The manoeuvre season can always be relied upon for its crop of incidents which in part compensate for its dew-soaked nights and grey, drizzling dawns. On a recent occasion, a certain commander harried his troops into a favorite and much practised formation of his own invention. Proudly the report was sent off to the Brigade Commander—new and unacquainted idiosyncrasies—“l have formed lozenge. ” . . . . Back came the laconic reply: “Suck it!” LEFT OFF DRINKING. The artist was painting a sunset — vivid red, with blue streaks and green splotches scattered over the canvas. A farm hand stopped and watched him. ■ “Ah,” said the artist, looking up suddenly, “perhaps to you Nature has also opened up her sky pictures page by page? Have you seen the lambent flame of dawn leaping across the pellucid east? The red-stained sulphurous islets floating as if m a lake of fire in the west? The ragged clouds at midnight, black as ravens wings, blotting out the shuddering moon?” “No,” replied the farm hand, “not since I left off drinking hard cider.” WHIRLING JOE. “I’ve come to join my husband,” said the woman at the Golden Gate. “What is his name?” asked St. Peter as she passed through the gates. “Joseph Brown,” she replied. “I’m afraid I shall need more than that to identify him. You see, strange as it may seem, we have quite a number of Joseph Browns up here. Is there anything else you can think of to help me find him?” “Well, before he died lie told me that if ever I kissed another man he would turn in his grave.” “ Oh! I know the man, ” said St. Peter. “Up here we call him Whirling Joel"

“FORE!” A Jew was playing golf on a local course when he was hit on the back of the head by a ball played by a fellow-member. Ho turned round furiously and demanded to be recompensed. “I will sue you for five thousand pounds,” he shouted. “I said ‘Fore!’ ” the culprit replied. “All right,” said the Jew, mollified. “I’ll take that.” A CONTRETEMPS. He held the beauty in his arms. “Darling,” he whispered, “you are beautiful, divine.” Just then came a knock on the door. The gentleman’s face turned pale. “1 think that’s my husband,” trembled the beauty. The gentleman relaxed. ‘ ‘ Thank goodness, ” he sighed with relief. “For a moment I thought it was my wife!” SETTLED. The actress had a booking agent for her boy friend. One night they had a hectic argument because the agent was supposedly romancing another lady. “That settles it,” raved the agent after an hour's battle. “You and I are definitely through!” “That’s a fine way to treat me,” sobbed the actress. “And after I’ve given you 10 per cent, of the best years of my life!” MAKING HIM USEFUL. “It’s no good, sir,” said the departmental manager, making his report to the proprietor, “I can’t do a tiling with that new man Jones. He’s been tried in three departments, and he just sits and sleeps all day.” “That’s all right,” said the proprietor. “Just have him transferred to the pyjama department and fasten a card on him: ‘Our pyjamas are of such superior quality that even the man who sells them cannot keep awake.’ ” SAFETY FIRST. The clock had just struck three and the policeman was beginning to get suspicious of the man in evening dress who walked slowly along the street, crossing and recrossing the road. “Out rather late, aren’t you?” asked the constable. “Perhaps it is a bit late,” replied the man, “but it’s about the only chance a pedestrian has nowadays.” A LONG WAIT. A successful race meeting had concluded. At two o’clock next morningthe secretary of the course was called out of bed' by the telephone. A somewhat hazy voice asked: “Is that the secretary of the race eourshe?” “Yes,” was the reply. “Can you tell me when the eourshe will be opened again?” “What do you mean by waking me to ask that. The next meeting is in November.” “What! Next November?” “Yes, next November!” “H’m! That’s going to be awkward for me. You shee, I’ve just woke up ill the refreshment barU^_