WIT AND HUMOUR

Waipa Post, Volume 48, Issue 3479, 14 June 1934, Page 3

WIT AND HUMOUR

SLOW-WITTED. Mistress: Mary, what happened to the eggs? They are all hard-boiled, anil you know I like them soft. Didn ? t you time them? Mary: Yes) I did, mum, but the kitchen clock was slow!" GOOD AIR. "When I was a lad," continued the milljonajre, who was telling his fellow members at their annual dinner some of his troubles in early life. "I walked to Devonshire. I found a job, and after five years' hard work, managed *° save enough to buy a bicycle." •There was a gasp of astonishment. "Ijpt long after this," began the other afresh, "I gpt a letter from home. Mother was very ill. So I jumped on my bicycle and rode tp London, just in time to hear the doctor say that Devon air was the only thing that would save mother.?' His audience gasped. "You didn't take her back?" they said. ' No," replied the millionaire, "I dragged the old bike into the room, let the wind out of the tyres, and mother's alive to-day." VISIBILITY CONVINCED. The new restaurant had opened its doors for the first time, and quite a flutter ran through the place as the first customer, a man, strolled in and ordered lunch. The waiter broughjt him a pf soup, and on his heel ? came the beaming proprietor. " "Welcome to my establishment, sir," he said, "and I trust that my catering will merit your regular patronage. My sole object is to ensure satisfied customers, without the slightest reason for complaint, and I shall esteem it a favour if anything y/ftich dops not quite please a clienf is at once brought to my notice. In every case my customers must be Suited, sir. Is that clear." The patron looked askance at his soup. 'Too clear," he grunted.

CALISTHENICS? Patient: Doctor, Fm<bothered witty a queen pain. When I bend forward, stretch put my arms, and make 9 semi circular movement with .them, a sharp sting comes in my left shoulder. Doctor: But why make sucty motions? Patient: Well, if you know any other way for a man to get on his overcoat, I wish you'd let me know. "Next case," called put the clerk, and a middle-aged Irish couple were ushered into the court-room. They made a pitiful picture—the strong, healthy, tall, broad woman, and her poor, meek, battered little husband. The magistrate adjusted his glasses, then turned to the man, and said, "You are accused of beating your wife. What have you to say?" "Guilty, sir," replied the little man without a moment's hesitation. "Thirty shillings or seven days," said the magistrate. After the session was over one of the Court officials asked the magistrate if he hadn't been rather severe in punishing the little fellow. "Oh, no," exclaimed the magistrate. "I had to give him something for bragging." __ L ______ mmmmm