ASSORTED WISECRACKS

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 82, Issue 305, 24 December 1938, Page 15 (Supplement)

ASSORTED WISECRACKS

Unscrupulous Nature. "You’re very interested in that stuffed bird,” said the ornithologist. “Yes,” said the aviation expert. “I think its steering gear infringes one of my patents.” Been Through It. “Have you the firmness of character that enables a person to go on and do his duty in the face of ingratitude, criticism and heartless ridicule?” “I ought to have. I cooked for a camping party last summer.” Pilot Knew. “Oh, yes,” said the pilot of the river steamboat, “I’ve been on this river so long I know where every stump is.” Just then the boat struck a stump, which shook it from stem to stern. “There,” he continued, “that’s one of them now.” Keeping Up. Green: You must be keen on the talkies, old boy, to go twice a week. Howarth: It’s not that exactly. You see, if I don’t go regularly I can’t understand what my children are saying. • • • - Hoping Against Hope. Vicar: I was grieved to hear your husband has gone at last. Mrs. Black: Yes, ’e ’as, sir, and I only hope ’e’s gone where I know ’e ain’t.” Detour. "This is the Gate of Heaven,” read the sign over the churchyard gate in front of a church which was being restored, while below was a notice in large letters: “Go Round the Other Way.’ Congenial Isolation. An Englishman and an American travelled in the same compartment on one of the Liverpool expresses. The former spoke not a word to his companion, who was the only other occupant of the compartment, and it was only when the train was crossing Runcorn Bridge that the American said: “Excuse me, sir, but your tie is riding up over the back of your collar.” “Well, what if it is?” was the curt reply. “Your coat pocket has been on fire this last five minutes, and I haven't bothered you.” Shouldn’t Wonder. A party of tourists were being shown over the cathedral by a guide. "Behind the altar,” he told them, "lies Richard the Second. In the churchyard outside lies Mary Queen of Scots, also Henry the Eighth. And who,” he demanded, halting above an unmarked flagstone, do you think is a-lying ’ere?” "Well,” answered a nearby tourist, "I don’t know for sure, but I have my suspicions.” Apology. The theatre was in an uproar. “They’re calling for the author,” said the manager. "But I can't make a speech!” replied the man responsible for the play. The manager grabbed the playwright and impelled him along the passage. As he shoved him' towards ; the curtain he said, curly: "Well, just go in front And tell them you’re sorry.”