HE COULDN’T STAND IT.

New Zealand Illustrated Sporting & Dramatic Review, Volume XVII, Issue 961, 6 August 1908, Page 23

HE COULDN’T STAND IT.

A muscular Irishman strolled into the examination room where candidates for the police force are put to a physical test. ‘fStrip,” ordered the police sergeant. •< “What’s that?” demanded the uninitiated. “Get your clothes off, and be quick about it,” said the doctor. The Irishman disrobed, and permitted the doctor to measure his chest and legs, and to pound his back. “Hop over the bar,” ordered the doctor. The man did his best, landing on his back. “Now, double up your knees and touch the floor with your hands.” He sprawled face downward on the floor. He was indignant, but silent. “Jump under the cold shower,” ordered the doctor. “Shure, that’s funny,” muttered the applicant. “Now run round the room ten times to test your heart and wind,” directed the doctor. The candidate rebelled—“Oi’ll not; I’ 1 sthay single.” “Single?” asked the doctor, surprised. “Sure,” said the Irishman, “what’s all this fussing got to do with a marriage license?” He had strayed into the wrong office. A Newcastle collier, who had a very bad leg, was plainly told by his medical attendant that his love of drink was the cause of his disease, and that he must either give up his ale or lose his leg. He had no more hesitation about it than had Tennyson’s Northern Farmer in a similar predicament. “If this ‘ere leg winna stand a drop o’ good ale, I’ll hae nowt to do wi’ it!”