HARD TO EXPLAIN.

War Wit, Volume 1, Issue 7, 1 August 1941, Page 12

HARD TO EXPLAIN.

“Even the railway ticket has its mysteries. Including, of course, the way it always turns out to be the wrong class when the ticket checkers get in.

After a shipwreck a sailor was washed up on a lonely island in the tropics. Thinking himself the sole survivor, and full of dread that the island might be inhabited by cannibals, he went exploring. Presently he saw smoke ascending from a clump of shrubs. Just as he was preparing to bolt, he heard a voice say: “ Why the did you play that card*? “ Thank Heaven—they’re Christians!” he exclaimed joyfully. * * * An Albanian was imprisoned by the Italians. He annoyed his captors intensely because he kept saying: “Anyway, the Greeks gave you a bashing at Koritza.” One day the officer in charge of the prison camp took him aside and said: “Look here, if you’ll be quiet I’ll make you an officer in the Italian army.” “ 0.K.,” said the Albanian. Next day Mussolini visited them, shook hands with the Albanian, and remarked: “So you are now an officer in the great Italian Army - “ That’s right,” came the answer. “ But, oh boy, what a bashing those Greeks gave us at Koritza!” ' ; ' '■ • :: ■ ■ '■ ' ' . * * * The char-a-banc,’ loaded with women, was about to start. Friend of driver passed. “ Ullo, Tom, fine morning; where be. going?” • • “ To Burnham.” “Be ee? Wait a minute, and I’ll get my old ’oman.” *** • \ A motor-cyclist, flying through a village, was pulled up by the police. “ I say, man, where’s your number plate ? ” “Number plate?”' The motorist turned round in surprise. “Number plate, be blowed. Where is my wife and side-car.” \ ;

The super-politeness one sometimes encounters in our large stores led to an amusing incident the other day. A man home on leave from the East visited a big emporium on the hunt for some clothes appropriate to this climate. He was met by a stately shopwalker. What is your pleasure, sir?” the shopwalker asked. ‘ The visitors eyes lit up. “ Do you have a bar here, then?” he asked.

A young officer stationed “ Somewhere in the East,” put his foot in it badly with his girl friend in this country. ' Recently he wrote to her saying he had shot a crocodile seven feet long, and added, “ When I shoot another I will get my native servant to make you a - pair of slippers.”

Why did that sister get so huffy when I asked her to get me a hotwater bottle for my feet? Well, you see, she’s the head nurse. . “ ’Struth! If you specialise like that,' can I get the foot nurse?” ', * * * When .petrol rationing was first introduced a motorist had a 50gallon tank of petrol as his reserve supply. A friend advised him, as a safety precaution, to bury it. Accordingly the motorist instructed his gardener to dig a hole at the bottom of the v garden , and bury the petrol. After a time the gardener returned. “ I buried the petrol,”; he said. “ What do you want done with the tank?” *• * *