A QUESTION

War Wit, Volume 1, Issue 10, 1 November 1941, Page 14

A QUESTION

Bill, having worked himself up to three-star rank through ability and pluck, and not giving a damn for anybody or anything, was often a source of merriment in the officers’ mess. '' . Becoming impatient after his third unsuccessful effort to persuade someone to ? pass the pickles Bill shouted: ■ “Will some —— l pass the pickles?” . The Colonel jumped. “Mr. , sir, I’d have you remember you are in an officer’s mess.” Bill was dumfounded. “GorBlime.” he said to his neighbour, don’t—officers eat — : —-pickles .

The large factory had organised its own Home Guard, and the men duly posted to -guard the works.

The manager approached the main entrance, and the. sentry, torn between duty and deference, challenged: “Halt, Mr. Brown! Who Goes There?”

Bert: “I \ wonder if Hitler gets any sleep these nights?”

Jim: “He should, He’s got 80,000,000 sheep to count.

“I am neutral on Adolf Hitler,“ declares Aimee Semple McPherson, sensational evangelist. “I don’t care who shoots him.” - ” ■ 't. ‘ . * * * News item: “Condensed Milk for Troops.” That’s something to sing about in the quartermaster’s store. * * ■ * ' ' , Britain has so far prevented things from going to Irak and ruin.. ? ' * * * U.S.A.’s motto: r Necessity is the mother of intervention'

. (Scene: A garrison town. Time: ; Sunset.) ■ ■ , 4 ... . Old Lady Visitor (startled as the gun is fired at sunset): Dear me! What’s that? z Native: Oh, it’s only the sunset! Old Lady: Why does your sun set here with a bang like that? It goes down quietly enough at our place'.

Give Hitler enough rope and he’ll hang his best friend.

Hitler was reviewing his troops and stopped to talk to one private. “How are -things with you?” he asked. . “Oh, I can’t complain, sir,” answered the soldier. “I’ll say you can’t,” agreed the Fuehrer. ■ * * * “I have never seen the English so- music-hungry.” — Dr. Malcolm Sargent. z Hell! Are they rationing it now?