Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 156, Jan. 1, 1919Various
General
Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 156, Jan. 1, 1919
Various
English wit and humor -- Periodicals
_Second Official_. Then you evidently knew his name all along. Why on
earth did you ask me?
_First Official_. You see, it's like this. I had a bet on with a man at
the Club that out of ten Government officials not more than one would
know the Minister's name. You didn't, and you happen to be the ninth who
didn't, so I've won my bet. By the way, do you know what has become of
the _chef_ at the Giorgione?
_Second Official_. You mean old Savary, who was always gassing about his
descent from NAPOLEON'S General? I think he went back to Paris some time
ago.
_First Official_. Thanks; then I win my second bet--that out of ten
Government officials five would know _his_ name.
* * * * *
UNNATURAL HISTORY.
From a _feuilleton:_--
"She watched him catch the sticklebacks which were one day to turn
into frogs."
_Church Family Newspaper_.
* * * * *
"The Crown Prince expressed hope he would one day be able to return
to Germany and live there as a sample citizen."--_Bath Herald_.
We don't think quite so badly of the Germans as all that.
* * * * *
"To Property Owners and Hotel Proprietors.--Start Redecorating and
Repairs now, before the rush comes, and gives the boys returning a
chance for work."--_Provincial Paper_.
Personally, we shall postpone our order until the boys do come home.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Artist_. "I CAN'T AFFORD TEN POUNDS. MY BANK TELLS ME
I'M OVERDRAWN NOW."
_His Wife_. "SURELY YOU CAN GET IT AT ANOTHER BANK? THEY CAN'T ALL BE AS
HARD UP AS THAT."]
* * * * *
A CONSPIRACY IN THE POULTRY-YARD.
DEAR MR. PUNCH,--I suppose it must be conceded that practical jokes
have not the vogue that they once enjoyed. No longer do you discover
some fine morning that the street in which you live is blockaded
with furniture vans, all endeavouring to deliver furniture you don't
require and never heard of before, while your staircase is a mass of
flowers and fruit constantly increasing upon you and threatening
to smother you with their amount no less than with their scent. It
would gradually appear that the deliveries both of the flowers and
the furniture were being executed in accordance with the orders of
one of your friends, and that you had to grin and bear it as best
you might. I cannot say that the victim or the general public, when
they heard of it, looked upon it with any excess of enthusiasm.
Anyhow, practical jokes have gone out.
Yet there is a kind of practical joke which, so far as I know, has
never been played upon anybody, and which, if it wore played,
might provoke a considerable volume of laughter and no small
inconvenience. I have schemed it out and venture to submit the plan
to you.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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