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Read Ebook: Punch or the London Charivari Volume 152 May 30 1917 by Various Seaman Owen Editor
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Editor: Owen Seaman
VOL. 152.
May 30th, 1917.
CHARIVARIA.
Mr. WILL THORNE declares that a hotel in Petrograd charged him twelve shillings for four small custards. After all, the war spirit of Russia, it would seem, is not wholly dead.
According to officials of the Food Ministry, "domestic pastry" may still be baked. The idea is that this kind of pastry tends to decrease the total number of food consumers.
Allied control officers have discovered fifteen hundred tons of potatoes hidden in Athens. The Salonika expedition is now felt to be justified.
A certain Kingston resident, when out walking, wears a white band on his hat, the with words, "Eat less bread. Do it now." Eyewitnesses report that the immediate rush of pedestrians to the tea-rooms to eat less bread is most gratifying.
"The British loaf," according to Mr. KENNEDY JONES, "is going to beat the Germans." If grit can do it, we agree.
"Allotments under cultivation in Middlesex," says a weekly paper breathlessly, "if place end to end, would reach five miles." Of course it is not thought likely that they will be.
The father of a lad charged with embezzlement explained that since the boy was struck on the head with a cricket ball he could not keep a penny novel out of his hands. Speculation is now rife as to the nature of the accidents responsible for the passion that some people entertain for our more expensive fiction.
"It is possible," says a contemporary, "that an invention will one day be forthcoming which will make a clean sweep of the submarine." Meanwhile we must expect him to go on acting like the dirty sweep he is.
To meet the paper shortage, Austrian editors have determined to economise by reducing the daily reports of victories.
A London dairyman has been heavily fined for selling water containing a large percentage of milk.
"To tell the honest truth," said the Hon. JOHN COLLIER, giving evidence in the Romney case, "we artists do not think much of the art critics." It is this dare-devil attitude which distinguishes your real genius.
It is announced that four German War Correspondents have been decorated with the Iron Cross of the Second Class. We have always maintained that the War Correspondent, like his fighting brother, is not immune from the perils of warfare.
We are not surprised to learn that the mouth-organ is the favorite instrument among the soldiers in a certain Labour unit. The advantage of this instrument is that when carried in the pocket it does not spoil the figure like a cello.
Now that the shortage of starch supply will compel men to wear soft collars it is understood that Mr. GEORGE BERNARD SHAW, who already wears them soft, proposes to give up collars altogether, so as not to be mistaken for an ordinary man.
City business houses, it is stated, are adopting the practice of closing during the dinner-hour. The old fashioned custom of doing business and dining on alternate days had much to recommend it.
There was no sugar in England when Cr?cy and Agincourt were fought, as Captain BATHURST told the House of Commons recently. How the War Office did without its afternoon tea in those barbarous days it is impossible to conjecture.
The forthcoming Irish Convention is to be held, it is stated, behind locked doors. Why not add a charming element of adventure to the affair by entrusting some thoroughly absent-minded person with the key?
Lord ESHER believes that "our home-coming is not far distant." Meanwhile it is cheering to know that quite a number of our fellows are getting home on the HINDENBURG line.
"Walking canes for ladies with small round heads of ivory" are becoming increasingly popular, declared a contemporary. We ourselves would hesitate to lash the follies of smart Society in a manner quite so frank.
It appears that at the Bath War Hospital a hen lays an egg every day in a soldier's locker. Only physical difficulties prevent the large hearted bird from laying it in his egg-cup.
ZAMBI, a Zulu native, has just died at the age of a hundred-and-twelve. It seems that war-worry hastened his end.
From a dentist's advertisement:--
"TEETH EXTRACTED WITH THE GREATEST PAINS"
"Wanted.--Good cook-general, for very small Naval officer's family."
Intending applicants should exercise caution. A very small Naval officer may have a very large family.
"?5 REWARD--Lost from Ruislip , half-persian dark tabby tom cat."
And they tell us that a cat has only nine lives!
"There is no Hindenburg line."
For, though the boasted "line" of which No trace occurs on German maps Retains the semblance of a ditch, It has some nasty yawning gaps; It bulges here, it wobbles there, It crumples up with broken hinges, Keeping no sort of pattern where Our Push impinges.
O.S.
I met her at the usual place, and she looked much the same as usual--which astonished me rather.
"Now that we're engaged," I began.
"Oh, but we aren't," said Phyllis.
"Are you by any chance a false woman?" I asked. "You remember what you said last night?"
"I do, and what I said I stick to. But that was pleasure, and this is business."
I looked at her in sudden alarm.
"You're--you're quite sure you aren't a widow, Phyllis?"
"Quite. Why?"
"Talking of business at a time like this. It sounds so--so experienced."
"That means not till after the War, then," said I disconsolately.
"I'm afraid it does. But when once the War's over it won't be long before you'll be able to keep me in the style to which I'm accustomed, will it?"
"Years and years, I should think," said I, looking at her new hat. "It'll take at least a pound a day even to start with."
"Three hundred and sixty-five a year," said she thoughtfully.
"And an extra one in Leap Year," I warned her.
"Did I ever tell you," she asked with pride, "that I have money of my own?"
"Hurrah!" I shouted. "You darling! How splendid!"
"Jimmy," she said apprehensively, "you aren't marrying me for it, are you?"
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