“Well, Pat, my good man, what did you do?” inquired a patronizing stranger of the Irishman back in London on leave, with his arm in a sling.
The stranger’s air annoyed Pat, who blandly said:
“Faith, an’ I walked up to one of them an’ cut off his feet.”
“Cut off his feet! Why not his head?”
“Sure, an’ that was already cut off.”
ANOTHER HUN ATROCITY
An officer recently on leave brought home and gave to a lady a bottle of eau de cologne found in a German colonel’s dugout.
She was at a dinner party shortly afterwards, exhibited it, and she and other ladies dabbed their faces with the perfume.
The room became very warm, and soon they were horrified by the appearance of black stains on their features.
The stuff was a hair dye, which only developed its color when heated. The worst of it was the stains did not disappear for some days.