“I’ve just had some good news,” said Bearnstean, upon meeting his friend Mr. Abrahams. “My son Solly has got a commission in the Army.”
“Go on,” replied Abrahams, rubbing his hands; “how much?”
NOT HIS KIND OF JEWELRY
Tommy: “Look ’ere, Jack, now you’re for Blighty, why don’t you make up to Kitty? Go in and win, mate! Upon my life she’s a regular pearl!”
Jack: “That may be, but I can’t stand the mother of pearl.”
MORE DANGEROUS, ALSO
Corp—Can you think of anything more unmilitary than putting your hands in your pockets?
Sarg—Sure! Putting your hands in somebody else’s pockets.