“Ain’t no buttons on the towels, sir!”
LESS WAR NEWS WANTED
A well-known London journalist never uses a notebook, but jots down such events as appeal to him, with suggestions for his subsequent articles, on his cuffs. At first his laundress was much puzzled by these hieroglyphics, but as time went on she became able to read them, and apparently derived much benefit and pleasure therefrom.
One day the journalist received, with his laundered garments, a slip of paper on which was written:—
“Your last washing was very interesting, but we should be glad if you would give us more about ‘Scandals in high life,’ and less about the war.”
TWENTY STRAIGHT
Sergeant (disgustedly, to Private Jones, who is not exactly an expert at shooting)—“Ugh! don’t waste your last bullet. Nineteen are quite enough to blaze away without hitting the target once. Go behind that wall and blow your brains out.”
Jones walked quietly away, and a few seconds later a shot rang out.
“Great sausages, the fool’s done what I told him!” howled the sergeant, running behind the wall. Great was his relief when he saw Private Jones coming towards him.