Model (mindful of instructions of local photographer’s). It ain’t the sitting still, mister. It’s the ’olding me breath!
According to a most unlikely story, the late Phil May was once on his uppers in a small town in Australia. To stave off starvation he sought and found employment as a waiter in a fourth-class eating house. One day a man who had known the artist in London dropped in and took a seat at one of the tables. When May went to take his order mutual recognition followed.
“Phil May!” the visitor exclaimed. “And compelled to work in a hole like this!”
“Yes,” retorted the artist indignantly. “I’ve sunk pretty low, but I haven’t yet got so far down that I have to eat here.”
WHOLESALE!
Patron (yawning). Augh, well, these sort of things are all much the same to me. I’ll take a lot by weight—mounts and all. How much a pound for this lot?
“QUALIFICATIONS.”