I came away feeling thoroughly fashionable, but also dejected beyond words, for he had condemned me to a régime from which every spark of happiness was excluded.
I have since become a source of embarrassment to my friends, for more than half the nice things that everyone else eats and all the nice things that they drink are denied me. U.A. forbids.
Wine—oh no. Spirits—not on your life. Underdone beef—poison. Tobacco—very unwise. And so forth.
As for my own kitchen, which does not think very quickly, it considers me mad; and after one of the melancholy meals that are now my lot I am disposed to agree.
The question I ask myself is, Which is it to be—a long life of joyless food and no U.A., or a shorter but merrier life with U.A. thrown in? And "What's the harm in a little U.A. anyway?" I say as I light a forbidden cigar.
However I answer the great problem, of one thing I am certain, and that is that with all this U.A. about there ought to be a restaurant with enough intelligence to provide an anti Uric Acid menu.
From a description of the German assaults at Verdun:—
"The last regiment, which attacked in ass formation, was terribly handled."
We understand that it was not led by the Crown Prince in person.