"The War Office says there is no authority whatever for the statement that General Townshend would shortly be appointed Commander-in-Chief in the Tower Hamlets, F.C."—Star.
Mr. Punch begs leave to say that this item of football news did not appear in his columns.
PROCRASTINATION.
A few mornings ago I found among my letters a tragic document—a bill. A first quick glance at it filled me with despair, because I was luxuriating in that Fools' Paradise produced by the illusion that one is all paid up. Of course one never is; there is always something that one forgets, and this must have been it; so that, instead of perfect freedom from liability, here I was apparently still owing no less a sum than £5 9s.
The figures looked familiar enough, although disconcerting, but I rubbed my eyes when I found that they were made up of two items that had never come my way; the first being one-and-a-half dozen essences, £3 15s., and the second, a dozen poudre assortie, £1 14s. It could not be for me. Essences and powders wholesale are not in my line, nor is my acquaintance so extensive among the Fair as these quantities would imply.
A moment later all my anxieties dispersed and tragedy turned to comedy when I realised that the bill was for the hairdresser with the same name as my own, who lives next door but one and gets so much of my correspondence.
I therefore put the bill on my desk, intending to take it into the shop when I went out; and forgot it.