Read Ebook: Punch or the London Charivari Volume 156 March 12 1919 by Various

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VOL. 156.

MARCH 12, 1919.

CHARIVARIA.

The spread of influenza is said to be greatly assisted by "germ-carriers." We can't think why germs should be carried. Let 'em walk.

"Whitehall," says a Society organ, "has succumbed to the Jazz, the Fox-trot and the Bunny-hug." It still shows a decided preference, however, for the Barnacle-cling.

A man charged at the Guildhall with being drunk said he was suffering from an attack of influenza and had taken some whisky. Yes, but where from?

We understand that the heading, "Whisky for Influenza," which appeared in a daily paper the other day, misled a great number of sufferers, who at once wrote to say that they were prepared to make the exchange.

It is good to know that a perfectly noiseless motor car has been produced. Even that nasty grating sound experienced by pedestrians when being run over by a car is said to have been eliminated.

Shrove Tuesday passed almost unheeded. Even the pancake thrown to the boys at Westminster School in the presence of the KING and QUEEN appeared to fall flat.

We are glad to learn that the little Kensington boy who was tossed by a huge pancake on Shrove Tuesday is stated to be going on nicely.

Five hundred and twenty-seven pounds of American bacon have been declared unfit for food by the Marylebone magistrate. Why this invidious distinction?

"A man," says Mr. Justice KUNKEL of Pennsylvania, "has full rights in his own home against everyone but his wife." It is surmised that his Honour never kept a cook.

We are informed that the dispute between the Ministry of Labour and the Irish Clerical Workers' Union has been settled by the latter name being changed to the "Irish Clerical Employees' Union."

Mr. LLOYD GEORGE is said to favour the creation of a new Order for deserving Welshmen. The revival of the Order of the Golden Fleece is suggested.

A writer in a ladies' journal refers to the present fashion of "satin-walnut hair." We have felt for some time that mahogany had had its day.

Charged at Hove with bigamy a soldier stated that he remembered nothing about his second marriage and pleaded that he was absent-minded. A very good plan is to tie a knot in your boot-lace every time you get married.

A sorry blow has been dealt at those who maintain we are not a commercial race. "You gave me prussic acid in mistake for quinine this morning," a man told a chemist the other day. "Is that so?" said the chemist; "then you owe me another twopence."

For the benefit of those about to emigrate we have pleasure in furnishing the exclusive information that very shortly there will be big openings in America for corkscrew-straighteners.

We are now able to state that the wedding of Princess PATRICIA and Commander RAMSAY passed off without a hymeneal ode from the POET LAUREATE.

We understand that a lady operator who was impudent to the District Supervisor on the telephone the other day would have been severely reprimanded but for her plea that she mistook him for a subscriber.

It is reported that the paper shortage is soon to be remedied. In these days of expensive boots this should be good news to people who travel to and from the City by Tube on foot.

We hear privately that one of our leading dailies has fixed April 14th as the date on which its office "correspondent" will first hear the note of the cuckoo in Epping Forest.

Several suspicious cases of sickness are reported among the aborigines of New South Wales. It is not yet known whether they are due to influenza or to the native custom of partaking heavily of snakepie on the eve of Lent.

Nottingham will hold its six hundred and fifty-eighth annual Goose Fair this year, and a local paper has made a distinct hit by stating that it is "the oldest gathering of its kind except the House of Commons."

It certainly would be for Smith mi. if he said it in class.

We could spare some of our full-blooded, literary men if there is a shortage in America.

MONUMENTS OF THE WAR.

Let those who fear lest Memory should mislay Our triumphs gathered all across the map; Lest other topics--like the weather, say, Or jazzing--should supplant the recent scrap; Or lest a future race whose careless lot Lies in a League of Nations, lapped amid Millennial balm, be unaware of what we endured and did;--

Let such invite our architects to plan Great monumental works in steel and stone, Certain to catch the eye of any man And make our victories generally known; Let a new bridge at Charing Cross be built, In Regent Street a deathless quadrant set, And on them be inscribed in dazzling gilt:-- "IN CASE BY INADVERTENCE WE FORGET."

Or, eloquent in ruin unrestored, Leave the Cloth Hall to be the pilgrim's quest, Baring her ravaged beauty to record The Culture of the Bosch when at his best; At Albert, even where it bit the ground, Low let the Image lie and tell its fate, Poignant memento, like our own renowned ALBERT Memorial .

For me, the tablets of my heart, I ween, Sufficiently recall these fateful years; I need no monument for keeping green All that I suffered in the Volunteers; Therefore I urge the Army Council, at Its earliest leisure, please--next week would do-- To raze the hutments opposite my flat, That still impinge on my riparian view.

O.S.

A PAIR OF MILITARY GLOVES.

It was in Italy, on my way home from Egypt to be demobilised, that I decided to buy a pair of warm gloves from Ordnance.

After being directed by helpful other ranks to the A.S.C. Depot, the Camp Commandant's Office and the Y.M.C.A., I found myself, at the end of a morning's strenuous walking, confronted by notices on a closed door stating that this was the Officers' Payment Issue Department; that this was the Officers' Entrance to the Officers' Payment Issue Department; that smoking was strictly prohibited; and that the office would re-open at 14.00.

I went away to lunch.

At 14.01 I knocked out my pipe conscientiously and entered. From 14.01 to 14.50 I watched a Captain of the R.A.F. smoking cigarettes and choosing a pair of socks, and studied notices to the effect that this was the Officers' Payment Issue Department; that only Officers were permitted to enter the Officers' Payment Issue Department; that smoking was strictly prohibited; and that the office would close at 16.00.

At last I heard the B.A.F. man explain that, by James, he had an appointment at three, and would return, old bean--er, Corporal--in the morning to see about those dashed socks. The Corporal behind the counter blew away a pile of cigarette ash and regarded me distrustfully.

"Only one pair of gloves left, Sir," he said. "Gloves, woollen, knitted, pairs one, one-and-tenpence."

"Thank you very much," I said. "They'll do nicely. I'll take them now."

But of course I didn't. At 15.00 was in another building, watching another Corporal make out an indent in quadruplicate for gloves, woollen, knitted, officers, for the use of, pairs one. At 15.05 I was in another building, getting the indent stamped and countersigned. At 15.12 I was in another building, exchanging it for a buff form in duplicate. At 15.20 I re-entered the Issue Department and went through the motions of taking up the gloves.

"Excuse me, Sir," said the Corporal, skilfully sliding them away; "you must first produce your Field Advance Book as a proof of identity."

"If you haven't a Field Advance Book, Sir," said the Corporal coldly, "your only course is to obtain a certificate of identity from the Camp Commandant."

"But, look here, Corporal," I protested, "it would take me a quarter-of-an-hour to get to the Commandant's office and another quarter to get back. I'm sure I couldn't get a certificate of identity under an hour and a-half. It is now twenty-five past three. You close at four. To-morrow morning at five ac emma I entrain for Cherbourg.... You see how impossible it all is, Corporal."

"Sorry, Sir," said the Corporal. "I'm not allowed to issue the gloves without your Field Advance Book or a certificate of identity."

"But what am I to do?" I asked weakly. "Think, Corporal, how cold it will be across Italy and France without gloves. I've been in the East for over four years, and I might get pneumonia and die, you know."

"I should try the Camp Commandant, Sir," he said. "It may not take so long as you think."

At 15.41 I was outside the Camp Commandant's office with my A.B.64, identity discs, demobilisation papers and cheque-book ready to hand, and my tunic loosened at the neck.

At 15.42 I entered the office with some diffidence.

At 15.43 I was outside again, dazed and a little frightened, with a certificate of identity in my hand. It was the fastest piece of work I have ever known in the Army. And I might have been Mr. GEORGE ROBEY in disguise for all they knew in the office--or cared.

"Sorry, Sir," said the Corporal in the Officers' Payment Issue Department at 15.59, "the gloves were sold to another officer while you were away."

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