PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

Vol. 159.

September 22nd, 1920.

CHARIVARIA.

"'Strike while the iron is hot' must be the motto," says a business man. Mr. Smillie, on the other hand, says that it doesn't so much matter about the iron being hot.

A curious story reaches us from the Midlands. It appears that it had been decided to call out the workmen in a certain factory, but the strike-leader had unfortunately mislaid his notes and could not remember their grievance.

Mr. C.B. Cochran has decided to have nothing further to do with the promotion of boxing-matches owing to the way in which contracts are continually being broken. It has since been reported that several of our leading professional boxers are endeavouring to arrange a farewell disappointment.

Mr. Evans, the American golf champion, has invented a new putter. We appreciate America's effort, but all the same we cannot forget her apathy toward the League of Nations.

Last week the largest number of Alpinists ever assembled met on the top of the Matterhorn. If this sort of thing goes on it is quite likely that the summit will have to be strengthened.

Colder weather is promised and the close season for Councillor Clark should commence about October 1st.

"The ex-Kaiser," says The Western Morning News, "goes in daily fear of being kidnapped." This is said to be due to the presence at Amerongen of an enterprising party of American curio-hunters.

A headline in a weekly paper asks, "What will Charlie Chaplin Turn out this Year?" "His feet," is the answer.

The language at Billingsgate, according to Sir E.E. Cooper, is much better than it used to be. Fish porters invariably say "Excuse me" before throwing a length of obsolete eel at a colleague.

In the event of a miners' strike arrangements have been made for the staff of the Ministry of Transport to sleep at the office. It would be more wise, we think, if they remained wide awake.

A feature of the new motor charabanc will be the space for passengers' luggage. This is just what is wanted, as it so easily gets broken even if the corks don't come out.

A message from Allahabad states that the appointment of Mr. Winston Churchill as Viceroy of India would be very popular. Unfortunately they omit to say where it would be popular.

"Drink is Scotland's greatest sin," said a Prohibitionist speaker at Glasgow. The gentleman does not seem to have heard of haggis.

Asked what he would have, a Scotsman, taking advantage of its high price, replied, "A small petrol, please."

The National Gallery with its three thousand pictures is practically priceless, we are informed. This probably accounts for the fact that the hall-porter invariably takes visitors' umbrellas as security.

What is now wanted, says a contemporary, is a good spell of fine weather. We feel that no good can be done by rubbing it in like this. The Daily Mail is doing its best.

We understand, by the way, that The Daily Mail has definitely decided not to offer a prize of a hundred pounds for a new world, but to leave the matter entirely in the hands of Mr. Lloyd George.

The Astronomical Correspondent of The Times suggests that the new star may have been produced through a sun being struck by a comet. This raises the question as to whether suns ought not to carry rear lights.

There is some talk of a series of week-end summers being arranged for next year.

"If necessary I will walk from John-o'-Groats to Land's End, distributing propaganda literature all the way," announced a well-known strike agitator at a recent conference. Personally we do not mind if he does, provided that when he reaches Land's End he continues to walk in the same direction.

According to a weekly journal the art of camouflage played a most important part in recent naval warfare. It is, of course, quite an open secret that the Naval authorities are aware that one of our largest Dreadnoughts is somewhere in a certain English harbour, but, owing to the excellence of its camouflage, they have not yet been able to locate it.

We now learn that it was merely through an oversight that the pit ponies did not record their votes at the strike ballot.

"Who's Bill 'Iggins playin' for this season?"

"Oh, 'e ain't signed on yet, but we've offered him first suck at the lemon."

The Journalistic Touch.

"Shamming death, he moaned loudly."—Irish Paper.

Our Critics.

"'The Seven Deadly Sins.'   Frederick Rogers.

This is a subject that Mr. Rogers is eminently fitted to explore."—Review of Reviews.

"Tenor wanted, to join bass; must have voice."—Scotch Paper.

Some people are so exacting.

"Bride in apricot."—Daily Paper.

A new significance is added to the calculation of one's fruit stones—"This year, next year, some time, never."

THE ASHES.

[A final salutation to the M.C.C. team, from one who is destined to perish in the event of a coal strike.]