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قراءة كتاب Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 156, March 26, 1919

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Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 156, March 26, 1919

Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 156, March 26, 1919

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دار النشر: Project Gutenberg
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PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

Vol. 156.


March 26, 1919.


CHARIVARIA

.

WILLIAM HOHENZOLLERN is reported to be busy sawing trees. Some declare that his energy is due to an hallucination that they are German generals. Others say the whole story is a clumsy attempt to discredit him with the Labour party.


Dublin Corporation has decided to increase its revenue by eight thousand pounds by raising the charge on water. Citizens are urged to put patriotism before prejudice and give the stuff a trial.


The inconveniences that attend influenza reached their climax a few days ago when an occupant of a crowded tube train blew the nose of the man next to him in mistake for his own.


The beggar who has been going about telling a pitiful story of being wounded by a trench-mortar during the Jutland battle is now regarded by the police as an impostor.


A defendant in a County Court case at Liverpool last week stated in his evidence that he had been on the telephone for the last twenty years. In fairness to the Postal authorities he should have admitted that it was a trunk call.


Foreman (late R.S.M.). "'ERE! YOU AIN'T IN THE ARMY NOW. THERE'S NO CALL FOR YOU TO KEEP A WATCH ON THE RHINE."


A lady-correspondent, writing to a daily paper, laments the fact that the War has changed a great many husbands. Surely the wife who receives the wrong husband can get some sort of redress from the War Office.


All the main-line railways are to be electrified, Sir ERIC GEDDES told the House of Commons. Meanwhile he has successfully electrified all the old buffers.


A number of women are doing good work as mates on Medway sailing barges. The denial of the report that one of them recently looked at a Wapping policeman for five minutes on end without once repeating herself may be ascribed to professional jealousy.


"The small car," says a trade contemporary, "has come to stop." We can well believe it. It is an old habit.


It has been discovered that the new Education Act, which prohibits boys under twelve being worked for more than two hours on Sunday, may apply to choir-boys. A Commission, we understand, is to be called upon to decide finally whether they are really boys or just little demons.


A man who applied to the Bloomsbury County Court for relief against an eviction order stated that he could find no other suitable house, as he had nine children under fourteen years of age. His residential problem remains unsolved, but we understand, with regard to the other difficulty, that the Board of Works has offered to sell him a card index at considerably below cost.


"Bridegrooms," says a contemporary, "are discovering that weddings cost more." The growing practice among fathers-in-law of delivering their daughters "free at rail," instead of, as formerly, "from house to house," may have something to do with it.


"Ramsgate," says The Daily Mail, "is racing Margate in Thanet's reconstruction." At present Margate still claims to lead by one nigger and two winkle-barrows.


The Colorado Legislature has passed a resolution in favour of Irish independence. The remark attributed to Mr. A.J. BALFOUR, that he always thought Colorado was the name of a twopenny cigar, has failed to make the situation easier.


"A pupil at a West London 'out-of-work' school," says a news item, "daily attends his studies in an opera-hat." On being informed of this fact, Sir THOMAS BEECHAM is reported to have expressed the opinion that its significance was obvious.


President WILSON, it is announced, hopes to visit Scotland shortly for some golf. He believes that some adjustment of the dispute as to the respective merits of the running-up and pitch-and-stop methods of approach should be embodied in the Peace terms if international harmony is to be really secured.


Primroses and crocuses are blooming in North London. Pending an official announcement by The Daily Mail people are requested to accept this as a preliminary Spring.


Concrete ships, says a Government official, can be made in moulds. But of course you must not forget to grease the tin.


A Sinn Feiner, arriving home in Crossgar, Co. Down, last week, had a very hearty welcome. Thirteen spectators and seven policemen were injured.


Many members of the Bar are greatly afraid that some learned judge will ask, "What is the Jazz-step?" before the question has really been settled by the dancers themselves.


The young lady who, on receiving a proposal of marriage over the telephone last week, replied, "Yes, who's speaking?" turns out to be an ex-typist recently demobilised from the Air Ministry.


It is interesting to note that to-day is the anniversary of the day that was not a Flag-day last year.


Another Sex-Problem.

"Information Wanted as to the whereabouts of James —— (née Liza ——), ship agent. Last heard of 30 years ago."—Glasgow Paper.


THE PRELIMINARY DOVE: ITS PROSPECTS.

Within a little week or two,

So all our sanguine prints declare,

The Dove (or Bird of Peace) is due

To spread its wings and take the air,

Like Mr. THOMAS when he flew

Across the firmamental blue

To join the PREMIER in communion

Touching the Railway Workers' Union.

We've waited many a weary week

With bulging eyes and fevered brow,

While WILSON pressed upon its beak

His League-of-Nations' olive bough,

Wondering what amount of weight

Its efforts could negotiate,

How much, in fact, the bird would stand

Without collapsing on the land.

And, even though it should contrive

To keep its pinions on the flap,

And by a tour de force survive

This devastating handicap,

Yet are there perils in the skies

Whereon we blandly shut our eyes,

But which are bound to be incurred,

And, notably, the Bolshy-bird.

This brand of vulture, most obscene,

May have designs upon the Dove;

Its carrion taste was never keen

On the Millennial reign of Love;

And I, for one, am stiff with fear

About our little friend's career,

Lest that disgusting fowl should maul

And eat it, olive-branch and all.

I mention this to mark the quaint

Notion of "Peace" the public has,

That wants to smear the Town with paint,

To whoop and jubilate and jazz;

And while our flappers beat the floor

There's Russia soaked in seas of gore,

And LENIN waxing beastly fat;

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