Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 159, December 15, 1920

Excerpt

December 15, 1920

CHARIVARIA.

Apparently the official decision not to issue Christmas excursion tickets for journeys of less than one hundred miles will inflict some inconvenience on the public. Several correspondents point out that they will be obliged to travel further than they had intended.

A newspaper correspondent describes Charlie Chaplin as being an amusing companion in private life. We always suspect a popular comedian of having his lighter moments.

"For twenty years," says a contemporary, "Superintendent Spencer of Scotland Yard has been watching the King." We hasten to add that during all that time His Majesty has never done anything to excite suspicion.

This year's Oxford and Cambridge Rugby match is said to have been the most exciting in the memory of the oldest undergraduate.

According to The Daily Express twenty-five thousand Government officials are on strike in Austria. People are asking why we can't have this sort of thing in England.

Official kissing at Presidential functions is now discontinued in France and visitors must shake hands in future. These curtailed amenities are still an improvement on the Mexican custom of exchanging revolver shots.

"Hats," says The Times' fashion correspondent, "are worn well on the head." We have always regarded this as the best place to wear a hat on.

White spats are to be fashionable this winter, we read. In muddy weather, however, the colour-scheme may be varied. Only the other day we saw one gentleman wearing a beautiful pair of Dalmatians.

So many singers want to run before they can walk, says Mr. Ben Davies. With some singers whom we have heard, the ability to dodge as well as run would be an advantage.

Loud cheers were given, says a Bolshevist wireless message, when Lenin left Petrograd for Moscow. We can well believe it.

The Bolshevists now forbid men to walk through the streets with their hands in their pockets. Hands in other peoples' pockets every time is their motto.

A palpitating writer in a Sunday paper asks if the summit of English life is being made a true Olympus or a rooting-ground for the swine of Epicurus. Judging by the present exorbitant price of a nice tender loin of pork, with crisp crackling, we should say the former.

A West Norwood man who described himself as a poet told the magistrate that he had twice been knocked down by a motor-cyclist. Our opinion is that he should have given up poetry when he was knocked down the first time.

Mr. Winston Churchill cannot be in two places at once, says The Bristol Evening News. All the same it is a dangerous thing to put him on his mettle like that.

Many people remain oblivious of the approach of Christmas until the appearance of mistletoe at Covent Garden. We don't wait for that; we go by the appearance in The Daily Mail of a letter announcing the discovery of primroses in Thanet.

Measures to arrest the subsidence of the dome of St. Paul's Cathedral have again become imperative. The cause assigned is the depressing effect of the Dean.