Games/Humor Books

THE SPOIL-SPORT. Mr. Phillybag was demobilised. The Day had come. For months he had dreamed of the possibility—had imagined the joy and alacrity with which he would doff his cap, tunic and trousers, service dress, one each, and resume the decent broadcloth of a successful City solicitor. Strangely enough, however, once he was actually demobilised he found himself in no hurry to lose the garb which... more...

A LOVE TRAGEDY. He was a smart new clinical thermometer. She was a pretty nurse in an influenza ward. His figurings were clear and his quicksilver glittered. Her eyes were blue and a little curl peeped from under her cap. He fell madly in love with her; and when her dainty fingers toyed with him his little heart swelled to bursting and he registered all he could. So when she took her morning... more...

THE BRIGHTER SIDE OF PEACE. I'm not out of the Army yet, but lately I was home on leave. At a time like that you don't really care about being demobilised just yet. After all, to earn—or let us say to be paid—several pounds for a fortnight's luxurious idleness is a far, far better thing than to receive about the same number of shillings for a like period of unremitting toil. There... more...

THE LITERARY ADVISER. No, he does not appear in the Gazette. War establishments know him not and his appointment throws no additional labour upon the staff of Messrs. COX AND CO. Unofficially he is known as O.C. Split Infinitives. His duties are to see that the standard of literary excellence, which makes the correspondence of the Corps a pleasure to receive, is maintained at the high level set by the... more...

FORCE OF HABIT. The fact that George had been eighteen months in Gallipoli, Egypt and France, without leave home till now, should have warned me. As it was I merely found myself gasping "Shell-shock!" We were walking in a crowded thoroughfare, and George was giving all the officers he met the cheeriest of "Good mornings." It took people in two ways. Those on leave, blushing to think... more...

LESSONS OF THE WAR. II. (The Ophir Gold Pantomime Syndicate issues its Preliminary Instructions for the Production of its Annual Pantomime.) PRELIMINARY INSTRUCTIONS. O.G.P.S. 42/B/26. November 20th, 1919. 1. General Outline. It is the intention of the Ophir Gold Pantomime Syndicate to attack and capture the Public Favour on the night of the 26/27 December, 1919. As foreshadowed in the preliminary... more...

HOW TO CURE THE BOSCH. "Yes, I seen a good bit o' the Bosch, one way and another, before he got me in the leg," said Corporal Digweed. "Eighteen months I had with 'im spiteful, and four months with 'im tame. Meaning by that four months guarding German prisoners." "And what do you think of him at the end of it?" I asked. Digweed leant back with a heavily judicial... more...

PURPLE PATCHES FROM LORD YORICK'S GREAT BOOK. (Special Review.) Lord Yorick's Reminiscences, just published by the house of Hussell, abound in genial anecdote, in which the "personal note" is lightly and gracefully struck, in welcome contrast to the stodgy political memoirs with which we have been surfeited of late. We append some extracts, culled at random from these jocund pages:—... more...

WASHOUT. We had hardly settled down to Mess when an orderly, armed with a buff slip, shot through the door, narrowly missed colliding with the soup, and pulled up by Grigson's chair. Grigson is our Flight Commander—one of those rugged and impenetrable individuals who seem impervious to any kind of shock. There is a legend that on one occasion four machine-gun bullets actually hit him and bounced... more...

THE SUGAR FIEND. "I will have a cup of tea," I said to the waitress, "China if possible; and please don't forget the sugar." "Yes, and what will you eat with I it?" she asked. "What you please," I replied; "it is all horrible." I do not take kindly to war-time teas. My idea of a tea is several cups of the best China, with three large lumps of sugar in each,... more...