Games/Humor Books

THE BALAAM STAKES . They were speeding along in the train to the Dispersal Area, and, having moved heaven and earth to achieve demobilisation, were now absolutely miserable on nearing their goal. "Like to pick your fancy for the Derby, Docker?" asked Jimmy Ferguson, proffering his daily paper with an air of acute cheerfulness. "Not fer me," said Docker Morgan dismally; "I sworn off... more...

EMBARRASSMENT AND THE LAWYER. Watson is a young barrister who is feeling rather pleased with himself. I confess that he has deserved it. The situation was as follows. Before the War he had had no briefs, but had always had a conscience. A hopeless state of affairs. Then he went to the War and shed his conscience somewhere in the Balkans. So far so good. But, when he was demobilised and began to take... more...

GOING TO THE BANK. She thought she had got a bargain. It was only marked "20/-," and would have been double the price at any of the West-end places. So she whipped out her Japanese note-case, paid for it, and carried it off like a whirlwind lest the shopman should find he had made a mistake. But it was she who had made a mistake, and she broke the news to me at breakfast on the following... more...

THE RULING PASSION. "Norman is coming to the dance," said my wife. "He would prefer to be shot," I answered. "You are coming too, and I want you to look after him." "I also would prefer to stop one." "It will do him all the good in the world. He wants bringing out." When Norman is alone with me he is natural and even interesting at times, but in company he is shy... more...

GOOD-BYE TO THE AUXILIARY PATROL. II.—THE SHIP'S COMPANY. Demobilisation in the Navy, whatever it may be in the Army, is a simple affair. You are first sent for by the Master-at-Arms, who glares, thrusts papers into your trembling hand and ejects you violently in the direction of the Demobilising Office. Here they regard you curiously, stifle a yawn, languidly inspect your papers and send you to... more...

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... more...

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... more...

THE MUD LARKS. Yesterday morning, a freckled child, dripping oil and perspiration and clad in a sort of canvas dressing-gown, stumbled into "Remounts" (or "Demounts," as we should more properly call ourselves nowadays) and presented me with a slip of paper which entitled him, the bearer, to immediate demobilisation on pivotal grounds. I handed it back to him, explaining that he had come... more...

BACK TO THE CAM. College head-porters as a class assuredly rank amongst the dignified things of the earth. One may admire the martial splendour of a Brigadier-General, and it is not to be denied that Rear-Admirals have a certain something about them which excites both awe and delight, but they are never quite the same thing as a college head-porter. There may be weak spots in the profession, and indeed... more...

THE BEETLE OF BUDA-PESTH. AN UNRECORDED EPISODE OF THE GREAT WAR. The War being now practically at an end and Austria-Hungary irrevocably broken up, I am able to recount an adventure, in which I was involved, that occurred at Buda-Pesth in the second week of August, 1914. Seated at a café on the famous Franz-Josef Quai, I was sipping coffee, after an excellent lunch, with Frederick, whose surname I... more...