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The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 12, Issue 8 (November 1, 1937)

Wit and Humour

page 61

Wit and Humour

Some Speed.

A man was driving a big car at fast speed along a wide road when a very small car appeared alongside, as if trying to pass him. The driver of the big car wouldn't let a small car pass him, not even a new one. He went faster still — sixty — sixty-five miles an hour—but still the small car kept beside him. Suddenly the driver of the small car opened his window and shouted. “Do you know anything about these cars?”

“Why?” asked the other driver, “I can't shift the thing into top gear,” was the reply.

* * *

The Jew's Creditors.

A foreign Jew who had gone bankrupt, was attending before the official receiver for his first examination. Only six creditors were present.

“Now, Mr. Isaacs,” said the official receiver, “what have you to say about your position?”

The Jew looked round the room, and noticing the small number of creditors present, said: “Vell, gentlemen, in the circumstances, I intend to make all of my creditors who are present this morning preferential creditors.”

“What do you mean by that?” said the receiver.

“Vell,” answered the Jew, “they vill know this morning that they will get nothings, and the others will not know till the next meeting.”

* * *

This Wonderful Age.

The fond wife of the costing clerk watched him gazing down at their first-born in his new cot. An expression of wonder, admiration, and incredulity passed across his face. “Tell me your thoughts, darling,” said his wife. “Well, Mary,” he replied, “I'm blowed if I can see how anyone can make a cot like that for fifteen bob.”

* * *

Universal Kindness.

“Be kind to insects,” says a writer. We never lose an opportunity of patting mosquitoes on the back.


Two men at a picture theatre were sitting just in front of two women, whose continuous chatter they stood as long as they could. One of them turned round and said: “Pardon me, madam, but my friend and I can't hear.”

Whereupon came the unexpected reply:

“You're not supposed to. This is a private conversation.”


It is better to have a morning-after than never to have had a night-before.

(By courtesy of the “Bulletin.”) “Perhaps, madam, you'd find it easier if yon allowed me to put one of those on your shoulder.”

(By courtesy of the “Bulletin.”)
“Perhaps, madam, you'd find it easier if yon allowed me to put one of those on your shoulder.”

Follow the Band.

“Have you brought many people to your way of thinking?”

“No,” answered the great Sorghum. “Public opinion is something like a mule I owned when I was a boy. In order to keep up the appearance of being driver I had to watch the way he was going and follow on behind.”

* * *


“He's the image of his mother,” said the proud father, exhibiting his first-born.

“Yes,” agreed the visitor, absent-mindedly. “Nothing could be plainer.”

Official Protection.

A little boy came running round the corner of the street and pulled up beside a policeman. “What's all this abotst?” asked the constable gruffly.

“I say,” said the boy, “if you saw a little boy getting hurt, would you interfere?”

The policeman looked very important. “Of course, my lad,” he said quickly.

“Well, will you come along with me, please?” said the boy. “Dad is waiting for me at the front door with a stick.”

Not in the Inner Circle.

The very voluble Missus, in support of her application to the Magistrate that her husband should be “bound over,” was explaining her woes at express speed.

“According to you,” interrupted the S.M., “he struck you over the head with the lawn-mower. What did he do that for?”

“Well, y'r Worship, he is a very unsociable man.”

“It would seem so,” said the S.M. drily.

“Too right, y'r Worship. He's a snob.”

* * *

A Stranger Identified.

“Who is that fellow with the long hair?”

“He's a fellow from Yale.”

“Oh, I've often heard of those Yale locks.”


It was a dramatic moment in the play when, with fiery denunciation, the hard-hearted father was about to thrust his erring daughter out of the house for ever.

“What can I do? Where can I go?” sobbed the girl.

There was a tense silence. Then, amid the sobs, rose the shrill voice of a woman in the gallery:—.

“Come home with me. lass!”