"If I'd a boiled beetroot face like you, I'd never show my 'ed in a
public room again."
"What's your wrong end like, you bloomin' Dutchman?"
"You shouldn't kiss and tell." (Rapturous applause.)
"Get away. You're too mean and miserable to do anything but count your
dibs. He's so mean, gentlemen, that when he dropped a sixpence into the
plate at church instead of a fourpenny-piece, he stopped his wife's
cat's-meat allowance for a week to make up."
"If I had a voice like you I'd have it stuffed."
"If I had a nose like you I'd pay no more gas bills. You know your wife
emptied the water-jug on you that night when you were lying boozed,
because she thought it was a red-hot cinder on the floor."
And so on. The company part without any goodwill, and a night of odious
stupidity is over. Personally, I regard every hour I have spent in this
public-house as wasted. I never in my life heard a word of real fun, or
real sense, excepting from men who were merely casual visitors. The
person whose mind is satisfied by the parlour dullness of that nightly
foolery only becomes animated when he is indecent.
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