I knew that that was my cue to walk out, kick the motorman in the
knuckles, upset the car and send in a fire call, but I passed it up.

I just sat there and bit my nails like the heavy villain in one of Corse
Payton's ten, twen, thir dramas.

That "loveliest eyes" speech had me groggy.

Whenever I hear a woman turn on that "loveliest eyes" gag about an actor
I always feel that a swift slap from a wet dish-rag would look well on
her back hair.

Then the bunch across the aisle got the flag.

"Well, you know," says the broad lady who paid for one seat and was
compelled by Nature to use three, "you know there's only five in our
family, and so I take just five slices of stale bread and have a bowl of
water ready in which I've dropped a pinch of salt. Then I take a piece
of butter about the size of a walnut, and thoroughly grease the bottom
of a frying-pan; then beat five eggs to a froth, and--"

I'm hoping the conductor will come in and give us all a tip to take to
the timber because the cops are going to pinch the room, but there's
nothing doing.

One of the dames on my right finds her voice and passes it around:--

"Oh, I think it's a perfect fright! I always did detest electric blue,
anyway. It is so unbecoming, and then--"