21Apr09

A man called at a village post-office for a registered letter which he knew would be awaiting him. The letter was there, but the clerk demurred at handing it over, as he had no means of identifying the caller. The caller took a photograph of himself from his pocket, remarking: "I think that ought to satisfy you as to who I am."
The clerk looked long and earnestly at the portrait, and then said: "Yes, that's you right enough. Here's your letter."



At a bankers' dinner the other evening a banker read a bad poem that he wrote, and nothing was done about it. But just let a poet write a bad check!