
“Have you ever noticed … that all hot-water bottles look like Henry the Eighth?” — Max Beerbohm

“Have you ever noticed … that all hot-water bottles look like Henry the Eighth?” — Max Beerbohm
A little boy spent his first day at school. ‘What did you learn?’ was his aunt’s question. ‘Didn’t learn nothing.’ ‘Well, what did you do?’ ‘Didn’t do nothing. There was a woman wanting to know how to spell “cat,” and I told her.’
— John Scott, The Puzzle King, 1899
The 12-year-old Winston Churchill found examinations “a great trial”: “I would have liked to have been examined in history, poetry and writing essays. … I should have liked to be asked to say what I knew. They always tried to ask what I did not know.”
As Governor of Mauritius, [Theodore] Hook ruled for five years before being accused of embezzling 12,000 pounds of public funds. He was dismissed from his post and returned to England, where he told friends that his dismissal was ‘on account of a disorder in my chest.’
— Victor Margolin, “The Pun Is Mightier Than the Sword: A Short History of Paronomasia,” Verbatim, Summer 1980
In a 1920 letter, George Bernard Shaw wrote, “The stock joke of the London stage is a fabulous stage direction ‘Sir Henry turns his back to the audience and conveys that he has a son at Harrow.'”
This is perhaps beaten by J.M. Barrie, who allegedly told a young actor in one of his plays, “I should like you to convey when you are acting it that the man you portray has a brother in Shropshire who drinks port.”
I must go back to my charming occupation of hearing students give lessons. Here is my programme for this afternoon: Avalanches — The Steam Engine — The Thames — India Rubber — Bricks — The Battle of Poictiers — Subtraction — The Reindeer — The Gunpowder Plot — The Jordan. Alluring, is it not? Twenty minutes each, and the days of one’s life are only threescore years and ten.
— Matthew Arnold, letter to Lady Louisa de Rothschild, Oct. 14, 1864

Beneath the charm-box is a small font. Each day every member of the family, in succession, enters the shrine room, bows his head before the charm-box, mingles different sorts of holy water in the font, and proceeds with a brief rite of ablution. The holy waters are secured from the Water Temple of the community, where the priests conduct elaborate ceremonies to make the liquid ritually pure.
— Horace Miner, “Body Ritual Among the Nacirema,” American Anthropologist, June 1956
(It’s satire. What’s Nacirema spelled backward?)
In his 1986 commonplace book Hodgepodge, J. Bryan lists this as one of his favorite typographical errors:
‘Carolyn B—-, who spoke on ‘Looking Ahead,’ said that the three qualities necessary for success are faith, determination and Charles McFee.
“I can’t classify it or explain it at all. I can only quote it.” I haven’t been able to find the original source.
09/17/2025 UPDATE: Reader Adam Mellion found it — it’s from the Richmond Times-Dispatch of June 12, 1954:

Not that striking when you see it in context. (Thanks, Adam.)
Entries from the Complete Uxbridge English Dictionary:
beehive: what Australian teachers tell you to do
blistering: someone you enjoy calling on the phone
cannelloni: Scots refusal to give one an overdraft
cherish: rather like a chair
colliery: sort of like a collie but even more so
emboss: to promote to the top
female: chemical name for Iron Man
flatulence: an emergency vehicle that picks you up after you have been run over by a steamroller
Icelander: to tell lies about Apple
ivy: the Roman for four
lamb shank: Sean Connery’s sheep has drowned
laundress: grass skirt
pastrami: the art of meat folding
quick: noise made by a New Zealand duck
splint: to run very fast with a broken leg
Venezuela: a gondola with a harpoon
wisteria: a nostalgic form of panic
xylophone: the Greek goddess of Scrabble
A foible is “something coughed up by a New York cat.”
The recipe for “Groper, Head and Shoulders Boiled” in Mrs. Beeton’s Everyday Cookery (1923) concludes with the warning “Great care should be taken of the immense gelatinous lips, as these are considered the best part.” In 1948 New Statesman challenged its readers to invent a recipe with a more disgusting last line. L.G. Udall obliged:
GRILLED GORILLA’S FOOT
One foot will suffice for each person.
First shave the upper part of the foot and wash in warm water. With a gimlet (for preference as the skin is very hard) bore a number of holes through the thick skin of the under part of the foot. Grease liberally with lard. Grill slowly for about twenty minutes with the under surface downwards. Then turn the foot over and continue to grill steadily. From time to time place a fork on the foot. When it is quite done it will be found that the toes will curl up firmly over the fork, so that it can be lifted up and put on a hot plate. Leave the fork in the toes and serve immediately.
The other winners are here.
[T]o the human mind there is more to blood than its mere chemical content. … For example, blood must essentially be thicker than water, impossible to get out of stones, indelible in its staining. … When apparent on heads, it should leave them unbowed; and should have the capacities to combine formidably with toil, tears and sweat and to attain boiling-point when its host faces frustration.
— Patrick Ryan, in New Scientist