A Dutch Treat

Your new quizmaster, born in the Low Countries, thought it a good idea to give you all a real Dutch treat this week ... and you don’t even have to cough up! So screw up your courage, be it Dutch or not, and have a stab at the following. Bonus marks for book and chapter or short story title.

1. "Oh, tut, tut, tut!" I said. "Oh, dear, dear, dear! Oh, no, no, no, no, no! I don’t think much of this," I said, curling and clicking freely. "All wrong."

"All wrong?"

"All wrong. Modern Dutch."

"Modern Dutch?" He may have frothed at the mouth, or he may not. I couldn’t be sure. But the agony of spirit was obviously intense. "What do you mean, Modern Dutch? It’s eighteenth-century English. Look at the hall-mark!"

"I can’t see any hall-mark."

"Are you blind? Here, take it outside in the street. It’s lighter there."

"Right ho," I said, and started for the door, sauntering at first in a languid sort of way, like a connoisseur a bit bored at having his time wasted.

Who is the narrator, and why is he so scornful of something about which - let’s be absolutely frank - he doesn’t know the first thing?

2. Through the curtained windows of the furnished apartment which A___ had rented for her stay in New York rays of golden sunlight peeped in like the foremost spies of some advancing army. It was a fine summer morning. The hands of the Dutch clock in the hall pointed to thirteen minutes past nine; those of the ormolu clock in the sitting-room to eleven minutes past ten; those of the carriage clock on the bookshelf to fourteen minutes to six. In other words, it was exactly eight; and A___ acknowledged the fact by moving her head on the pillow, opening her eyes, and sitting up in bed. She always woke at eight precisely.

Who is the owner of these clocks, all of which are talking double Dutch at moment of going to press?

3. "Something’s got to be done."

"Absolutely!" B___ nodded solemnly. He had taken this matter greatly to heart. C___ was his best friend, and he had always been extremely fond of D___. It hurt him to see things going wrong. "I’ll tell you what, old bean. Let me handle this binge for you. [...] I’m the lad to do it. I’ve known D___ for years. She’ll listen to me. I’ll talk to her like a Dutch uncle and make her understand the general scheme of things. I’ll take her out to tea to-morrow and slang her in no uncertain voice! Leave the whole thing to me, laddie!"

C___ considered.

"It might do some good," he said.

"Good?" said B___. "It’s it, dear boy! It’s a wheeze! You toddle off to bed and have a good sleep. I’ll fix the whole thing for you!"

Who is going to be talked to by a metaphorical Dutch uncle?

4. "It isn’t a place where you meet someone else. There’s the vicar’s daughter, who is engaged to the curate, and the doctor’s daughter, betrothed to a chap who’s planting coffee in Kenya, and that, except for E___ and F___’s old nurse, G___, exhausts the female population. It’s not possible for his heart to have strayed."

"Well, something must have happened."

"Unquestionably."

"You’d better talk to him."

"I intend to, like a Dutch godfather. We can’t have this playing fast and loose with a young girl’s affections. Letting the side down, is the way I look at it."

A subtle variation on the same theme, if you follow my drift. Please identify the honorary Dutchman and explain why he is viewing his godson’s doings with concern.

Round 162 - 29 August 2003

The Emperor of the French

He is one of the most frequently mentioned historical figures in the canon: Napoleon, Emperor of the French. Inferior though he may be to his imperial counterpart, Empress of Blandings, in matters of majestic bearing and heroic feats, the life of the Corsican half-portion was by no means a complete wash-out. Whenever the necessity arises of climbing up water pipes or diving under tables, many Wodehouse characters model themselves on the great man’s tactics. But not everyone is equally impressed by his achievements. Like the Empress, the Emperor had his share of tribulations ...

1. A___ winced. He presumed the man meant well, but there are certain subjects one does not want mentioned. When you have contrived with infinite pains to wheedle a portion of your capital out of a reluctant trustee and have gone and started a night-club with it and seen that night-club flash into the receiver’s hands like some frail egg-shell engulfed by a whirlpool, silence is best.

"Ah," he said briefly, to indicate this.

B___ had many admirable qualities, but not tact. He was the sort of man who would have tried to cheer Napoleon up by talking about the Winter Sports at Moscow.

Who is the cordial but goofy babbler, capable of such a tactless remark during the Emperor’s French leave?

2. C___ and I exchanged glances. There were tears in her eyes.

"Oh, D___! Remember Napoleon!"

"Napoleon! What’s Napoleon got to do with it? Napoleon never was expected to drive through a primeval forest. Besides, what did Napoleon ever do? Where did Napoleon get off, swanking round as if he amounted to something? Poor fish! All he ever did was to get hammered at Waterloo!"

Bitter, of course, very bitter. Who is the short-tempered speaker and why does C___ bring up Napoleon?

3. The first thing you need in matters of this kind, as every general knows, is a thorough knowledge of the terrain. Not know the terrain, and where are you? Look at Napoleon and that sunken road at Waterloo. Silly ass!

I had a thorough knowledge of the terrain of E___’s office, and it ran as follows. I won’t draw a plan, because my experience is that, when you’re reading one of those detective stories and come to the bit where the author draws a plan of the Manor, showing room where body was found, stairs leading to passageway, and all the rest of it, one just skips. I’ll simply explain in a few brief words.

Who is this would-be general and at what kind of Waterloo is he about to make an even sillier ass of himself?

4. History, dealing with the affair, will raise its eyebrows at the conductor of the omnibus. He was patently inadequate. He pulled a chord, stopped the vehicle, and, advancing into the interior, said: "Ere!" Napoleon might just as well have said "Ere!" at the battle of Waterloo. Forces far beyond the control of mere words had been unchained. F___ was kicking the glassy-eyed passenger’s shin. The glassy-eyed man was protesting that he was a gentleman. Three women were endeavouring to get through an exit planned by the omnibus’s architect to accomodate but one traveller alone.

Name the two leading brains responsible for this battlefield on wheels, and their secret weapon.

Round 163 - 8 September 2003

Sir

Has your top hat been knocked off by an unidentified flying object? Or are you merely worried that the whole fabric of society is falling into pieces? Or are you just looking for a new hobby? Our advice to every young man starting life is to sit down and write a good, strong letter to The Times.

In each of the following fragments, please identify the letter writer. As usual, bonus points for references and whatnot.

1. "Is there anything I can do for you, A___?"

"Yes, I want a stamp. I’m writing to The Times about the disgraceful mess the Government has got the country into. Lot of incompetent poops, if you ask me. Do them good if somebody came along and shot them all. Who’s Jane?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"This letter is signed Jane. I was wondering who she was."

"I wish you would not read my letters."

"No pleasure to me to read them. They’re always damned dull."

2. And the worst was yet to come. About a minute later he was informed that B___ had called to see him. He went to the small smoking room and found his uncle standing on the hearth-rug. He was staring in a puzzled sort of way at a battered top hat which he held in his hand.

"Most extraordinary thing," he said. "As I was getting out of my cab just now, something suddenly came whizzing out of the void and knocked my hat off. I think it must have been a small meteor. I am going to write to The Times about it."

3. It was only when the cab had stopped outside the front garden of the neat little red-brick house and he had alighted and told the driver to wait ("Wait?" said the driver. "How do you mean, wait? Oh, you mean wait?") that doubts began to disturb him. Even as he raised his finger to press the door-bell, there crept over him a chilly feeling of mistrust, and he drew the finger back as sharply as if he had found it on the point of prodding a Dowager Duchess in the ribs.

Could he meet C___ in morning clothes and yellow shoes? Reluctantly he told himself that he could not. He remembered how often she had taken down at his dictation letters to The Times deploring modern laxity on matters of dress: and his brain reeled at the thought of how she would look if she saw him now. Those raised brows... those scornful lips... those clear, calm eyes registering disgust through their windshields...

No, he could not face C___.

4. "To the Editor / The Times

"Sir,

"In connexion with the recent correspondence in your columns on the Strain of Modern Life, I wonder if any of your readers are aware that there exists in the county of Worcestershire an establishment expressly designed to correct this strain. (...) it is possible for those who have allowed the demands of modern life to tax their physique too greatly to recuperate in ideal surroundings and by means of early hours, wholesome exercise, and Spartan fare to build up once more their debilitated tissues."

Round 164 - 18 September 2003

A Gloomy Sort of Bird

Superficial readers often labour under the illusion that the Master’s oeuvre is about nothing but "ho, ho" and "ha, ha". They have the impression that the denizens of the wonderful world of Wodehouse live for pleasure alone. Perish the thought! Life is stern and – as the fellow said – life is earnest. When pain and anguish rack the brow, with no ministering angel in the offing, you will generally find your hero curled up with the complete works of that rather depressing chappie, Mr Arthur Schopenhauer. In each of the following extracts, we would like you to identify the (temporary) disciple of this outstanding party pooper.

1. "(...) I went into his stateroom just now, as arranged, and the man was lying on his bunk, groaning."

"I thought you said the sea was like a millpond."

"It wasn’t that! He’s perfectly fit. But it seems that the silly ass took it into his head to propose to A___ just before dinner – apparently he’s loved her for years in a silent, self-effacing way – and of course she told him that she was engaged to me, and the thing upset him to such an extent that he says the idea of sitting down at a piano and helping me give an imitation of Frank Tinney revolts him. He says he intends to spend the evening in bed, reading Schopenhauer. I hope it chokes him."

2. "The whole trouble with women, B___," he said, and the philosopher Schopenhauer would have slapped him on the back and told him he knew just how he felt, "is that practically all of them are dotty. Look at C___. Wacky to the eyebrows. Roosting in a ruined chapel in the hope of seeing Lady Agatha."

3. Too little attention has been given by our greatest minds to the subject of Old Man River-singing, though such a subject is of absorbing interest. It has never, as far as one knows, been pointed out that this song is virtually impossible of proper rendition by a vocalist who is feeling boomps-a-daisy and on top of the world. The full flavour can be obtained and the last drop of juice squeezed out only by the man who is down among the wines and spirits and brooding gloomily on life in general. Hamlet would have sung it superbly. So would Schopenhauer and JB Priestley. And so, at eight o’clock that night, up on the platform at the village hall with the Union Jack behind him and D___, the music teacher, playing the accompaniment at his side, did E___.

4. "Ever read Schopenhauer?" she asked, after a silence.

"No."

"You should. Great stuff. (...) Schopenhauer says that all the suffering in the world can’t be mere chance. Must be meant. He says life’s a mixture of suffering and boredom. You’ve got to have one or the other. His stuff’s full of snappy cracks like that. You’d enjoy it. Well, I’m going for a walk. You coming?"

"I don’t think I will, thanks."

"Just as you like. Schopenhauer says suicide’s absolutely OK. He says Hindoos do it instead of going to church. They bung themselves into the Ganges and get eaten by crocodiles and call it a well-spent day."

"What a lot you seem to know about Schopenhauer."

"I’ve been reading him up lately. Found a copy in the library. Schopenhauer says we are like lambs in a field, disporting themselves under the eye of the butcher, who chooses first one and then another for his prey."

Round 165 - 26 September 2003

Hunters

Wodehouse's books contain numerous big-game hunters who fearlessly stalk their prey – antelopes, zebus, gnus, rhinoceri, and the Efficient Baxter. Identify the following hunters. (Apologies to those omitted for lack of space, including Sir Alexander Bassinger, Hammond Chester, Algy Fripp, and Rollo Phipps.)

1. "But I still maintain that you have made the pardonable mistake of failing to read the licence number correctly."

Before speaking again, A__ was obliged to swallow once or twice, to restore his composure. He also took another nut.

"Look," he said, almost mildly. "Perhaps you're not up on these things. You haven't been told who's who and what's what. I am A__ the White Hunter, the most famous White Hunter in all Africa and Indonesia. I can stand without a tremor in the path of an onrushing rhino ... and why? Because my eyesight is so superb that I know ... I know I can get him in that one vulnerable spot before he has come within sixty paces. That's the sort of eyesight mine is."

B__ maintained his iron front.

"I fear I cannot recede from my position, sir ... I do not believe that rhinoceri are equipped with licence numbers."

Name the White Hunter.

2. C__ was looking grave, like one who has discovered a hitherto-unsuspected blemish in an estimable character.

"I didn't know your father wrote books."

"Just this one. About his big-game hunting binges in the old days."

"Oh, not a novel?" said C, relieved.

Name the hunter-turned-writer.

3. The love feast became intensified as the time went on. The Colonel was plainly delighted that D__ had derived such pleasure from his little book and spoke fluently and well on the subject of tigers he had met and what to do when confronted with a charging rhinoceros, together with many an anecdote about the selected portions of gnus, giraffes and the like which ornamented the walls.

Name this hunter-writer, whose library is "tastefully decorated with the heads of various fauna who had had the misfortune to meet him."

4. "E__, dear," said F__, "pick up that dog and fondle it. And," she added, for she was a quick-thinking girl, "when doing so, hold its head over the hole."

It was a behest which one might have supposed that any knight, eager to win his lady's favour, would have leaped to fulfil. But E__ did not leap. There was a dubious look on his handsome face, and he scratched his chin pensively.

"Just a moment," he said. "This is a thing you want to look at from every angle. Pekes are awfully nippy, you know. They make sudden darts at your ankles."

"Well, you like a spice of danger."

"Within reason, dear lady, within reason."

"You once killed a lion with a sardine opener."

"Ah, but I first quelled him with the power of the human eye. The trouble with Pekes is, they're so shortsighted, they can't see the human eye, so you can't quell them with it."

"You could if you put your face right down close."

"If," said E__ thoughtfully.

Name the prudent explorer-hunter (who claims to have notches on his elephant gun).

Extra credit: ... There was a silence. It was broken by G__, the big-game hunter and explorer, a taciturn man who until now had not spoken.

"I don't know if I have ever told you fellows about the close shave I had some years ago when I was in East Africa trying to steal the ruby which was the eye of the idol of the 'Mgumbi tribe'."

Name the big-game hunter and the (rather obscure) source of the quotation.

NOTE: No animals were harmed in the making of this quiz.

Round 166 - 7 October 2003

Huntresses

Last week we encountered several male big-game hunters. In the interest of equal opportunity, this week features the female of the species: three experienced huntresses, and one promising neophyte.

1. "Well, to begin with, I have been sent here by Mrs A__."

"I know that name."

"I thought you might."

"Of course. I saw a photograph of her in some paper the other day, looking sideways at a dead lion."

"'Mrs. A__ and Friend.'"

Do you know that name? Who is A?

2. B__ laughed the wholesome, indulgent laugh of one who is broad-minded enough to see the humour of the situation even when the joke is at her expense.

"What a silly girl I am!" she said. "I do believe it was C__ I shot at upstairs. How foolish of me making a mistake like that!"

"You shot my only son!" cried D__.

"I shot at him," said B__. "My belief is that I missed him. Though how I came to do it beats me. I don't suppose I've missed a sitter like that since I was a child in the nursery. Of course," she proceeded, looking on the reasonable side, "the visibility wasn't good, but it's no use saying I oughtn't at least to have winged him, because I ought." She shook her head with a touch of self-reproach. "I shall get chaffed about this if it comes out," she said.

Who is B, who once killed a panther (or puma) with a hat-pin but is less succesful here with her elephant-gun?

3. "I have other views for E__," said F__ stiffly. "When my daughter gets married it will not be to a spineless, invertebrate product of our modern hot-house civilisation, but to a strong, upstanding, keen-eyed, two-fisted he-man of the open spaces. I have no wish to hurt your feelings, Mr. G_," she continued, more kindly, "but you must admit that you are, when all is said and done, a pipsqueak."

"I deny it," cried G__ warmly. "I don't even know what a pipsqueak is."

"A pipsqueak is a man who has never seen the sun rise beyond the reaches of the Lower Zambezi; who would not know what to do if faced by a charging rhinoceros. What would you do if faced by a charging rhinoceros, Mr. G__?"

"I am not likely," said G__, "to move in the same social circles as charging rhinoceri."

Identify F, whose daughter describes her as "a well-known big-game hunter and explorer. She tramps through jungles and things."

4. His mind flitted lightly from one soothing subject to another. He thought of elks he had shot in Canada, of moufflon he had shot in the Grecian Archipelago, of giraffes he had shot in Nigeria. He was just on the point of thinking of a hippopotamus which he had shot in Egypt, when the train of his meditations was interrupted by a soft popping sound not far away ...

The words were swept from his lips by the sight of a woman's face, peering from the branches of a nearby tree ...

"My dear young lady ..." he stammered.

He had got thus far when he perceived that the young woman was aiming at him something that looked remarkably like an air-gun. Her tongue protruding thoughtfully from the corner of her mouth, she had closed one eye and with the other was squinting tensely along the barrel.

Name the promising rookie marksperson and her target.

Round 167 - 16 October 2003

Lions and Tigers (and Bears)

Having spent two weeks with hunters, we now turn to some of their companions. This week's quiz is dedicated to Ming, the 400-pound tiger recently discovered in a New York City apartment.

1. "You think you will like Kenya?"

"My pal Boddington speaks highly of it. The spaces are very great and open there, he tells me."

"There is money, no doubt, in coffee-growing."

"Pots, I imagine. I know for a fact that Boddington smokes seven-and-sixpenny cigars."

"Yes, on the whole I think you are doing wisely. Not that I would care to go to Kenya myself."

"I know what you mean. Always the risk, of course, of getting eaten by a lion, which would be a nuisance, but one must expect a bit of give and take."

Name the man who is an aspiring Coffee King (and potential lion meal).

2. "Ladies and gentlemen," said the ambassador for the third time. He scanned the house apprehensively. "Deeply regret have unfortunate disappointment to announce. A__ unfortunately unable to appear before you tonight."

A howl like the howl of wolves balked of their prey or an amphitheatre full of Roman citizens on receipt of the news that the supply of lions had run out greeted these words.

Who is A__, and why is he unfortunately unable to appear?

3. For a man with anything on his mind, any little trouble calculated to affect the joie de vivre, there are few spots less cheering than the Customs sheds of New York. Draughts whistle dismally there – now to, now fro. Strange noises are heard. Customs officials chew gum and lurk grimly in the shadows, like tigers awaiting the luncheon-gong.

Who is the man in question, and what is weighing on his mind (such as it is)?

4. "What's all this about?" inquired B__.

His eyes fell upon George; and he uttered that low, sinister growl which is heard only from the throats of leopards seeking their prey, tigers about to give battle, and New York policemen who come unexpectedly upon men who have thrown table-cloths over them and hit them in the eye.

Name the tiger-imitator.

Extra credit: Identify the two speakers in the following passage and the book from which this passage comes.

I gave the man one of my looks.

"Touch of indigestion, C__?"

"No, sir."

"Then why is your tummy rumbling?"

"Pardon me, sir, the noise to which you allude does not emanate from my interior but from that of the animal that has just joined us."

"Animal? What animal?"

"A bear, sir. If you will turn your head, you will observe that a bear is standing in your immediate rear inspecting you in a somewhat menacing manner."

I pivoted the loaf. The honest fellow was perfectly correct. It was a bear. And not a small bear, either. One of the large economy size. Its eye was bleak, it gnashed a tooth or two, and I could see at a g. that it was going to be difficult for me to find a formula.

Round 168 - 24 October 2003

Hallowe'en Party

To celebrate Hallowe'en, we shall a quiz unfold whose lightest word may make thy knotted and combinèd locks to part, and each particular hair to stand on end like quills upon the fretful porpentine. Or, of course, possibly not. To get in the proper frame of mind, think of Webster, the black cat, and Percy, the Blandings Castle pumpkin.

1. Externally, A__ Hall was one of those gloomy, sombre country-houses which seem to exist only for the purpose of having horrid crimes committed in them. Even in his brief visit to the grounds, B__ had noticed fully half a dozen places that seemed incomplete without a cross indicating spot where body was found by the police. It was the sort of house where ravens croak in the front garden just before the death of the heir, and shrieks ring out from behind barred windows in the night.

Nor was its interior more cheerful. And, as for the personnel of the domestic staff, that was less exhilarating than anything else about the place. It consisted of an aged cook who, as she bent over her cauldrons, looked like something out of a travelling company of "Macbeth," touring the smaller towns of the North, and C__, the butler, a huge, sinister man with a cast in one eye and an evil light in the other.

Who owns this ghastly home of England?

2. "Do you believe in ghosts?" asked D__ abruptly.

I weighed the question thoughtfully. I was a little surprised, for nothing in our previous conversation had suggested the topic. "Well," I replied, "I don't like them, if that's what you mean. I was once butted by one as a child."

"Ghosts. Not goats."

"Oh, ghosts? Do I believe in ghosts?"

"Exactly."

"Well, yes--and no."

"Let me put it another way," said D__, patiently. "Do you believe in haunted houses? Do you believe that it is possible for a malign influence to envelop and work a spell on all who come within its radius?"

I hesitated. "Well, no – and yes."

Name this haunted house.

3. "Well, now that the happy ending has been achieved, how about returning to the bar? I'll buy you a lemon squash."

"Do you really like that stuff?"

"I love it."

It was on the tip of E__'s tongue to say that one would have thought he was a man who would be more likely to share Count Dracula's preference for human blood when thirsty, but he refrained from putting the thought into words. It might, he felt, be lacking in tact, and after all, why criticize a man for looking like something out of a horror film if his heart was so patently of the purest gold.

Name the man who looks like the Count.

4. "He's thinking of his face."

"Oh?" said F__. "Oh, ah, yes, of course. Yes, to be sure." He coughed. "I wouldn't worry about your face, G__," he said. "I can assure you that from certain angles--in certain lights--what I mean is, there's a sort of rugged honesty ..."

"What does a fellow's face matter, anyway?" said H__.

"Exactly."

"Looks don't mean a thing. Didn't Frankenstein get married?"

"Did he?" said F__. "I don't know. I never met him. Harrow man, I expect."

Name the man with the face that recalls Frankenstein's monster's Harrowing visage.

Extra Credit: What is Wodehouse's connection with the title of this round ("Hallowe'en Party")? (The answer is not in any of Wodehouse's books.)

Round 169 - 4 November 2003

"Please keep your seats ..."

If you are inclined to venture into places of entertainment in the late evenings, you would be well advised to avoid those frequented by Wodehouse characters. Even if you don't get caught up in a fire or an attempt to massacre waiters, there is always a strong chance that the boys in blue will turn up ...

1. "...You want to marry me yourself, don't you?" I had to take another mouthful of the substance in the bottle before I could speak. One of those difficult questions to answer.

"Oh, rather," I said, for I was anxious to make the evening a success. "Of course. Who wouldn't?"

"And yet you ---"

She did not proceed further than the word "you", for at this juncture, with the abruptness with which these things always happen, the joint was pinched. The band stopped in the middle of a bar. A sudden hush fell upon the room. Square-jawed men shot up through the flooring, and one, who seemed to be skippering the team, stood out in the middle and with a voice like a foghorn told everybody to keep their seats.

Who are the couple interrupted at this critical moment (real names or, for a bonus point, aliases)? And what happens next?

2. "... Take it away," he said, quivering. "I don't want it in a coffee-pot."

"We always sairve the whisky in a coffee-pot, Mr A___. You know that."

Across the table A___ was appalled by a sinister sight. The man opposite him was rising. Yards and yards of him were beginning to uncoil, and on his face there was a strange look of determination and menace.

"You're ..."

A___ knew what the next word would have been. It would have been the verb "pinched". But it was never uttered. With a sudden frenzy, A___ acted. He was not normally a man of violence, but there are occasions when violence and nothing but violence will meet the case. There flashed through his mind a vision of what would be, did he not act with promptitude and dispatch. He would be arrested, hauled to jail, immured in a dungeon-cell.

Identify the two parties in this unfortunate situation (names and aliases of both, please!), and for a bonus, see if you can remember which town the waiter comes from.

3. "... I am confident that B___ will have slipped the local Gestapo their cut and that we are in no danger of being the victims of zeal; nevertheless I lost no time after we were at our table in locating the door through which the waiters were coming and going with the food which incidentally was excellent. [...] It's the door behind you, C___, a mere step from where we sit, so I think I may say that even if the worst should happen..."

But what he thought he might say even if the worst should happen was lost to posterity, for at this moment the popping of corks and the musicla activities of Herman Zilch and his What-Nots was overtopped by a stentorian voice speaking with something of the timbre of a drill-sergeant of the Scots Guards addressing recruits.

"Everybody keep their seats, please," it said.

"Everybody kindly keep his or her seat, please," would have been more in accordance with the principles laid down by Mr Fowler in his book on English usage, but the speaker got his meaning over, which is the main thing. With the exception of D___, C___ and E___, the patrons of F___ froze as one patron.

Can you name the restaurant, F___, and identify the diners D___, C___ and E___?

4. "Oh, hullo," he said [...]. He had no difficulty in recognizing her. Her name was G___, and they had met during a police raid on the gambling club they were attending in the days before modern enlightened thought had made these resorts legal, and had subsequently spent an agreeable half-hour together in a water barrel in somebody's garden. He had not forgotten the incident, and it was plain that it remained green in G___'s memory also, for she said:

"Well, lord love a duck, if it isn't my old room mate H___! Fancy meeting you again. How's tricks? Been in any interesting water barrels lately?"

Who are the mixed bathers in this excerpt?

5. What had arrested J___'s attention was the fact that at this juncture there was an abrupt increase in the volume of the noise, together with a feminine scream or two, followed by a significant silence.

Well, it did not take a man of my experience long to gather what had occurred. I have participated in raids in my time as a patron, as a waiter, as a washer of glasses, and once, in America, actually as a member of the squad conducting the operations, and I know the procedure. What happens is that there is first a universal yell of consternation and the girls all scream, and then all is hushed and everyone stands peering bleakly into the future, trying to think of names and addresses which will sound reasonably plausible to the gentleman with the note-book.

Who is the gentleman with the note-book on this occasion, and what establishment is he raiding?

Round 170 - 14 November 2003

Not an 'appy one ...

This week, taking one consideration with another, we shall continue our law-and-order theme with a look at some of the hazards of everyday life on the beat.

1. It was here that the regrettable incident occurred. Just as the second prisoner was being launched, Constable A___, determined to assert himself even at the eleventh hour, sprang forward, and seized the captive by the arm. A drowning man will clutch at a straw. A man about to be hurled into an excessively dirty pond will clutch at a stout policeman. The prisoner did.

Constable A___ represented his one link with dry land. As he came within reach he attached himself to his tunic with the vigour and concentration of a limpet.

At the same moment the executioners gave their man the final heave. The policeman realised his peril too late. A medley of noises made the peaceful night hideous. A howl from the townee, a yell from the policeman, a cheer from the launching party, a frightened squawk from some birds in a neighbouring tree, and a splash compared with which the first had been as nothing, and all was over.

Can you name the officer so unfortunately mixed up in this fracas?

2. "It's with ref. to this aggravated assault, sir."

"What aggravated assault?"

"The one I'm telling you about, sir. I was assaulted by the duck pond."

The suspicion that the speaker had been drinking grew in B___'s mind. Even C___ at the height of one of his midnight orgies might have hesitated, he felt, to make a statement like that.

"By the duck pond?" he echoed, his eyes widening.

"Yes sir."

"How the devil can you have been assaulted by a duck pond?"

Constable C___ saw where the misunderstanding had arisen. The English language is full of these pitfalls. "When I said 'by the duck pond,' I didn't mean 'by the duck pond,' I meant 'by the duck pond.' ..."

Name the officer making this unfounded accusation against an innocent piece of water. Who did assault him?

3. "I found it, sir."

"Found it? Just lying around, you mean?"

"Yes, sir. On the bank of the river."

[...] A sudden horrible suspicion shot through me like a dose of salts, numbing the nerve centres and turning the blood to ice.

"D___," I faltered, "this thing ... this what-you-may-call-it ... this costume of which you speak ... what is it?"

"A policeman's uniform, sir."

I collapsed into a chair as if the lower limbs had been scythed off. The s. had been well founded.

"It has occurred to me since that it might have been the property of E___, sir. I observed him disporting himself in the water not far away."

Who is this policeman, who has taken to the waters voluntarily, and will shortly find himself in a rather embarasing situation?

4. "I found him causing a breach of the peace, and took him into custody, and we all marched off en route to the police station. The female F___ had been pleading with me piteously to let the blighter go, and I might have done it, in spite of the fact that it was my dearest wish to make my first pinch and be fawned on by my sergeant and others, but [...] I realised that this must be the bird who did you down over those oil shares, and after that of course, I was adamant, and the upshot of the thing was that while my attention was rivetted on F___, she hauled off and biffed me on the occipital bone with what I assumed to be a cosh. I don't know what girls are coming to these days."

No prizes for identifying the lady with the impeccable wrist action, but who is the unlucky policeman this time?