A benevolent old gentleman stopped opposite the bed of the orderly - no need to mention names - bitten on the cheek by the Wandsworth mosquito. By the doctor's orders he had gone into a ward for a couple of days' rest, and his genial countenance, as big as a football, was swathed in bandages which would not have seemed excessive on the average V.C.
"Poor man! Was it a shrapnel wound?"
"No, only a mosquito," came the modest mumble from behind the bandages.
The compassionate visitor missed the mumble's drift. "I hope it didn't knock any of your teeth out," he remarked, as he passed on to continue his tour.
And those of us who have encountered the Wandsworth mosquito don't think this is so funny after all.
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