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[Page 18]
fails to do well. One of the schemes is to turn your shirt inside out once or twice a day, so as to give them so much route marching that it breaks their little hearts. Some have a method of leaving them serverly alone so that they get so big & fat that they eventually burst. There is a little story told of a London cockney, calling out to his mate in a neighbouring trench, "I say 'arry, 'ave you got any lices over there?" "Lices! not 'arf we aint! Bags of 'em." "Garn! I don't mean them 'ere lousey lices, I means boot lices."
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