Humour, might very well be the essence of a democratic society, but I sometimes find it too absurd for words!
With the murder of Colonel Hawke-Englishe, blown to bits as he was at the wicket by an exploding cricket ball, Potter, who was his back-up man, was then left out in the cold as a Shoe-Shine boy. Apparently it's the departments form of Siberia! Fine, I've no problem with that. It's the forced humour that I don't get. I mean, how on earth did this chap get his boots so muddy, on a dry day, walking long the high Street? I find it just too absurd for words!