Early one morning, the Ven. Polwatte Buddhadaththa Nayaka Thero left Ambalangoda, bound for Colombo, in his car, with his faithful driver Martin at the wheel.

Very soon, as was his wont, the Nayaka Thero was immersed in a book in the rear seat.

Suddenly the car vent with a bump! Over something lying on the road. It was a pup, a stray sleeping on the road.

“What was that, Martin?” asked the Nayaka Ther.

“A pol-lella, hamuduruwane” replied the considerate Martin, to spare the good monk, unnecessary sorrow and anguish (Pol-lella – coconut husk).

After proceeding a few miles, the thero saw a pup about to cross the road.

“Careful Martin” he cautioned the driver”. There is another “polella” about to cross the road.”

The village “kasippu-kaaraya” died and was given a grand funeral by his near and dear ones.

Heaven knows they could afford it, for the dead man was not only a bootlegger, but also a purveyor of “kansa” (ganja, marijuwana) and illicit toddy (Raa).

As usual at his funeral there were many speeches, and every one of them extolled virtues that the dead scoundral did not remotely possess. This load of hypocritical rubbish incensed the more honest among the villagers.

Across the road leading to the dead man’s house, a huge banner had been drawn overhead, and on it, under the dead man’s name and the pious wish that he attain Nirvana, were the well known words “Anichchawatha Sankara” (All thing’s are transient).

The morning after, the entire village shook with laughter, for during the night, someone had changed the last word and it now read “Anichchwatha Kansa – Raa”.

A notorious feller of illicit timber celebrated his daughters’ wedding. He erected a pandal spanning his gate and on the pandal were the words “Saadarayen Piliganimu” (cordial welcome).

In the night a prankstar had changed it slightly to read “Saadarayen Lee Ganimu”.

This reminds me of the legendary Haras Mudalali who had a house to let. He then had a board put up outside saying “To let” in English. A few days later he found that a mischief – maker had made it read “Toilet”. He also found that some vendals had used it for that purpose.

A friend of his then suggested that he put up the board in Sinhala. So a board with the words “Badhu Deemata Thibey” was put up. The next day to his rage, he discovered that the first letter “Ba” had been erased and the board now read “Dhu Deemata Thieby” (daughter available for marriage).

This was a time when English was the official language. One night Gnanadasa was riding his bicycle without a light when he was copped by a policeman without a light when he was copped by a policeman on night patrol. Taking out his notebook, the policeman asked Gnanadasa his name and address and began writing them laboriously in his notebook.

Peeping over the cop’s shoulder Gnanadasa said “Ralahamy! You have written Gunadasa when my name is Gnanadasa”.

The ralahamy scratched it out, them scratched his head and made a few attempts to get the name right. Failing, he gave it up and snapped the book closed, and gave Gnanadasa a severe lecture on his civic responsibilities and warned him not to repeat the offence.

Premier Sirimavo Bandaranaike was on an official visit to the Soviet Union in the nineteen sixties.

One day she was hosted by the Soviet-Ceylon Friendship Society Union in the nineteen sixties.

And there was a beautiful red banner right across the road in Sinhala which read “Garu Methiniya Aadarayen Paliganimu”. Seeing it Methiniya had laughed and said “It doesn’t matter, as long as it’s “Aadarayen” (cordially).

Uncle Soysa was a genial and sociable man who lost his cool one day, in a caste – conscious Ceylon, almost six decades ago. Though he was invited to a very important and largely attended function in his village, he was conspicuous by his absence. And, when a friend asked him as to why he did not attend the function, he had said furiously “How can I come, I say? When these bloody jackasses don’t know how to spell a name”.

“I am Soysa and not Zoysa”.

One day a person addressed a letter to the Excise Commissioner, Western Region, using Sinhala initials only, thus: “Suko Bako”? (Surdbadhu Komasaris Batahira Kottasaya).

The following day the GPO returned the letter to him, with the Sinhala words “Moko Yako?”

On receipt of it, he met a high official of the GPO and protested vehemently at the proffered insult.

The GPO official then soothingly said “We didn’t mean to insult you at all. The words “Moko Yako” stands for “Mohu Koheda?” Yavanney Kohatada?” (Where is he? Where do we send it?)

A man who had just built a new house for himself, wrote (in Sinhala, to the relevant officer requesting him to issue him, the house owner, a Certificate of Conformity. To issue it, the official had to first inspect the house. So the official wrote back to the owner of the house, also in Sinhala, asking him to send a hundred rupees as “pagaawa”.

Shocked at the official’s efforntery and bravado in solciiting a bribe so openly, and in writing too, the man wrote back indignantly that he was not prepared to give a cent as a bribe.

The official replied back to say that his letter had been misunderstood by the owner of the new house. The hundred rupees was the inspection Fee – Parikshana Gaasthu Wasayen (Pa – Gaa – Wa). The official further added that nowadays a bribe is not called “pagawa” but “jaraawa”.

“One day an old woman got into a bus and placed the marketing-bag she was carrying on the gear box. Seeing this the driver has asked good naturedly, “Ammay, when you keep your “malla’ here, how do I put the gear?”

“Put it into my “malla”, puthay,” said the old lady cheerily “put it into my Mall!”

(10A) Five Buddhist monks from Sri Lanka were at the Heathrow Airport and the Immigration Officer who was going through their passports said with an amused grin”, Five brothers with the same surname Thero, from the same family?”

One day a club member addressed a temperance meeting. He spoke eloquently on the evil of drinking arrack, toddy and kasippu. That evening when he was there at the club with a glass of whisky in his hand another member told him “You are a damn hypocrite.”

“Why?” he asked quite astonished.

“It was just this afternoon, that I heard you speak out passionately about the evils of taking liquor…”

“Hold it! Hold it!” he said. “I spoke on the evils of drinking arrack, toddy and kasippu. And, I did not mention a word about the drking of whisky!”

Ruthan Appu was an incurable drunkard. He drank 365 day a year and that extra day in the leap year.

One Vesak evening, drunk as usual, Ruvithan was walking past the village temple, singing a song, when an angry voice called out to him.

“Ruvithan Unnahe!” said the voice, which Ruvithan recognised as the voice of the High Priest of the temple.

“Loku Hamuduruwane?” said Ruvithan humbly.

“Chee, Ruvithan Unnahe, chee!” said the the Loku Hamuduruwo in disgust. “Even on this thrice blessed Vesak Poya Day, you cannot refrain from taking liquor.”

“Thrice Blessed?” asked Ruvithan vaguely.

“Yes, Thrice Blessed!” said the venerable monk vehemently. “It commemorates the Birth, the attaining Enlgihtment, and the passing away of the Buddha. You should observe at least this Thrice Blessed Day in a more appropriate manner!”

“And I am! Loku Hamuduruwane, I am! Said Ruvithan, quickly gathering his wits. “Today I drank to celebrate the first two joyous events, and to drown my sorrow at the last unhappy event!”

A club member, a very rich planter, was sending his daughter abroad for further studies. Meeting him one evening at the club, the club Malaprop inquired “I say! I hear your daughter is going to Europe. What for I say?”

“Oh!” said the planter airily, waving his whisky and soda. “She’s going to enlarge her repertoire!”

“What I say!” said the Malapop in concern, “Can’t our doctors do it?”

Once a lunatic wrote a letter to God, asking him for ten rupees, as he did not have any money.

The Superintendent of the Asylum, as a rule, opened all letters written by the inmates. And, when he read this letter, his heart melted. Slipping five rupees into an envelope, he went to the lunatic’s cell the next morning saying “I say, here’s the reply to your letter” and handed it to him.

That evening another letter to God lay on the officer’s table. “Dear God”, it read, “thank you very much for the money, but in future, please don’t send it through the Superintendent. The rascal has lifted five bucks.”

This little boy was saving his pocket money to buy a cricket bat. And, one night when he was saying prayers, his mother was amused to hear him add “And please God, help me to save the money for the bat, by stopping the icecream man from coming down our road.”

Another little boy wrote this letter to his grandmother. “Dear Granny! I am sorry I forgot your birthday last week. It would serve me right if you forgot mine next Wednesday.”

One great leader of his country who waged an unrelenting war against public life was Jomo Kenyatta, the founder President of free Kenya.

When he got to know that one of his ministers was notorious for his corrupt ways, he summoned the man and asked him “What is your name?”

Surprised, the minister gave his name. Slashing the man’s face with his famous fly-whisk, Kenyatta roared “No, not that name! Tell me what the people call you!”

And in a subdued and chagrined voice, the rascal replied: “Mr. one-and-half percent!” (Thank God it is not ten percent, like elsewhere).

Once a businessman in a provincial town applied for a licence to open a wine-store at a prominent place in the town. The local kasippu mudalali got wind of this, and one night, he got some of his “catchers’ to plant a large Bo-plant close to the place. Then he got a big Buddha statue placed under the Bo-tree. Thereafter he petitioned the authorities that the businessman was going to open his wine store close to a place of religious worship.

The authorities informed the petitioner (the kasippu mudalali) that they were going to inspect the place on a certain day. When they arrived a big “pooja” was going on, complete with he wisi and all, with a large crowd of “Upasaka – Upasikawas” (all hired by the mudalali) participating.

The businessman’s application to open a wine-store was rejected, and the kasippu mudalali carried on regardless.

A temperance worker, after an impassioned speech on the evils of liquor, carried out the usual demonstration. He held up a glass of arrack and dropped a worm into it. The worm wriggled for a second or two, and was still.

“There!” shouted the temperance worker.” That should prove what arrack is like! This worm that was happy and alive just a few seconds ago, is now dead. And what killed it? Arrack!”

“Aney deiyyane” cried a woman in the crowd. “For the last ten years, I have been going miles to the government dispensary, wasting good money on bus-fare, to get worm treatment for my children, when all I had to do was to give them a little of my husband’s arrack!”

When bus fares weren’t as high as they are today, and when the balance was sometimes five or ten cents, there was a severe shortage of these coins. And some bus conductors were in the habit of giving commuters their balance in toffees, with a toffee for every unit of five cents, that being the price of a toffee in those not so distant days. But one conductor promply stopped this when one enterprising passenger one day offered him ten toffees as bus fare.

Once at a party there was a little cross talk between two of the guests, and one rose to assault the other. Some of the other guests quickly rushed up, and separated the two. Apparently, they were arguing about the so-called prestige of the trousers, and the man who was decrying the garment had said, “I say, did your bloody forefathers wear trousers?”

The other had yelled, “Why, you s-o-b, are you trying to insult my mother?” and tried to hit the chap. He had thought the other meant “four fathers.”

Like the late Father Rev. Justin Perera, the late Bishop of Galle, the Right Rev. Dr. Anthony de Saram also had a warm heart and a delightful sense of humour. One day a Parish Priest – Father Elmo Perera (he himself was the Bishop of Galle, later) took some documents to Biship de Saram for signature.

Borrowing the priest’s pen, his Lordship signed the papers, and then examining the pen with admiration commented on its beauty and elegance.

“Elmo” said the Bishop with a very straight face, “would you consider gifting this to me?”

“Gladly, my Lord” replied Father Elmo”, but unfortunately my name is inscribed on it.”

“Oh! That doesn’t matter, I have only to get the word “From” inscribed in front of your name,” laughed Bishop Anthony de Saram as he returned the pen.

A member of the Faculty, in a London Medical College was appointed Honorary Physician to the Queen, and next day he proudly wrote on the blackboard in his classroom” “Your Professor would like to inform his students that he has been appointed Honorary Physician to Her Majesty the Queen”. When he returned after lunch, someone had written below it, in large letters, the words “God Save the Queen”.