| Title | The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists |
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| Page | 1165 |
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| Chapter | -- |
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Most of them would have said the same thing no matter what the circumstances might have been. They had very little sympathy for each other at any time. Often, when, for instance, one man was sent away from one `job' to another, the others would go into his room and look at the work he had been doing, and pick out all the faults they could find and show them to each other, making all sorts of ill-natured remarks about the absent one meanwhile. `Jist run yer nose over that door, Jim,' one would say in a tone of disgust. `Wotcher think of it? Did yer ever see sich a mess in yer life? Calls hisself a painter!' And the other man would shake his head sadly and say that although the one who had done it had never been up to much as a workman, he could do it a bit better than that if he liked, but the fact was that he never gave himself time to do anything properly: he was always tearing his bloody guts out! Why, he'd only been in this room about four hours from start to finish! He ought |
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