Prince of Wales & Bloaters

A gude frash harring is a varry gude thing, espashally whan she's frash.

--West Scotland saying.

"Herrings alive! Herrings alive! Fine Yarmouth bloaters!" cried lusty Yarmouth fisherfolk one morning last week as usual, then changed their tune to "Hurrah for th' Prince o' Wales!"

A fishmonger's band blared "God Bless The Prince of Wales." Out of twinkling limousines stepped the Heir of Britain and his top-hatted retinue. Fastidiously they inspected the oozy, odorous docks, mounted a pot-bellied Yarmouth drifter, stood for a moment on the brink of a hold in which squirmed some 50,000 herrings alive.

"Gee, what a catch!" grinned impeccably clad Edward. "A fine mess we'd be in, gentlemen, if we fell into that!"

Human touch No. 2 of the Royal visit was H. R. H.'s frank confession that, like most people, he did not know the difference between herrings, bloaters, kippers.

Hard by stood one Jack Carter, horny-handed skipper of the drifter. "Tell me now," said Royal Edward, grave with interest, "when is a bloater a kipper?"

"Well, Sir, it's like this. When we catches one he's good fresh herring. When they salts him and hangs him up to dry he's a bloater. When they splits him down his middle and dries him some more, why then, Sir, he's a kipper."

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.