Saki

Was the pen-name of H.H. Munro (1870-1916) an English writer, primarily of short stories, whose tragically early death in the trenches of the first World War deprived us all of, who knows what delights, in his wicked revelry and acidic wit.

But as is almost always the case where gifted people are taken away in their prime, the treasures he has left acquire a sweeter taste.

Saki's tales are funny, satiric and macabre, often using animals as figures to wreak revenge on mankind. Laughter, tinged with savagery was his forte.

Here are a few 'tasters' of his wit:

Waldo is one of those people who would be enormously improved by death.

Addresses are given to us to conceal our whereabouts.

The cook was a good cook, as cooks go; and as cooks go she went.

I always say beauty is only sin deep.

The Western custom of one wife and hardly any mistresses.

The young have aspirations that never come to pass, the old have reminiscences of what never happened.

But, good gracious, you've got to educate him first. You can't expect a boy to be vicious till he's been to a good school.

People may say what they like about the decay of Christianity; the religious system that produced green Chartreuse can never really die.

The sacrifices of friendship were beautiful in her eyes as long as she was not asked to make them.

And I defy anyone to feel unruffled after a reading of "Sredni Vashtar" - a definite precursor to the tales of the modern age.

Saki's last words were "Put that bloody cigarette out" - followed by the sound of a rifle-shot.

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	Waldo is one of those people who would be enormously improved by death.
	Addresses are given to us to conceal our whereabouts.
	The cook was a good cook, as cooks go; and as cooks go she went.
	I always say beauty is only sin deep.
	The Western custom of one wife and hardly any mistresses.
	The young have aspirations that never come to pass, the old have reminiscences of what never happened.
	But, good gracious, you've got to educate him first. You can't expect a boy to be vicious till he's been to a good school.
	People may say what they like about the decay of Christianity; the religious system that produced green Chartreuse can never really die.
	The sacrifices of friendship were beautiful in her eyes as long as she was not asked to make them.