In his Meditations on First Philosophy, Rene Descartes sought to examine his existence from the ground up. Wary of the unreliable nature of human perception, he famously began with a very simple observation: "Cogito, ergo sum" - "I think, therefore I am." This classic line soon found its way into many jokes, among them...
"Descartes goes into a bar and is greeted by a friend: "Bonjour, Rene how about a beer?" "I think not," Rene replies - and promptly disappears.

Anton Bruckner had a chubby, fat pug dog named Mops," Fritz Kreisler, a former pupil of Bruckner's once recalled. "He would leave us with Mops munching our sandwiches while he himself hastened off to luncheon. We decided we'd play a joke on our teacher which would flatter him. So while the Meister was away, we'd play a motif by Wagner, and as we did so, would slap Mops and chase him. Next we'd start Bruckner's Te Deum, and while this music was in progress, would give Mops something to eat. He soon showed a convincing preference for the Te Deum! When we thought we had trained him sufficiently so that he would automatically run away when Wagner was played and joyfully approach us at the sound of a Bruckner strain, we deemed the moment appropriate for our prank.
"'Meister Bruckner,' we said one day as he returned from lunch, 'we know that you are devoted to Wagner, but to our way of thinking he cannot compare with you. Why, even a dog would know that you are a greater composer than Wagner.'
"Our guileless teacher blushed. He thought we were serious. He reproved us, paid tribute to Wagner as unquestionably the greatest contemporary, but was nevertheless filled with enough curiousity to ask what we meant by claiming even a dog could tell the difference.
"This was the moment we had waited for. We played a Wagner motif. A howling, scared Mops stole out of the room. We started in on Bruckner's Te Deum. A happy canine returned, wagging his tail and pawing expectantly at our sleeves. Bruckner was touched."

Special Delivery

"I was nearly mobbed by autograph hunters and other fans at Charing Cross station while waiting for a train," George Arliss once recalled. "I did not want to leave the station and miss the train, nor could I seek refuge in a refreshment room. But the left luggage office was just behind me and close to the platform from which I was to start. I turned to the man in charge and demanded the right to book myself as a parcel. I paid my twopence and the man took me over the counter and I was saved. This method of retreat I confidently recommend to other picture stars in railway stations."

Given the choice between boxing and having a good time, the great Irish fighter Jack Doyle naturally chose the latter. Having won a few bouts and been hailed as the next heavyweight champion, he did not see the need for any more training, or even fighting.
"In October 1938, however, after a seventeen-month lay-off during which he attended a large number of parties, Doyle announced that he was returning to fight Eddie Phillips and this time he would be taking it seriously.
"First, he arrived half an hour late, having been held up in a traffic jam outside Harringay Arena. In the second round he swung such a mighty punch that, when Phillips stepped sideways, Doyle knocked himself out, plunged through the ropes and landed next to the time keeper who solemnly counted to ten."

Party Trick

"Maurice Baring used to be well known (and liked to be well known) for his ability to balance a glass of champagne on top of his head. Once I asked him, at a party, to perform this trick for the benefit of my wife, who had never seen him do it. He took the glass from her hand, placed it on top of his head and immediately spilled it all over the wife of a cabinet minister.
"He sniffed delicately at the disaster and said... 'I ought to have known I could never do it with whiskey.'"