Western Mail, Thursday 11 May 1933, page 2
"Dear "Non-Com.,"- Hereunder another: Scene: Perham Downs, Parkhouse Camp Orderly Room.
Problem: Draft ordered to France.
Commanding Officer: "Sarg't-Major!"
"Here, Paddy. There's two leadswingers in this list who have dodged the draft for nine months. I'll bet you and Sergeant Bradbury a quid to nothing each that you can't get the two blighters to France."
"Right! The quid's mine," says Sergeant- Major Paddy.
The evening before the draft left Paddy burst into the orderly room and when he left off swearing, he told me "That dirty traitor has jumped on his teeth." "That's all right, Paddy. We'll get 'cm mended to-night. Have the owner of 'em on draft to-morrow."
Paddy got him to France and after the trip, when he collected his quid, I asked how he managed to guard against further vandalism.
"Quite aisy," said Paddy. "I used to watch him eat his meals so he wouldn't chew no bones, and when he had finished wid his teeth I used to take 'em off him!"