Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 153, Nov 21, 1917 by Various
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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI
VOL. 153
NOVEMBER 21, 1917
CHARIVARIA.
More than a million pounds of concealed sugar have been discovered in
New York. It is suspected that this was intended as the nucleus of a
hoard.
***
A contemporary recently stated that LENIN claims to stand for the
leadership of Russia. But surely they do not stand for leadership in
Russia. They rush for it with revolvers.
***
"This is a time for action, not for talk," said Colonel HOUSE on
his arrival in England. A stinging rejoinder is expected from the
FOOD-CONTROLLER'S Department.
***
It is rumoured that the restaurant keepers have agreed among
themselves that to avoid confusion the price of all beefsteaks shall
be stamped clearly on the sole.
***
The Meat Order will probably be amended to make meat-stalls rank as
shops. At present of course they suffer under the stigma of being
merely places where you can purchase meat.
***
We understand that, in order to avoid confusion and undue alarm,
German prisoners in this country will in future be expected to give
twelve hours' notice of their intention to escape.
***
Sugar is to be omitted from a number of medical preparations from
December 1st, and children are complaining that the decision has quite
spoilt their Christmas prospects.
***
Counsel, in a prosecution for selling a tobacco substitute, has stated
that there is nothing in the Act to prevent a man from smoking what he
likes. In the trade this is generally regarded as a nasty underhand
jab at the British cigar industry.
***
Lord RHONDDA, in announcing his new rationing scheme, differentiates
between brain workers and manual workers. It will be interesting to
see to which category certain Government officials will be assigned.
***
"The bamboo," according to a weekly paper, "holds the record among
plants for rapid growth, having been known to grow two feet in
twelve hours." The silence of allotment holders on this subject is
significant.
***
Mr. SYDNEY G. GAMBLE, second in command of the London Fire Brigade, is
about to retire. There is some talk of arranging a farewell fire.
***
We understand, by the way, that retirement from the London Fire
Brigade always carries with it the privilege of wearing the uniform at
one's own fires.
***
A theatrical paper advertises for a "Male impersonator" for pantomime.
No conscientious objector need apply.
***
A news message to the _Politiken_ states that the people of Iceland
are making demands for their own flag or separation. The movement
seems to be an isolated one and not likely to spread. Anyhow, there is
no cause for alarm at Tooting, where the authorities are not expecting
any trouble of this kind.
***
A Cranford dairyman has been selling milk at threepence per quart. In
trade circles it is supposed that he is doing it for a wager.
***
According to _The Evening News_, Councillor WILLIAM SHEARRING, the new
Mayor of Bermondsey, started life as a van boy. This gave him a pull
over most of us, who started life as infants.
***
After December 17th, parcels for neutral countries may not be sent
without a permit. Cement and other articles intended for enemy
consumption can only be forwarded by special arrangement with the
Ministry of Blockade.
***
The average man, says a correspondent of _The Daily Mail_, does not
know how to invest five pounds in War Loan. Yet all he has to do is to
pay his little fiver across the counter just as if he were buying a
pound of tea.
***
The LORD MAYOR'S Coachman has retired after twenty-eight years'
service. He was a splendid fellow, taking him all round.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Sociable Escort (to Bosch prisoner, after several
ineffectual attempts to start a conversation)_. "AHEM!--ER--NO TROUBLE
AT HOME, I HOPE?"]
* * * * *
An official memo from the Front:--
"A complaint has been received from the Provost Corps that two
horses, apparently ridden by grooms, committed a civil offence in
----, in that they crashed into a motor car, which at the time was
stationary, damaging same. On being questioned where they came
from, they replied, 'From Australia,' and after paying a few more
like compliments disappeared at the gallop."
It is supposed that these intelligent animals had been reading a
recent article by "Patlander."
* * * * *
"The R.F.C. on the same day bombed the junction. There was a large
numtity of rolling stock in the station, on which, and on the
station building, several direct hits were observed to cause
considerable damage."--_The Times_.
"Numtity" is doubtless a dodge of the CENSOR to prevent us knowing too
much. We suspect that "quanber" was what the writer really wanted to
say.
* * * * *
"Mr. Drucker (for the trustees of the Testator) said the late Lord
Blythswood had made 51 oleograph codicils to his will, and the
difficulty arose over two of them."--_Evening Paper_.
It rather looks as if the two were not genuine oleographs but only
colourable imitations.
* * * * *
"American eggs arriving at Manchester yesterday were quoted from
27s. 6d. to 28s. per 120, which caused Irish eggs to be reduced
from sixpence to a shilling."--_Daily Paper_.
Very Irish eggs.
* * * * *
"12 Feet Corsets at a ridiculous price of Re. 1 each, all
sizes."--_Advt. in "Advocate of India."_
"A ridiculous price," says the advertiser, but "an absurd figure"
would have been even better.
* * * * *
"The Examiners appointed by the Board of the Faculty of Natural
Science give notice that Wilfrid Dyson Hambly, Jesus College,
having submitted a dissertation on 'Tattooing and other forms of
body-marking among primitive peoples,' will be publicly examined
on Monday, November 12, at 2.30 p.m., in the Department of Social
Anthropology, Barnett House."--_Oxford University Gazette_.
We trust he showed, and obtained, full marks.
* * * * *
TO ATTILA'S UNDERSTUDY.
[Reuter reports that a British prisoner has been sentenced to a
year's imprisonment for calling Germans "Huns."]
The choice was yours, we understood.
We thought that, when you wished to cater
For China's spiritual good,
This name received your imprimatur;
"Go forth," you said, "my sons!
Go and behave exactly like the Huns!"
Though under any other name,
However alien to their nature,
Your people would have smelt the same,
We let you choose their nomenclature,
And studiously respected
The one that in your wisdom you selected.
And now, when someone, clearly set
On flattering you by imitation,
Applies that chosen epithet
To certain units of your nation,
It seems a little odd
That you should go and clap him into quod.
Perhaps you've come to hold the view
That when you claimed to touch their level
You were unfair to heathens who
Candidly called their god a devil;
Who fought some barbarous fights,
But fought at least according to their lights.
So Huns are off. Who takes their place?
Well, since no beast on earth would stick it
If after him we named your race,
We'll call you Germans--there's your ticket;
Just Germans--that's a style
Which can't offend the other vermin's bile.
O. S.
* * * * *
NIGHTMARES.
II.
OF A T.B.D. CAPTAIN, WHO DREAMS THAT HE HAS FOUND HIS LOG BOOK MADE UP
BY MR. PH*L*P G*BBS.
_Time:--7.30 A.M._--Once more we set out on our never-ending mission,
our ceaseless vigil of the seas. The ruddy weather-stained coxswain
swung the wheel this way and that--his eyes were of the blue that only
the sea can give--in obedience to, or rather in accord with, the curt,
mystic, seaman-like orders of the young officer of the watch. "Hard
a-port! Midships! Hard a-starboard! Port 20! Steady as she goes!" And
ceaselessly the engine-room telegraph tinkled, and the handy little
craft, with death and terror written in her workmanlike lines for
the seaman, for all her slim insignificance to the landlubber on the
towering decks of the great liner, swung smartly through the crowded
water-way out to the perils lurking 'neath the seeming smile of the
open sea: the guardian angel of our commerce it went, to meet--what
Heaven alone could foretell!
_Course_.--S. 70 deg. E. Towards the rising sun and our brethren in khaki,
toiling in the wet mud as we toil on the wet waters!
_Deviation_.--1 deg. E. Wonderful the accuracy of the little instrument
whereon men's lives do hang, wise in the lore of the firmament!
_Patent Log_.--O. Nothing--as yet! What will it register ere the day
be done? Or will its speckless copper lie rusting in the grey chill of
the sea's dank depths?
_Revs_.--I don't know, but the propellers swirl faithfully and
unceasingly.
_Wind_.--W. by E. Bearing a message across the vast Atlantic of hope
and present succour from our new great Ally, the mighty Republic of
the West. America, ah America! But we of the sea are men of few words,
and this is not the place.
_Force_.--3. A balmy zephyr, yet with the sharp salt tang of the sea
that a sailor loves.
_Sea_.--2. Softly undulating is the swell, scarce perceptible to
inexperienced eyes, such as those of the land-lubbers on the towering
decks of the great liners; gleaming dead copper and blue in the
morning sun, flecked with spectral white in the distance--the easy
roll of untrammelled waters!
_Weather_.--C. Detached clouds. Almost had I written "B," seeing the
perfect filmy blue all around the horizon; but a seaman's scrutiny
showed me faint fluffy wisps o'erhead, luminous and marged with
palest gold; and ever must a sailor be suspicious of the treacherous
weather-god.
_Thermometer_.--42 deg. Not yet is Winter here, but its threat
approaches.
_Barometer_.--30.01. Will it stay there?
_Remarks_.--Once more we set out on our ceaseless vigil, our
* * * * *
_Remarks_.--(7.30 P.M.).--Another day has passed, another day's duty
has been done. Nothing _apparently_ has happened outside the ordinary
routine of the ship. One keen-eyed young officer has succeeded another
on the bridge, with tired lines on a face grey beneath the great brown
hood of his duffle--a face so youthful, yet with the knowledge of
the command of men writ plain thereon. The propellers have swirled
faithfully and unceasingly; the good ship in consequence has cleft the
passive waves. But who knows what hideous lurking peril of mine or
torpedo we have not survived, what baleful eye has not glowered at us,
itself unseen, and retired again to its foul underworld, baulked of
its thirsted prey?
III.
OF THE EDITOR OF _THE DAILY YAP_, ON OBSERVING THAT HIS SPECIAL
CORRESPONDENT IS A RETIRED LIEUT., R.N., WHO SENDS HIM THE FOLLOWING
ACCOUNT OF A PUSH:--
Time: 6.0 A.M. Course: (approx.) E. Distance run: 1-1/2 m. Wind: S.W.
Force: 6. State of land: 5 (rough, owing to craters). Weather: R.
Therm.: 35 deg. Bar.: 28.89. Remarks: Objectives attained. Observation
hampered by weather.
* * * * *
BIG GAME SHOOTING.
"Angus Bowser, the popular feed merchant of Dartmouth, shot his
mouse on Thanksgiving Day. With a couple of friends he left in
auto about 1 o'clock Monday afternoon for Bowser's Station. The
party was in the woods for about two hours when the mouse was
sighted."--_Canadian Paper_.
We hope Mr. ROOSEVELT will not be jealous.
* * * * *
Extracts from a recent novel:--
"He stepped out at Fernhurst Station, and walked up past the
Grey Abbey that watched as a sentinel over the dreamy Derbyshire
town.... So it was the system that was at fault, not Fernhurst.
Fairly contentedly he went back by the 3.30 from Waterloo."
The train system which sent him to the Midlands by the South-Western
was doubtless deranged by military exigencies.
* * * * *
"Although Lord Warwick is the most sympathetic and attentive of
listeners, he has not remembered more than one good story,
and that has now been quoted in all the papers; we mean Lord
Beaconsfield story is said to be unprintable; then why tantalise
Lord Rosslyn, on account of the possible effect of his language
on the pack, compensated by the Commissionership of the Kirk of
Scotland. The other Beaconsfield story is said to be unprintable,
then why tantalise us?"--_Saturday Review_.
Why, indeed?
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE GREAT UNCONTROLLED.
LORD RHONDDA. "LOOK HERE, JOHN, ARE YOU GOING TO TIGHTEN THAT BELT, OR
MUST I DO IT FOR YOU?"
JOHN BULL. "YOU DO IT FOR ME. THAT'S WHAT YOU'RE THERE FOR."]
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Farmer_. "WHY DO THEY LET THAT CLOCK CHIME? AREN'T
THEY AFRAID THE HUNS MIGHT HEAR IT?"
_Yokel_. "BLESS YOU, THAT'S TO DECEIVE 'EM. IT'S 'ALF-A-HOUR FAST."]
* * * * *
HOW TO BECOME A TOWN-MAJOR.
Through large and luminous glasses Second-Lieut. St. John regards this
War and its problems. He is a man of infinite jobs. There are few
villages in France of which he has not been Town Major. Between
times he has been Intelligence Officer, Divisional Burial Officer,
Divisional Disbursing Officer, Salvage Officer, Claims, Baths,
Soda-water and Canteens Officer.
He was once appointed Town-Major of some brick-dust, a rafter and two
empty bully-beef tins--all of which in combination bore the name of a
village. He assumed his duties with a bland Pickwickian zest, which
did good to the heart. He had boards painted.
_______________________
| |
| THIS IS BLANK VILLAGE |
|_______________________|
said one aggressively, and
____________________________
| |
| TO THE TOWN-MAJOR OF BLANK |
| ==> |
|____________________________|
said another. A third read,
____________________
| |
| TO THE INCINERATOR |
| <== |
|____________________|
though there was nothing there to incinerate and (incidentally) no
incinerator. "HORSES," shouted another didactically, "MUST NOT TROT
THROUGH THE MAIN STREET." That there was no street there at all did
not detract from the splendour of his notices, on which he spent much
paint and happiness.
With the slightest encouragement he would have placarded that
arid wilderness with "NO SMOKING IN THE LIFTS," and "BEWARE OF
PICKPOCKETS," but he had small encouragement, and so he contented
himself with a final placard which warned the troops against riding
through standing crops and occupying the houses of civilians without
permission from the Town-Major.
Still, no one becomes a Town-Major without some sort of claim to the
post.
Second-Lieut. St. John's first appearance in Armageddon took place
during "peace-time warfare." An unpleasant and quite unnecessary
little bulge in the trench-line, known as the Toadstool, was manned
by the platoon of which he found himself second-in-command. It is
rumoured that a Hun patrol, crawling to the edge of our parapet,
saw in the ghastly glare of a Verey light the benign and spectacled
countenance of Second-Lieut. St. John staring amiably across No Man's
Land, and came to the hasty conclusion that they had made a mistake as
to direction, since here was obviously one of their own officers of
the Herr Professor type. Rumour adds that they retired to their own
lines and were promptly shot for cowardice.
Certain it is that on that particular night Second-Lieut. St. John did
a thing the full details of which are now revealed to the Intelligence
Corps for the first time. He fired a Verey light. It pleased him
enormously. The sense that he, and he alone, was the cause of all
those sliding shadows and that flood of greenish light in No Man's
Land went to his head like strong drink. He fired another and another
and another.... The Hun was puzzled at this departure from routine,
and opened a morose machine-gun fire which skimmed the top of the
parapet and covered Second-Lieut. St. John with earth from shattered
sandbags. He went on firing Verey lights in a sort of bland ecstasy
till his supply ran out, when he went to his Company Commander's
dug-out for more. He filled his pockets with fresh ammunition, went
back to his post, and began firing again. The first light was mauve.
He almost clapped his hands at it, and fired the second. It was pink.
The third was yellow, the fourth scarlet, and the fifth emerald green.
"The Crystal Palace," said Second-Lieut. St. John, "isn't in it." And
then, because his watch had ended, he handed over to another yawning
subaltern and went to bed.
Over miles and miles of country wild-eyed gunners were glaring into
the night and asking each other blasphemous questions. What did it
mean?
"It must be Huns," said the British gunners; "they're coming over."
"That is without doubt an English signal," said the enemy. "We will
prepare for an attack."
Then the Hun gunners suddenly made up their minds to be on the safe
side, and they put down a tremendous barrage on to No Man's Land.
"Told you so; they're on to our front line," said we, and put down a
tremendous barrage on to No Man's Land.
A Hun sentry, waking with a start, sounded the gas alarm. It was taken
up all along the German line and overheard by a vigilant British
sentry, who promptly set himself to make all possible noise with every
possible means.
Old French ladies in villages twenty miles back from the line lay
all that night hideous in respirators. Anxious Staffs rang up other
anxious Staffs. Gunners questioned the infantry. The infantry desired
information from the gunners. All along the line the private soldier
was jolted from that kind of trance which he calls "getting down to
it," and was bidden to stand to till morning.
And our Mr. St. John, who was a new and superfluous officer and liable
to be overlooked, slept through it all with a fat smile.
* * * * *
It was after that that they made him a Town-Major.
* * * * *
OUR PAMPERED "CONCHIES."
"There was a long and interesting debate on the imprisonment of
conscientious objectors in the House of Lords."--_The Times_.
This beats Donington Hall to a frazzle.
* * * * *
"Teachers will welcome the resolution deploring 'the omission
from the Bill of any limitation upon the size of
classics.'"--_Teacher's World_.
Their pupils are believed to hold a diametrically opposite opinion.
* * * * *
After the Guildhall Banquet:--
"Some had black leather bags, some had aprons. Others had nothing
at all and staggered off with a conglomeration of beef, pie, and
turtle soup tucked up under their arms."--_Weekly Dispatch_.
The menu said "Clear Soup," but this must have been a bit thick.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Sandy (on departure of peace-crank, who has been
holding forth)_. "MAN, HE'S A QUEER CARD, THAT. THINK YE HE'S A'
THERE, DONALD?"
_Donald_. "DOD, SANDY, IF WHAT'S NO THERE IS LIKE WHAT IS THERE, IT'S
JUST AS WEEL HE'S NO A' THERE."]
* * * * *
LEGAL INTELLIGENCE.
DAVID LLOYD GEORGE, described as Prime Minister, was charged,
on the information of HERBERT HENRY ASQUITH, with exceeding the
speech limit while on tour. Mr. BONAR LAW, who appeared for the
defendant, asked for an adjournment and invited the Court to "wait
and see." Upon hearing those words prosecutor broke down and had
to be assisted out of the court.
* * * * *
HORATIO BOTTOMLEY pleaded "Not guilty" to a charge of
fortune-telling. It appears that the defendant had stated that the
War would be over by Christmas. For the defence it was stated that
the defendant had not specified which Christmas, and even so if he
had said so it was so. Defendant asked for a remand to enable him
to dispense with legal assistance.
* * * * *
RESULT OF THE FOOD SHORTAGE?
"Exchange new gold full plate, seven teeth, for good brown skin
hearthrug."--_The Lady_.
* * * * *
From the police-notice _re_ air-raid warnings:--
"When the car has two occupants one might concentrate on whistling
and calling out 'Take Cover.'"
As his own won't be enough he should borrow the other occupant's
mouth.
* * * * *
THE NEW MRS. MARKHAM.
v.
CONVERSATION ON CHAPTER LXXIII.
_Mary_. There were two things in your last chapter that I did not
quite understand--the National Debt and the Flappers.
_Mrs. M_. About the National Debt, my dear child, I think you must
wait until your papa comes home to tea, but perhaps I can satisfy
your curiosity about the Flappers, who were indeed amongst the most
singular and formidable products of the age we have been discussing.
The origin of the term is obscure, some authorities connecting it with
the term "flap-doodle," others with the motion of a bird's wings, and
I remember a verse in an old song which ran as follows:--
"Place me somewhere east of Suez
On a lone and rocky shore,
Where the Britons cease from Britling
And the flappers flap no more."
This, however, does not throw much light on the subject. Perhaps
the term Flapper may best be defined as meaning a twentieth-century
hoyden, and was applied to a type of girl from the age of thirteen to
seventeen, whose extravagances in speech, manner and dress caused deep
dismay among the more serious members of the community. In particular
the learned Dr. SHADWELL denounced them with great severity in a
leading review, but with little result. They bedizened themselves with
frippery, shrieked like parrots on all occasions and interpreted the
motto of the time, "Carry On," in a sense deplorably remote from its
higher significance.
_George_. I think it seems, Mamma, as if the young girls of those
times must have tried to make themselves as unpleasant as possible.
How thankful I am that Mary is not a Flapper!
_Mrs. M_. You may well be. But allowance must be made for the
misapplied energy of our ancestors. If the Flappers excite our
disgust, their subsequent treatment moves our commiseration, since the
Sumptuary and Disciplinary Laws passed by the House of Ladies dealt in
drastic fashion with the offences which I have described. As a matter
of fact many Flappers grew up into excellent and patriotic women. I
remember my grandmother saying to me once, "When I was sixteen I had a
voice like a cockatoo and the manners of a monkey," but nothing could
have been more discreet or sedate than her deportment in old age.
_Richard_. Did the Flappers speak English?
_Mrs. M_. Presumably; but, judging from the records of their dialect
which have come down to us, their speech was made up of a succession
of squeals rather than of articulate words, and has so far defied
the efforts of modern philologists. Indeed speech seems to have been
almost at a discount, owing to the immense popularity of the moving
picture play, then in its infancy and as yet unaccompanied by
mechanical reproduction of the voices of the actors. Indeed at one
time it was said that there were only three adjectives in use in
Flapper society--"ripping," "rotten" and "top-hole," I think they
were.
_George_. What stupid words! I wish they could have heard some of
papa's adjectives.
_Mrs. M_. Your father, my dear, has a copious and picturesque
vocabulary, but phrases which are pardonable in moments of expansion
in a person of mature years are not always suitable for juveniles.
* * * * *
THE TRANSGRESSOR.
I was walking painfully along a lonely road towing my
three-thousand-guinea ten-cylinder twelve-seater. According to
Regulation 777 X, both brakes were on. My overcoat collar was turned
up to protect my sensitive skin from a blasting easterly gale, and
through the twilight I was able to see but a few yards ahead. I had
a blister on my heel. Somewhere, many miles to the eastward, lay my
destination. Suddenly two gigantic forms emerged from the hedgerow
and laid each a gigantic paw upon my shoulders. A gruff voice barked
accusingly in my ear.