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Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 104, March 18, 1893

Name: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 104, March 18, 1893
Author: Various

by Various

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Language: en448 downloads on Project Gutenberg

Subjects

English wit and humor -- Periodicals

In: Punch·Humour·Classics of Literature

Public-domain ebook sourced from Project Gutenberg #22645.

About this book

Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 104 (March 18 1893) is a Victorian periodical that gathers a kaleidoscope of satirical sketches, mock debates, and whimsical verses. The issue opens with a frantic exchange among an “Inquirer” and several “W.I.M.”s, who argue over parliamentary schedules, the absurdities of legislative procedure, and the prospect of gaining a seat in the House of Commons. Their banter, peppered with references to figures such as Sir Robert Peel and the fictional “Bonker,” segues into a series of short items, political “Queer Queries,” a mock‑ballad in mock‑German, a parody of a booking‑office review, and a host of absurdist jokes about architecture, liquid air, and medical dispensing. The layout mirrors the original magazine’s eclectic format, moving swiftly from dialogue to parody to illustrated vignette, giving a sense of the lively, fast‑moving humor that defined Punch’s pages.

The voice is unmistakably Victorian: a blend of rapid‑fire repartee, exaggerated diction, and a fondness for wordplay that revels in the absurdities of everyday life and public affairs. Its style is conversational yet theatrical, with characters adopting exaggerated personas, politicians, doctors, laborers, while the prose darts between earnest mock‑seriousness and outright silliness. Readers who enjoy the wit of 19th‑century British satire, the theatricality of period‑piece dialogue, and the delight of spotting historical references amid nonsense will find this issue rewarding. It especially appeals to those fascinated by the social and political commentary of the era, who appreciate humor that both lampoons and preserves the flavor of Victorian public discourse.

Who appears in Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 104, March 18, 1893

BonkerMiddle‑aged Victorian gentleman, rumpled coat, black satchel, disheveled hair, bewildered expression
Sir Robert PeelDistinguished 19th‑century statesman, powdered wig, crisp tailcoat, dignified moustache, aristocratic bearing

The opening · free to read

Inquirer (suddenly, with intense alarm). Oh, I say, look here, you chaps. Here's old GLADSTONE gone and suspended the Twelve o'Clock Rule. What does that mean?

Second W. I. M. It means that they start everything at twelve o'clock in the day.

First W. I. M. No, it doesn't. It means that they don't start anything till twelve o'clock at night.

Second W. I. M. (pityingly). My dear fellow, where have you been all these years? They always go home on the stroke of midnight now.

First W. I. M. That's just where you're wrong. Midnight to two in the morning is just jolly well their best time now.

Second W. I. M. I'll bet you half a thick 'un you're wrong!

First W. I. M. And I'll bet you half a thick 'un I'm right!

[_The argument continues for some minutes in this strain._

Inquirer. I wonder if they'll have any obstruction. I should like to see some of that. I believe it's no end amusing.

Second W. I. M. Oh, you may trust this Opposition for that. Their only notion for employing time is to obstruct everything and everybody.

First W. I. M. (with a deadly calmness). Ah! you call it obstruction, of course, because you want to rush your iniquitous Bills through the House. But you don't think we're going to stand that, do you?--because we're not, and the Country's with us. Just look at Grimsby.

Second W. I. M. All right! Suppose you look at Cirencester.

First W. I. M. What do you say to Stockport then?

Second W. I. M. And what do you say to Walsham and Hexall, and all the rest of them? (At the suggestion of the Average Man, they abandon this fiery debate. A pause.)

Inquirer. Who's Speaker now?

First W. I. M. Sir ROBERT PEEL.

Inquirer. Will he be there to-night?

First W. I. M. Of course he will. He's got to be there.

Inquirer. But then what does the Chairman of Committee do?

First W. I. M. Oh, ah,--um, let me see; the Chairman of Committee does----(Brightly.) He's only appointed, you know, when they want a Committee about something.

Second W. I. M. I fancy he has to read the Bills.

First W. I. M. (gathering assurance as he proceeds). Not when they're read a first time. Somebody else does that--I forget what they call him. The Chairman reads 'em a second time, and takes 'em up to the House of Lords.

Inquirer. So he does, of course. I ought to have remembered that. But I'd got a sort of notion they didn't really read the Bills at all--just chucked 'em into a bag, and called it a Second Reading.

First W. I. M. (condescendingly). That's how they used to do it about ten years ago; but they had to alter the whole thing after they got BRADLAUGH into the House.

Inquirer. Why was that?

First W. I. M. Well, he wouldn't take an oath, you know; so, after that, they altered everything.

Inquirer (with admiration). By Jove, what a chap you are for recollecting things!

A NEW POLL-TAX.--Would somebody inform me of the easiest way of getting into Parliament? I see that Members are soon going to be paid, and that would be very useful to me, as my present yearly expenses are L1,500, and my income barely L150. Had I better try as a "Labour Candidate"? I feel that I may claim the title, on account of the labour--twelve hours at least _per diem_--which I have to expend on getting out of the way of my creditors. I presume that, before long, there will be Parliaments all over the place, for England, Wales, and Scotland, as well as for Ireland, and I want to get into all! At least, I want to get into all where the excellent system of payment of Members is adopted, with salaries "On the higher scale," as they say in the Courts. It is curious that, when I explain to my creditors this most promising source of prospective income, they don't seem to see it! But creditors always were a purblind race.--WOULD-BE LEGISLATOR.

Und oop dere rose a Meer-maid Vot hadn't got nodings on. Und she say, "Oh, Witler BUNGO, Vhere you goes mit yourself alone?"

Und he says, "I rides mine high-horse, Mit helmet und mit shpeer, Till I gooms unto mine Gasthaus,[B] Vhere I sells goot wine und peer."

[B] Tavern, or Wine Shop.

Und den outspoke de Maiden Vot hadn't got nodings on: "I ton't dink mooch of beoplesh Dat cares for demselfs alone.

You'd petter coom down to de Wasser,-- 'Tis de pest trink ash you'll see,-- Und haf a wholesome tinner Mit Schlopp-Vash, along mit me."

"Dere you sees de fisch a-schwimmin! Und dere healthy efery one." So sang dis Wasser-Maiden, Vot hadn't got nodings on.

"Your shtrong tipplesh cost mooch money, Dere ish death in de trinks you've sold; Und you helps yourself, by doonder, To de Vorkmansh hard-earned gold.

"Shoost look at doze sodden wretches, Vhite schlafes of de Witler Rings! From dere 'trunks' you vill your pockets, Und you rob dem like efery dings.

"Vot dey vantsh mit your schnaps[C] und lager, Vitrioled gin and doctored wine? Smash your pottles, and preak your parrels, Und try dese Schlopps of mine!"

[C] Drams, drinks.

Vill dat fetch him! He standsh as shpellbound! She vould pool his coat-tails down. She von't draw him oonder der Wasser-- Dat Maiden mit nodings on!

"Thine be a cot beside a hill," Hums Mrs. HAWEIS in our ear; "Such cots are in the market still, At only thirty pounds a year.

The book keeps going