Public-domain ebook
Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 108, May 18th, 1895
by Various
Language: en304 downloads on Project Gutenberg
Subjects
In: Poetry·Humour·Plays/Films/Dramas
Public-domain ebook sourced from Project Gutenberg #44790.
The opening · free to read
Private Secretary. I think not. You will find that I have worked out the answers to to-day's questions--the list is not a very heavy one, only a couple of dozen queries or thereabouts.
Rt. Hon. Gent. That's right. Such a lot of time is wasted in that sort of thing. And has anyone come for me?
Priv. Sec. No one of importance. A fellow with a new invention or something of that sort. Said you were extremely busy just now, but that if he would write, his letter would receive the attention of the department.
Rt. Hon. Gent. Was he satisfied?
Priv. Sec. (smiling). Well, I fear not entirely. I think he must have had some experience of Government offices. He said he preferred to see you personally.
Rt. Hon. Gent. (amused). I daresay he would. Anyone else?
Priv. Sec. Only a man about advertisements.
Rt. Hon. Gent. (aghast). You did not send him away?
Priv. Sec. Well, no. I believe he is still in the waiting-room. But surely you don't want to see him?
Rt. Hon. Gent. Of course I do. A most important person. Send a messenger for him at once. (Exit Private Secretary.) That's the worst of TENTERFORE--so impulsive! Means well, but so very impulsive! (Knock.) Ah, here comes my visitor. (Enter stranger.) My very dear Sir, I am delighted to see you. (He shakes hands warmly and provides him with an arm-chair.) I am sorry you should have been detained--quite a mistake.
Stranger (surprised). You are most kind. I come about some advertisements.
Rt. Hon. Gent. I know, my dear Sir, I know. Now what can I tempt you with? You arrive at a most fortunate moment. We are thinking of letting the sides of our cruisers for posters. The Mediterranean fleet will be a most excellent medium. We can do sixteen double crowns at a very reasonable rate; of course the Admiral's flag-ship would be a trifle extra. Is your leading article soap, pickles, or hair-dye?
Stranger. I am afraid you do not understand me.
Rt. Hon. Gent. Oh yes, I do; but, if you object to marine advertisements, I think we can suit you on land. We have several commanding positions on the colours of some of the most popular regiments in the service vacant. (Showing plans.) You see we can insert type--we object to blocks--on the material without interfering with the badges or the victories. A most admirable medium, I assure you.
Stranger. You really are in error. I wish to say----
Rt. Hon. Gent. (interrupting). Yes, I know. You think that something would be better. Well, we can put advertisements on the backs of all petitions presented to Parliament, and let you out hoardings in front of the more prominent of the Government offices. How would that suit you?
Stranger. Really, you must allow me to explain. Advertisements of matters interesting to mariners--such as notices of wrecks--are inserted solely in the London Gazette and----
Rt. Hon. Gent. Ah, you are thinking of the sky signs. Well, of course, we might utilise the lighthouses, but we have not quite made up our minds whether such a course might not cause confusion in misty weather.
Stranger. I was going to propose that the Government might feel inclined to insert the advertisements to which I have referred in a paper with which I am connected, and which is extensively circulated amongst seafaring men.
Rt. Hon. Gent. (astounded). You want me to give you an advertisement! No, Sir; now that we have taken up advertisements we insert them and don't give them out. (Enter Private Secretary.) Mr. TENTERFORE, be so good as to explain to this gentleman that my time is valuable.
[_Scene closes in upon the_ Secretary of State performing the now rather miscellaneous duties appertaining to his office.
BRIEF STAY IN LONDON OF THE EMINENT FRENCH NOVELIST.--He has not quite mastered our idioms, but he has made a pun in English, when saying, "_J'y suis, moi, Daudet; je pars demain_," i.e., "I am here Do-day, and gone to-morrow."
SUGGESTION.--"_The Attaree Khat Tea Co._" is a nice name. Why not follow with the "_Attaree Khat and Kitten Milk Co._"? Very attaree-active to some pussons.
MOTTO (ADDRESSED TO FLUTES, HAUTBOYS, &C.) FOR CONDUCTOR OF THE STRAUSS ORCHESTRA.--"STRAUSS shows how the wind is to blow."
"INFANT PHENOMENON!"--At Drury Lane, the arduous part of Don Cæsar in the opera of Maritana was last Friday played by a CHILD!
Snobbington. "SORRY TO SAY I CAN'T, OLD CHAPPIE. AFRAID I'VE GO TO GO AND DINE WITH THAT OLD FOOL, LORD BOREHAM, FOR MY SINS!"
Lord Boreham (from behind his Newspaper). "PRAY CONSIDER YOURSELF EXCUSED THIS EVENING, MR.----MR.----A--I FIND I DON'T EVEN KNOW YOU BY SIGHT!"
Dear CHARLIE,--'Ow are you, old shipmate? I've bin layin' low for a time. 'Ard years these 'ere Nineties, my nibs, yus, and bizness 'as bin fur from prime. All grind and no gay galoot, CHARLIE, of late 'as bin my little lot; An' between you and me and the post, I think most things is going to pot!
It's Newness wot's doing it, CHARLIE! "Lor! that's a rum gospel," sez you. Well, p'raps in your green tooral-looral you don't hear so much of the New; But in town with New Art, and New Women, New Drammer, New Humour, and such, There seems nothink old left in creation, save four-arf, and DANNEL'S old Dutch.
She's old, and no hapricots, CHARLIE. But DANNEL'S a decentish sort, And the way as she lays down the law about up-to-date woman is sport. 'Er nutcrackers clitter and clatter; and when she is fair on the shout, Concernin' fresh feminine fashions, you bet it's a reglar knock-out!
I took LIL, DANNEL'S youngest, larst week to the play, with some tickets I'd got. Well, paperers mustn't be choosers. But oh, mate, of all the dashed rot They ever chucked over the footlights, this 'ere Probblem Play wos the wust! It left me with brain discumfuddled, the blues, and a thundering thust.
It gave poor LIL 'ARRIS the 'orrors. "Lor, 'ARRY," she sez, coming out, "They've styged it, no doubt, tol-lol-poppish, but wot is the 'ole thing about? I feel just as creepy and 'oller, along o' these 'ere warmed-up ghosts, As if I'd bin dining on spiders. Eugh! Let's 'ave a glarss at 'The Posts.'"
It took two 'ot tiddleys to warm 'er. An' when I was blowin' a cloud A-top o' the tram going 'ome, she sez, "'ARRY," sez she, "_I_ ain't proud, But don't tyke me never no more to no New Woman nonsense," sez she. "It's narsty; and not one good snivel or larf in the whole jamboree.
"I don't call them people, I don't." "No; they're probblems, Lil, that's wot they are. She-probblem a tearin' 'er 'air, whilst the he-probblem sucks 'is cigar; Two gurl-probblems sniffing at Marriage, that played-out old farce--at sixteen!-- I thought we was fair up-to-date, Lil, but, bless yer, we're simply pea-green!"
And when we arrived at Lamb's Conduit Street, old DANNEL 'ARRIS'S shop, His old Dutch got fair on the grind, and when started she's orkud to stop. "New Woman?" sez she. "_She_'s no clarss, LIL, and don't know a mite where she are. Yah! We used to call 'em Old Cats; and a sootabler name, too, by far.
"There ain't nothink new in their Newness; it's only old garbige warmed up. Mere bubble-and-squeak. The stale taters and greens on which poor people sup Is 'olesome compared with sich offal. Yah! Weddings'll outlast that lot; And while gals is gals the old Eve'll jest make the new evil seem rot."
The jawsome old guffin wos right, Charlie; leastways, she wosn't fur out. Yer female footballers and bikers, as swagger and go on the shout, And spile a good sport and their hancles, are not more complete off the track Than them as "revolt"--agin Nature, and cock their she-bokos--at fack!
All splutter-sludge, CHARLIE! On styge or on cinder-path, sillypop things As want to play Man and be Woman are trying to fly without wings, Or fight without fistes. Are Men, the world's masters--like you, mate, and Me-- To be knocked out by probblems in petticoats? Wot bloomin' fiddle-de-dee!
The Old Dutch, and young LIL, and myself are all much of a mind on this job. Old 'ARRIS sez men are not in it. He don't mean it, I'll bet a bob. It ain't very likely, not now, that Yours Scrumptiously ever will marry; But if I should tyke a Old Woman, it won't be no New Woman!
'ARRY.
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