Long out of fashion this is an authentic joke out of the archive. The world of humour has moved not only because of political correctness but also because there are so many more ethnic targets. I can remember a time when something was which didn’t sound right was called Irish.
This is not as ‘finished’ as most of the cartoons that I have selected. Here the kitchen furnishings and utensils are only sketchily indicated. This enables us to focus on the two women. The cook clearly feels her years and is seated heavily while at work. We are shown her swollen ankles. By contrast Mary is a sturdy young woman whose ankles are trim. She is standing up while perusing the newspaper and her posture is almost athletic.
Although Irish independence had been granted in 1922 many Irish workers like Mary continued to come over for jobs in Britain because there were not nearly enough opportunities back home. In the years leading up to 2008 this trend had been reversed though now unfortunately jobs are not that plentiful on both sides of the Irish Sea.
It was assumed that the readers of Punch could be expected to know that the modiste is telling the would-be customer, who is petite in neither height nor girth, that she doesn’t have an economical figure. I don’t suppose a modern cartoonist would feel able to make that assumption.
French was still the official language of international diplomacy. I may be wrong but I have this persistent memory that my first passport contained text written in French as well as in English. This would have applied to the title page which stated ‘We, Ernest Bevin, His Britannic Majesty’s Principal Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs requests and requires in the name of His Majesty …’
Now there is certainly no French version and the Secretary of State is no longer named. These words still have a splendid ring to them putting one in mind of mid Nineteenth Century gunboat diplomacy but the reality is now much more mundane. Not so much of the requiring more a case of ‘could you help out if it isn’t too much trouble, old chap.’
This scene seems to conform to a long-standing tradition. We have some well-known examples of this type today.
There is to us something quite surprising in the way that the journalist is depicted while sheltering from the outburst. He looks genuinely afraid with his spectacles and thinning hair. This is not the way that we visualise the journalists of today.
The young man nonchalantly leaning against the table is called the film star’s secretary. That is not a word that we would apply to his function today. I suppose we would expect him to be called her manager now. At some stage since 1932 secretaries began to be thought of as female.
In the Nineteenth Century important people had secretaries who were always young men. A much more exalted use of the word can be found in the title given to members of the Cabinet as Secretary of State. Sir Humphrey was the Permanent Secretary (who nowadays may also be a Dame Helen).
How could the purchase of a hat manage to annoy the neighbours? It clearly isn’t the fact that this customer has bought a new hat at all whereas they haven’t because that wouldn’t make it difficult to choose between the concoctions that are on offer.
Too frivolous, perhaps? Too outrageous for their taste? More in line with the current fashion than those worn by any of the neighbours? More obviously expensive?
We shall never know but it is exercising the mind of this shopper and (with a different ambition) the long-suffering sales assistant.
This little man clearly thinks the world revolves round him (and his top hat). This was still a time of great deference and there would have been no one around to puncture his feeling of self-importance though Punch was quite ready to do so to the medical profession in general.
He does not look at all pleased to find himself being questioned in this way by his former patient. No doubt both daily visits were itemised when he sent in his account – in guineas, of course.
This cartoonist here is the same as the one who produced the Irish joke we looked at a few days ago. The style is unmistakable. In both we see that the focus is on ordinary people – not the kind who would be reading Punch. It is only poking gentle fun at them.
There is a rich seam of jokes in which someone is getting tired of being asked the same question when the answer is blindingly obvious. I remember a joke which is at least 60 years old:
A yeoman warder is on duty at the Tower of London. When asked towards the end of the day which is the Bloody Tower he replies, “All of it madam, all of it.”
This joke is presented in an elaborate drawing. The location may not actually be the Ritz but is clearly of a similar provenance.
The point of the humour is that during the Depression people are now compelled to make economies even though they are frequenting this exclusive locale. The pair on the left are comparing the simple fare (beer probably) that they are drinking with the champagne being consumed by the threesome on the right. The waiter in the centre of the drawing is eyeing the trio with suspicion.
The obvious conclusion, as identified by the man on the left, is that they are spending the taxpayer’s money, not their own. This assertion is confirmed for us by the intense way that all three are watching the dance floor. They are out to catch some notorious criminal and think that they are mingling with the crowd. To do that successfully they should have ordered beer too.
1932: Conspicuous Consumption in Spite of the Depression
The visitor is preening herself in her new fur coat in front of her hostess. The maid, who has just shown her in, is still getting a peek at it too. The cost would be a particularly important issue at the time. Yet John has managed (just!) to find the money despite the current difficulties.
We need to remember that killing animals simply for their skins was not then thought to be wrong. We think of mink as having been highly prized though a Google search has confirmed that skunk was highly thought of at that time.
I fear that Eric will be in deep trouble when he gets home. Mrs M. certainly was at much the same age as Eric only 10 years after the drawing appeared in Punch. Her ‘crime’ was much the same as Eric’s misdemeanour.
We can easily see why the young lady is unenthusiastic about her recently announced engagement. In fact she realises that she has won two booby prizes, not just one. To know why she has consented to this unsatisfactory match we need to know a little about the demographics of the early 1930s.
The official tally of British combatants, who lost their lives in the Great War, as it was then called, was 886,939 out of a population of roughly 45 million. The resulting imbalance between the sexes was most acute for her age group leaving a gaping hole in the ranks of eligible suitors. She has clearly decided to settle for second (or is it third?) best. She knows that she deserves someone better but has decided to make the best of a bad job. Her coded message is not likely to have been understood.
Yet all need not have been lost. A mere seven years later World War Two broke out. In spite of the bombings, the rationing and general austerity life for women like her could become much more purposeful and meaningful. She would certainly meet many more men than she had at the club among whom could be some of the many Allied servicemen who were to come to Britain. That she and a potential partner were already married would then not need to be an insurmountable obstacle. The divorce rate shot up during and just after that war.
Re. ‘The Language of Diplomacy’ (82). Being a great fan of Agatha Christie’s works, especially those of the thirties, I had wondered why she was so fond of using the French language in so many of her books, thanks for that helpful information Mr. Magoo.
It’s a long time since I read anything by AG. Even so I’m not sure she would have used French because of the diplomatic issue. I can think of two reasons:
Upper middle class people would have known French and be quite keen to show off this knowledge.
The would-be employer is talking about experience of being ‘in service’. The young woman has amorous experience in mind and she doesn’t mean just holding hands in the back row of the cinema. Such frankness could not have appeared in Punch a generation earlier but by 1932 it is no longer remarkable.
There are quite a few jokes about burglars in the pages of Punch suggesting that being burgled was quite a common experience during the Great Depression. These cartoons always have some sort of interaction between the burglars and their victims. Modern burglars tend to avoid such encounters preferring to enter houses when the owners are out or asleep. It is quite possible that was also the case in 1932 but the cartoonists prefer to invent such encounters for their comic possibilities.
I don’t imagine that the cartoonist wanted us to think that this conversation would actually take place during the course of a burglary. The joke is based on its complete unlikelihood.
This cartoon is full of incidental information. We are given a complete picture as well as the joke itself. Over a period of time the majority of cartoons have moved over to a style where it is only the essential aspects of the joke that appear and the other background information has been left out. This cartoon clearly does not belong to this newer trend.
I do wonder about the masks being worn by the two intruders. Would real burglars have worn them? Possibly the idea is to avoid recognition if the victim should ever come across them in an identity parade in a police station. It may just be slightly more subtle than depicting them with striped jerseys carrying a sack with the word ‘SWAG’ written on the side.
I also notice how well dressed the two are by modern standards. They are each wearing a three-piece suit. Bert is wearing a cloth cap and muffler and his mate is wearing a hat and a tie. Are we to assume that Bert is the junior criminal? I wouldn’t think so. It is Bert who has made the decision about the tip. The difference is probably merely intended to create variety in the picture.
Bert is stowing the family silver into a Gladstone bag and they will need to try to avoid being stopped by a policeman. They also need to remember to remove the masks when they leave the house.
The ‘old toff’ is red in the face from the strain of trying to free himself from the ropes tying him to
1932: The Woman Who Vamped the Judge at the Dog Show
The artist here is the famous H.M Bateman who is renowned for his ‘The Man Who…’ series. A typical example would be ‘The Naval Sub Lieutenant who Beat the Admiral at Chess’.
Unlike yesterday’s cartoonist Bateman’s style is very much part of the new standard where there is no attempt to draw a ‘complete’ picture. His clean simple lines with hardly any resort to shading are characteristic of this more modern style.
This is a rare instance of a woman being the main character of a Bateman cartoon. Having briefly groomed the animal she spends a great deal more time grooming herself. Her competitors have not devoted any care to their appearance. She is instantly rewarded for her initiative. As soon as she appears the judge no longer looks at the dogs but is captivated by just one owner. He instantly awards her the prize without even bothering to look at her dog and she stretches out to accept the prize while her dog dangles at the end of its lead.
The losing four women are furious and one of them even kicks her own dog in her rage.
It is half time. The game being played is obviously rugby football. Note the goalpost on the right and also that the spectators standing on duckboards are all toffs. (At that time gentlemen played rugger and oicks played soccer.) The woman talking to Mr Stark is really stupid to imagine that there is any kind of equivalence in her husband’s game and that that of Mr Stark. The husband is a pompous overweight and pampered little businessman and Mr Stark is fit and a much younger man. No doubt the readers of Punch could have seen all that in a glance and chuckled at the absurd pretensions of the woman.
Stark looks understandably unimpressed by what he is hearing. He isn’t going to tell not to be so silly though that may well be what he is thinking. I just wonder if he is in some way beholden to the woman and her husband. Could the woman’s husband have been a director in the business that employed Mr Stark? In which case I would expect the ‘invitation’ to be accepted and Stark would be well advised to lose that game.
I have been surprised when looking at the footwear of the two main spectators. We are looking at spats again! I am not at all surprised to see that the husband is wearing them. But the wife has also got spats over her high-heeled shoes. I had previously thought that these garments were a male preserve but that clearly was not the case.
There are spats galore here in what looks very much like a gentlemen’s club. It is only the best-dressed man present who isn’t wearing the wretched things. But the big question is why doesn’t he want his tailor to know where he lives?
For the life of me I can’t think of any reason other than that he owes the tailor money and is unwilling or unable to pay him. If there are any other possible reasons I’d like to know what they are.
How has it come about that the tailor doesn’t already know? I can’t imagine that he could have got possession of the suit without an account having been opened for him at the tailor’s back office. There his address would have been recorded. There I suppose the suit had been sent and, in due course, the bill. I am forced to think that this man has moved away from that address in order to avoid paying for this and perhaps various other purchases.
My difficulty with this theory is to ask how could this scene have appeared in a Punch cartoon? Would it really be suggesting that it is normal for a gentleman to behave in this way? Or is the answer perhaps that this man with such apparent good taste is not really a gentleman after all?
I still have another problem with this cartoon. The man asking about the first class tailor has his hands in his trouser pockets. In several previously considered jokes this practice has been seen as a code for a man who isn’t a proper gentleman like the man who had paid for his Tudor house. Yet here we see him behaving in this ‘caddish’ manner and the man lighting his cigarette has one hand in the pocket of his double-breasted suit. What is going on here?
One possibility is that the cartoonist is referring to an apparently well-known rule that in a gentlemen’s club this behaviour is not only acceptable but perhaps considered normal. The other possibility is that this is not a proper club but one which tries to ape the real thing. Neither of these options is particularly compelling but of the two I prefer the first.
