Mr. Punch's Cockney Humour, J. A. Hammerton [detective books to read .txt] 📗
- Author: J. A. Hammerton
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[cover]
MR. PUNCH'S COCKNEY HUMOUR
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE.
Some pages of this work have been moved from the original sequence to enable the contents to continue without interruption. The page numbering remains unaltered.
PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR Edited by J. A. Hammerton
Designed to provide in a series of volumes, each complete in itself, the cream of our national humour, contributed by the masters of comic draughtsmanship and the leading wits of the age to "Punch," from its beginning in 1841 to the present day
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One of Nature's Gallants.
Loafer (to fair occupant on her way to Court). "Ullo, Ethel! All alone?"
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MR. PUNCH'S COCKNEY HUMOURIN PICTURE AND STORY
WITH 133 ILLUSTRATIONS
BY
PHIL MAY, CHARLES KEENE,
L. RAVEN-HILL, TOM BROWNE,
C. SHEPPERSON, E. T. REED,
BERNARD PARTRIDGE, J. A. SHEPHERD,
G. D. ARMOUR, GEORGE DU MAURIER,
AND OTHERS.
PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH THE PROPRIETORS OF "PUNCH"
THE EDUCATIONAL BOOK CO. LTD.
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THE PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR Twenty-five volumes, crown 8vo. 192 pagesfully illustrated
LIFE IN LONDON
COUNTRY LIFE
IN THE HIGHLANDS
SCOTTISH HUMOUR
IRISH HUMOUR
COCKNEY HUMOUR
IN SOCIETY
AFTER DINNER STORIES
IN BOHEMIA
AT THE PLAY
MR. PUNCH AT HOME
ON THE CONTINONG
RAILWAY BOOK
AT THE SEASIDE
MR. PUNCH AFLOAT
IN THE HUNTING FIELD
MR. PUNCH ON TOUR
WITH ROD AND GUN
MR. PUNCH AWHEEL
BOOK OF SPORTS
GOLF STORIES
IN WIG AND GOWN
ON THE WARPATH
BOOK OF LOVE
WITH THE CHILDREN
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EDITOR'S NOTE
Cockney humour smacks, of course, of the town and makes up in smartness and shrewdness what it lacks in mellowness. The Cockney is as a rule a conscious humorist; you laugh with him very often, whereas you nearly always laugh at the rustic humorist.
George Du Maurier concerned himself a good deal with Cockney character, but he was not in sympathy with the Cockney; generally he had an obvious contempt for him, and most of his jokes turn on the dropped H, the mispronounced word, and educational deficiencies. He portrays some of the Cockney's superficial characteristics; he despises him too much to be able to get at the heart of him and reveal his character.
Take Phil May's pictures and jokes, and the difference is at once apparent. He was fully alive to the Cockney's deficiencies of manner and culture; now and then he quite genially and without the least touch of scorn or self-complacency makes fun of them; but he really gives you the Cockney character. Take, for instance, such a picture as his "Politics and Gallantry," his "I say, 'Arry, don't we look frights!" his "Informal Introduction"—(the self-consciousness of the girl's expression, and the blatant pride of the man's)—here, and in almost any of his drawings you turn to, you have the absolutely natural Cockney; his types are full of character and so true and free from condescension that not only are we moved irresistibly to laugh at them, but the Cockney himself would be the first to recognise their truth and to laugh joyously at them too. We may say pretty much the same of Charles Keene, of Mr. Raven-Hill, of Mr. Bernard Partridge, and of others of the "Punch" artists represented here, who illustrate the essential Cockney character, and do not go on the easy assumption that dropped H's and mispronounced words and aggressive vulgarity are the beginning and the end of it.
Cockney humour smacks, of course, of the town and makes up in smartness and shrewdness what it lacks in mellowness. The Cockney is as a rule a conscious humorist; you laugh with him very often, whereas you nearly always laugh at the rustic humorist.
George Du Maurier concerned himself a good deal with Cockney character, but he was not in sympathy with the Cockney; generally he had an obvious contempt for him, and most of his jokes turn on the dropped H, the mispronounced word, and educational deficiencies. He portrays some of the Cockney's superficial characteristics; he despises him too much to be able to get at the heart of him and reveal his character.
Take Phil May's pictures and jokes, and the difference is at once apparent. He was fully alive to the Cockney's deficiencies of manner and culture; now and then he quite genially and without the[Pg 6] least touch of scorn or self-complacency makes fun of them; but he really gives you the Cockney character. Take, for instance, such a picture as his "Politics and Gallantry," his "I say, 'Arry, don't we look frights!" his "Informal Introduction"—(the self-consciousness of the girl's expression, and the blatant pride of the man's)—here, and in almost any of his drawings you turn to, you have the absolutely natural Cockney; his types are full of character and so true and free from condescension that not only are we moved irresistibly to laugh at them, but the Cockney himself would be 
the first to recognise their truth and to laugh joyously at them too. We may say pretty much the same of Charles Keene, of Mr. Raven-Hill, of Mr. Bernard Partridge, and of others of the "Punch" artists represented here, who illustrate the essential Cockney character, and do not go on the easy assumption that dropped H's and mispronounced words and aggressive vulgarity are the beginning and the end of it.
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MR. PUNCH'S COCKNEY HUMOUR
"All's swell that ends swell," as 'Arry remarked when he purchased a pair of "misfits."
'Arry and 'Arriet's Favourite Italian Poet.—'Ariosto.
Mother Wit.—First Coster. I say, Bill, wot's the meanin' o' Congress?
Second Coster. A shee heel. Female of conger.
A Londoner's Rural Reflection.—The Hayfield is better than the Haymarket.
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'ARRY'S LAMENT"A public meeting was held at Hampstead last night to protest against the tampering with the Heath by tube railway promoters."—Daily Paper.
Wot! Toobs on 'appy 'Amstid?
A stytion at Jack Strors?
I 'old the sime a bloomin' shim
An' clean agin the lors,
Leastwyes it oughter be—
If lors wos mide by me
No toobs yer wouldn't see
On 'appy 'Amstid.
Wy, wheer are we ter go, Liz,
Ter git a breath of air?
Yer 'll set yer teeth agin the 'eath
When theer's a toob up there.
A pinky-yaller stytion
By wye o' deckyrytion—
I calls it desecrytion,
'Appy 'Amstid.
Oh! sive us 'appy 'Amstid!
It's Parrydise, you bet!
Theer ain't no smoke ter 'arm a bloke.
Nor yet no smuts as yet.
An' so I 'opes they 'll tell
This bloomin' Yanky swell
Ter send 'is toobs ter—well,
Not 'appy 'Amstid!
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THE WILD WILD EAST
First Coster. "Say, Bill, 'ow d'yer like my new kickseys? Good fit, eh?"
Second Coster. "Fit! They ain't no fit. They're a haper-plictick stroke!"
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NOTE BY A COCKNEY NATURALISTThe common blackbeetles (Scarabæus niger) which so abundantly infest the culinary regions of Cockaigne are alleged to be agreeable, although profuse, in flavour, provided they be delicately larded before crimping, and then fricasseed or simply fried. Care should specially be taken not to injure their antennæ, which, when crisp with egg and breadcrumbs, exquisitely tickle the palate of the gourmet, and provoke him to the liveliest of gastronomic feats. There lurks in vulgar minds a savage prejudice against these interesting insects, by reason, very likely, of the popular impression that at times they have been manufactured into Soy. But this may be assumed to be mere idle superstition, and Soyer, the great chef, wisely set his face against it, remarking, as he did so, "Honi Soy qui mal y pense."
Among the warblers which abound in the vicinity of the metropolis, one of the most interesting is the little mudlark (Alauda Greenwichiensis) whose plaintive cry may nightly be[Pg 12] heard upon the shore of the river, where these little creatures congregate in flocks, and pick up any grub which they may chance to meet with.
Doubts have been entertained by sundry Cockney naturalists whether the pyramids of oyster shells, which in the early part of August used to be noticed in the streets, should be regarded as a proof of the migratory habits of the mollusc. That the oyster is a sluggard and objects to leave his bed seems pretty generally admitted; but that he is endowed with the power of locomotion has, fortunately for science, been placed beyond a doubt. Whether oysters shed their shells when they are crossed in love is a point on which the naturalist is still somewhat in the dark.
Self-evident.—It must have been a cockney who said that St. Bees came from St. 'Ives.
A Dead Letter.—Too often H.
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"I say, Bill, 'ere comes two champion doners! Let's kid 'em 'at we're hofficers!"
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Epsom up to Date.
'Arry. "Ain't ye comin' to see the 'orse run for yer money?"
Cholley. "Not me! No bloomin' fear! I'm goin' to see this cove don't run with my money!"
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ROYAL ALBERT HALL TO DAY
"I 'ear this 'ere Patti ain't 'arf bad!"
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"Would you gentlemen like to look at the old church?"
"Ho, yus. We're nuts on old churches!"
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Quoth an eminent literary man, in the hearing of 'Arry, "All George Meredith's poetry might be republished under one title as 'Our Georgics.'"
"Oo's ''Icks'?" asked 'Arry.
"The Teaching of Erse in Ireland."—"Well," says 'Arry, "it sounds uncommon funereal. O' course I knew an erse and plumes and coal black 'osses is what they call a 'moral lesson.' But why make such a fuss about it in Ireland?"
An Awkward Name.—'Arry, on a marine excursion, hearing mention made of the two sea-birds the great auk and the little auk, inquired if the little auk was a sparrow-'awk.
"He is the greatest liar on (H)earth," as the Cockney said of the lap-dog he often saw lying before the fire.
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The Vernacular.
"Yer know that young Germin feller as come ter sty in our 'ouse six months agow? Well, w'en fust 'e come, I give yer my word'e didn' know nothink but 'is own lengwidge; but we bin learnin' 'im English, an' now e' can speak it puffick—jes' the sime as wot you an' me can."
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Dinner for the H-less. Good Educational Course for an Uneducated Cockney.—An aitch-bone.
Cockneys at Aldershot.—First Cockney. "'Ere, 'Arry, where's the colonel?"
Second Cockney. "The colonel, bless yer, 'e's in an 'ut."
Household Note.—(By a Cockney). What to do with cold mutton. Heat it.
Cockney Conundrum.—Wot lake in Hengland's got the glassiest buzzum?
Windermere.
For Cives Romani.—The way to 'Ampton races?—The 'Appy 'Un (Appian) of course.
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'Bus Conductor. "Emmersmith! Emmersmith! 'Ere ye are Emmersmith!"
Liza Ann. "Oo er yer callin' Emmer Smith? Sorcy 'ound!"
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Poor Letter "A."
"Do you sell type?"—"Type, sir? No, sir. This is an ironmonger's. You'll find type at the linendryper's over the w'y!"
"I don't mean tape, man! Type, for printing!"
"Oh, toype yer mean! I beg yer pardon, sir!"
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