Puppets at Large: Scenes and Subjects from Mr Punch's Show

Second P. (sympathetically). Well, and that makes suthin' to look forward to, don't it, when he does git let out. Talkin' o' that, you've known 'im longer 'n what I 'ave. Do you 'appen to know what it was as he got inter trouble for?

First P. (with the consciousness of superior delicacy). Lor' bless yer, I never thought o' arskin' 'im the question.

Second P. (with feeble self-assertion under this implied rebuke). Well, it all depends on 'ow yer put a question o' that sort.

    [He is silent for the remainder of the journey.

A Chatty Passenger (to a Contradictious Passenger, as the 'bus passes Trafalgar Square). Pretty these 'ere fountains look, with the water playin', don't they?

The Contradicious Passenger. The fountings are well enough, if it wasn't fur the water – norsty messy stuff, I call it.

The Chatty P. (abandoning the fountains). It's wonderful what an amount o' traffic there is in the Strand, ain't it?

Contrad. P. Nothink to what it was forty years ago!

    [His neighbour, not feeling in a position to deny it, subsides.

The Driver (to a Passenger with a Badge, immediately behind him). 'Ow is it you're orf yer keb to-day, Bob? Taking a day orf, or what?

The Passenger with a Badge. Not much. Goin' up to Bow Street to gimmy evidence in a collision case – that's all.

Driver (dubiously). Bow Street! Ain't that rorther shovin' yer 'ed in the lion's mouth, eh?

The P. with a B. (with virtuous serenity). Not it! What ha' they got agen me all the time I bin licensed? Only three drunks and a loiter!

The Chatty P. (returning to the charge). Orful state the roads are in with all this mud! I s'pose that's the London County Council, eh?

The Contrad. P. London Kayounty Kayouncil! No, it ain't – nothink o' the sort! I'll tell yer 'oo it is, if yer want to know; it's Gladstone!

The Chatty P. (mildly surprised, but glad to have discovered common ground). I see you're a Conservative – like myself.

The Contrad. P. That's jest where you're wrong! I ain't no Conservative, nor yet I don't want none o' Gladstone neither. I'm a Radikil, I am. John Burns and Ben Tillett – that's my lot!

The Chatty P. (reluctantly relinquishing politics). Ah, well, every man's got a right to form his own opinions, ain't he?

The Contrad. P. No, he ain't– not if he goes and forms wrong 'uns! (A pause.) 'Ave yer got the time about yer?

The Chatty P. (accepting this as a sign of softening). I'm sorry to say I come out without my watch this morning, or else – But there's plenty o' clocks about as'll tell yer.

The Contrad. P. (with intense disdain). Clocks! You don't ketch me trusting no clocks – with no two of 'em alike!

The Chatty P. (as they pass a well-known watchmaker's). Well, 'ow about that clock with the figgers? Won't that do yer? They set it to Grinnidge time every hour, so it's bound to be right!

The Contrad. P. (as descends). There yer are! Think I'd put my faith in a clock as 'as to be set right every hour? 'Tain't likely! Good-day to yer!

The Chatty P. So long! (To himself.) A pleasant feller enough, I dessay, if you leave the subjec' to 'im!

Driver (to smart Hansom Cabman). Now then, outer the way with that 'ere 'Ackney keb o' yours!

Hansom Cabman (with hauteur). As it 'appens, it ain't a 'Ackney cab – it's a private kerridge, this is!

Driver. Ah, I might ha' known you was a hammytoor by yer silly hasslike method o' conducting yer business! [Drives on triumphant.

A Political Passenger (with a panacea – to a "Knowledgable" Passenger). No, I don't want no 'Ome Rule, nor yet no Parish Counsels, nor nothink o' that. What I wanter see interdooced 'ere is Tereenial Porliments.

The Knowledgable Passenger (with respect). Tereenial Parliments? I don't know as I've 'eard o' them.

The Pol. P. Ain't yer? Well, they're what we want. Why, they've 'ad 'em in America, they've ad 'em in Ostralia, they've 'ad 'em in Orstria; and everywhere, mind yer, everywhere they've been in operation they've turned out a success!

The Kn. P. Then it's 'igh time we 'ad 'em. What is it they're called, again?

The Pol. P. Tee-reen-ial Porliments. It stands to reason they work well. There they are, a settin' eight months in the year fur seven year on end – somethink's bound to come of it! I'd like to see any o' our lot settin' like that! It's a pity we don't take more pattern by America in our law-makin'.

The Kn. P. Except in our criminal law. Why, I've 'eard there's States out there where a man may go and commit a crime, d'ye see, and once he gits across the boundary from one State into another – like as it might be a line across this 'ere street like, d'ye see – once he's over that, they can't do nothink to 'im!

The Pol. P. (thoughtfully). Ah, that wouldn't never do 'ere, that wouldn't!

    [The Conductor comes up to collect fares.

Conductor (to a Sleepy Passenger in a corner). Now then, fare, please?

The Sleepy Passenger (with manly regret). I ain't gorrit, ole pal. If yer'd asht me jes' two minutes afore I gorrup, I could ha' done it for yer, but I took jes' anorrer glash an' blued th' lot. No man can say I don' part s'long's I gorrer money; no freehandeder man anywheresh'n wharri am; but yer come on me too late. (Shaking his head reproachfully.) Thash where 'tis, yer come on me too late!

Cond. 'Ere, I ain't goin' to stand no nonsense! If yer 'aven't got the money, git down orf o' my bus, and quick, too!

The Sl. P. Ged down? An' quick! You wouldn' tor' li' that if you'd sheen wharrer bloomin' 'ard job I 'ad to get up! [He resumes his slumber.

Cond. (passing on, softened). I can't go and break the beggar's neck for tuppence, and he's got it somewhere about him, as likely as not. (To a Litigious Passenger.) Tuppence is the fare, Sir, if you please.

The Litigious Passenger. One penny is the legal fare, and all I intend to pay. I know the law!

Cond. And so do I. It's wrote up tuppence inside the bus. If yer ain't going to pay more, yer'd better git down; ye've 'ad over your penn'orth a'ready!

The Litig. P. (with spirit). I decline to get down. I insist on being taken to the Bank for my penny.

Cond. Oh, do yer? We'll see about that.

    [He stops the 'bus and calls a Constable, to whom he briefly explains the situation.

Constable (pacifically, from below, to the Litig. P.). Come, Sir, don't block the traffic, like this 'ere! Either pay the man his fare or get down – one of the two.

The Litig. P. (from the roof). I have a legal right to remain here if I like!

Const. That may be, Sir; but if you do, this man can summons you that's all.

The Litig. P. (warming with the joy of battle). That's just what I want him to do! Can't I make him summon me?

Cond. (disgusted). 'Ere, 'ang it all! do yer think I'm goin' to cart you 'arf over London fur a penny, and throw yer in the luxury of a lawsoot? 'Ere's yer penny back, and I give yer the ride free, there!