THE ART OF THE PUN.

Auckland Star, Volume LXXIII, Issue 37, 13 February 1937, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE ART OF THE PUN.

A CROP OF SUCCESSORS. FASHIONS IN HUMOUR. (By PEEETI.) The pun, described very unfairly as the lowest form of wit, went out of fashion with the late 'nineties. But it is not dead; it has not even slumbered. In a score of variants it has gone along rejoicing, and, like the man who spoke in prose without knowing it, millions who would profess irritation at the mere mention of the word pun use its misbegotten and shapeless offspring in the vain belief that they have said the last word in smartness. In one disguise or another the pun goes on its devastating way, and punsters who do not recognise themselves for what they are, are as guilty, if not as brilliant, as Tom Hood. Just now the up-to-date form in New Zealand is the "knock, knock, who's there?' , and then the punny answer. Benin in Baltimore, U.S.A., a year ago, the craze swept America, to die out as quickly as a prairie fire. But another epidemic of foolishness will break out and the smart Alecs of the villages will preen their feathers as they fall into the stock line and emit the gags of a million or so others. Before the knockknock the equally futile custom was to go around shouting "Where's Elmer," an abortive question which was first asked in Detroit when a convention delegate named Elmer "turned up missjnn;\™d his search was broadcast. Just before that the lads of the village were telling stories of little Audrey, who laughed merrily under all sorts of circumstances, until she began to turn a little too blue and was left out in th» cold to die. Before that again it was the "wisecrack" that led the parade, and every wisecrack was a pun of sorts, masquerading under an alias, but still a lineal descendant of the centuries old word-play. So were the "words and their titles" phantasy—or phantasmagoria—which swept round the world like a measles visitation in the 'twenties. "True Pun Needs No Defence." The ancestor of them all, the true nun still has power to charm when rHitlv and wittily used, and down the a°es there runs a succession of famous men who knew how. Greatest of them all perhaps, was Tom Hood, with Charles Lamb, Sydney Smith, Theodore Hood and George" Selwyn hard upon his heels There have been some smart punsters on the bench in Britain, too, Lord Mansfield and Lord Xorbury being among the raciest. Walter Jerrold a punster himself of no mean quality, defends the pun in "A Book of Famous Wi ts » "The true pun needs no more defence than any other work of art,' he says. "It is, of course, not the product of word twisting; it consists of the ready appreciation of the diverse significance of words, and may often be the feather of an arrow on which is carried the point of wit." The descent of the pun was a slow slide at first, but it speeded up under the influence of music hall and pantomime examples, many of which were so far fetched as to be almost disreputable. At the mercy of writers whose wit was far from sparkling, the pun lost its savour, and. cleared the way for the (subsequent nonsense crazes, each ot which has died an early death.

"Nelly Gray." Probablv the greatest punster of all time was Tom Hood whose puns in verse still have their power to amuse. lake the ballad of faithless Kelly Gray: Ben Battle was a soldier bold, And used to war's alarms; But a cannon ball took off his legs, So he laid,down liis arms. Now as thc.v bore him off the field, Said lie, '"Let others shoot; For here I leave my second leg. Ana the Forty-second Foot. Now Ben, he loved a pretty maid, Her name was Nelly Gray; So he went to pay her his devours, When he'd devoured his pay. But when he called on Nelly Gray, She made him quite a scoff; And when she saw his wooden legs, Began to take them off. "O, Nelly Gray! O, Nelly Gray! Is this your love so warm.' The love that loves a scarlet coat Should be more uniform. ♦ • » • "I wish re ne'er had seen your face But now a long farewell For you will be my death alas! You will not be my Nell." Byron was not above a bit of punning at times, as his epitaph on a carrier indicates: Here lies Tom Adams a carrier o£ SouthA carrier -who carried his can to his mouth He carried so much and he carried so .fast. He could carry no more, so was carried at For the 'liquor he drank, being too much' for one, He could not carry off, so is now carrion. 0. Henry.

0. Henry was an inveterate punster, and many of his smartest lines were pure puns. Take his "quid pro rata" for instance, which he gave in the form of a certificate for stock in a non-existent mine to the farmer on Broadway; or his tale of how the streets of Manhattan are beset with pitfalls and with gin. He used to tell of a couple of friends of his, Wood and Stone, who were standing in Broadway when a smartly attired •woman, with a very short skirt, passed by. Wood he said, turned to Stone, Stone turned to Wood, and they then both turned to rubber. Surnames are, of course, a great source of supply for the punster, as any Grave or Gay, Stern or Bright could tell you. The lives of many such are made a misery by the diurnal repetition of the same old wheezes. So reader, be merciful here. Theodore Hook was a master of that sort of tiling, but he did it with an air and a flair. Sitting at the piano he ■would improvise a whole series''of tunes while ho turned out impromptu punny verses about the rest of the company. One of the smartest of these concerned a Mr. Winter, who was a tax inspector. Unhesitatingly he told of him: Here comes Mr. Winter, inspector of taxes, I'd advise ye to give him whatever he axes; I'd advise ye to give him without any flummery, * For though his name's Winter his actions are summary. Wits were always bright in the theatrical profession, and some of the most long-lived of the puns were born in the greenroom. Snett, the famous Shakespearean actor, was one of the brightest. He came into his dressing room soaked by the rain one night. "Are you Snett?" inquired a man already in possession. "Egad sir, I think I'm dripping." he replied. Sir Herbert Tree thought of many bright sayings—perliaps the best when an interviewer who had made an appointment had been forestalled by an interviewer on the staff of a paper coming out earlier. Tree pointed to the evening paper reporter and said: "That.man has taken your bread out. of my mouth."