GAY DECEIVER

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXV, Issue 23009, 9 April 1938, Page 2 (Supplement)

GAY DECEIVER

Cockney Who Defrauds Farmers Hopes to Sing in Prison* Choir JAMES RUMBLE is in gaol again—for two long years. But he is not very concerned about his plight, states a London journal. He is a philosopher, crook and . humorist. His philosophy, " You can't keep a good man down"; his crookedness, principally horse swindles; his humour, unadulterated Cockney. .4 For him the world holds just two classes: fly birds " and " mugs." The mugs are his favourites, but he is not one of them.

EVERY detective in London knows Jim and all about his frauds on the farmers. They have "picked him up" time and again, but he carries no grudge. Ask Jim about his "record," and with a wide-eyed innocence he'll confess lie's lost count of the convictions. Actually they are 27. An Old Bailey jury lately found him guilty on a number of counts. Instantly and nonchalantly he invited the judge to take 17 other offences into considerj ation. Hence the two years. Gentle Art of "Chanting" Over and over again Jim Humble foisted on to 1 trusting farmers mares which he assured them were in foal. The average prico was £3O. In the honest world of horse dealing they have a name for the trick. It is called "chanting." And Jim Humble certainly knows how to "chant." "I can do it on me 'ead, guv-nor," ho boasted after the sentence. "Roll on next Sunday and the hallelujah service. You'll find me in the front row singing louder than all the rest. "An' the parson'll say to the guv-nor, 'That's a nice sincere sort of chap just come in. Let's 'ave 'im in the choir.' "An' sure as you're born, I'll be in the choir the Sunday arter, and in the library the next mornin'. "Priceless Humour" "See (he tapped a brown paper parcel under his arm), a couple o' books for luck and to kill the time. I'll present 'em to the library when I say

"Is 'e a worker?" I says. "The trouble with this 'ere 'orse, gur'nor,;i«, 'e don't know when to knock orf 1 "An' when 'e got into the station 'e fahnd the ole 'orse too lazy to climb orf the floor o' the 'orse box." Even in the Old Bailey his cockney wit did not desert him. "Me lord," he said, "You'd never sell 'em nuffink if yer told 'em the truf." Carrots for Smoked Salmon Out of prison and fighting shy bf the horse racket, Jim Used to stand behind a stall in Brixton market, bellowing above all others: — "Come on, lidies, everyfink cheap todye. And for why? 'Cos it's all 'S.G.,' you know, pinched aht o' the back door. That's why they'ro cheap. "'Urry up, lidies, there's a coupla bogeys (policemen) watching, and sure fing "they'll pinch me, and you'll lose yer bargains." Many are the similar stories of this man, who thought nothing of spending £IOO in entertaining his friends "up West" at night and selling tinned carrots for smoked salmon in the morning. It was a fraud similar to that which precipitated his introduction to the Old Bailey. "Coo, what a plice!" he cried in the dock. "Full of fieves. Fancy bringin 1 mo 'ere." Only once has the writer seen Jim anything but on top. of the world. That was after his latest conviction, when one of the victims of his swindle threatened "to punch him on the jaw" as he left No. 4 Court. Jim backed away quickly; and the man passed on. "Nah, why did 'e want to beh'ive like that?" asked Jim, aggrieved. " 'E's an expert, an' I'm just a Cockney. I don't know as much abaht 'orses as 'e does, an' there 'e goes an* gets annoyed!"

"This is just an ordinary case of kissing at sixty miles an hour." —Humorist

'Ta, ta.' Two years P Coo. Wot's two years ?" Jim Rumble's cockney is colourful and priceless. What a comedian if he hadn't been a "chanter." Waiting for the "Black Maria" and Pentonville he enlarged on a grievance of tho day. "Blimey, gov'nor, I arsts yer. Wot's crime a comin' too? "This morain' they shoved one of their oldest and best customers —that's yer 'umble Rumble —into No. 4 Court, which means nuffink in the papers about me, all becos them young beginners, them Mayfair blokes, made a mess of fings." Master Rumble is no respecter of persons, be they officials or plain citizens. He was once accosted in the street by a rather pompous police officer. Deal With Farmer Began the Law impressively: "I am Divisional Detective Inspector —, of Scotland Yard. I have here a warrant for your arrest." He followed with a recital of the customary caution, "anything you may say," etc., etc. Jim patiently listened to the familiar formula. Then pushing his hat to the back of his head, and sticking his thumbs into tho armholes of his waistcoat', he blandly asked: "An' wot do I do now, guv-nor? Drop dalin dead?" He recalls as one of his best moments an occasion when, convicted and sentenced in mid-summer, he was released into the snow of a January day. "Fink of it, guv'nor, snowing like anything, an' me walking' dahn the street in a light suit and straw 'at. Wot dy'er know abahat that?" There is another story of a deal with a farmer. "There I was sellin' 'im a norse an' a tellin' 'im 'ow it was too young for London streets, though it was 'twenty if it was a day, when 'e ups and arsts mo, 'ls 'e a worker?' "