AN AFTERPART À LA L. C. C.
As the L. C. C. have taken in hand the morals of the music halls, and shown an inclination to supersede the Lord Chamberlain, it may be as well to publish a rough sketch of a specimen scene from the afterpart of a pantomime for the guidance of theatrical managers desirous of standing well with the successors to the members of the Metropolitan Board of Works. The "opening" would, of course, be written by "a serious bard with a mission." No doubt the story would be told in a manner most productive to the manufacture of prigs. The transformation over, Clown, Pantaloon, Harlequin and Columbine would be discovered in a group.
Clown (in the conventional tone). Here we are again!
Bumble (representing the L. C. C.). Scarcely. Allow me to point out that in future you will be entirely different.
Clown (as before). Come along, old'un; let's make a butter slide.
Bumble. You must permit me to interpose. The Council cannot recognise any practical joke of the kind. If you wish to have the same sort of fun, pull up the streets in the most frequented thoroughfares in the metropolis—the Strand and Fleet Street for choice.
Clown (as before). Oh, here's a baby! Let's smash it!
Bumble. Please accept my advice. The Council do not object to the keeping down of babies in the abstract. But personal violence is contrary to the law. If you really wish to decrease the surplus population, why not work it to death at a board-school? It may be a slower process than throwing it over a lamp-post, but the incident will be truer to life, and therefore more convincing.
Clown (as before). Oh! old 'un, here's a peeler coming!