Categories
1950-1999 Ephemera Games

Funny Bones, 1968

For my birthday treat a few weeks ago, me and my husband went on a very rare kid-free trip to Heston Blumenthal’s Hinds Head pub to try a special menu – truffled beef stew as devised by Heston for Tim Peake on the International Space Station. The intense meaty, tarragonned stew was beautiful, of course, especially so as it was a menu only available if you wrote in to Channel 4 and were lucky enough to receive a special code after the Heston’s Dinner in Space programme a few months ago. The star of the show, however, was the Sweet Shop cocktail – a heady mix of “skittle-washed vodka”, frothed marshmallow, fruits and popping candy, with a wave of candy floss on top. It sounds far too sweet to be appealing, but it was perfect, like a kind of magical strawberry juice.

sweet shop

We stayed in Maidenhead for the night, and I fell in love with the place – not least because of the unfeasible amount of charity shops selling vintage books that we found, and the very friendly shop keepers within them. We were so keen on the fascinating stock in one shop that the lady behind the counter jokingly offered us a “lock-in”, which sounds like heaven to me. The fact that I loved Maidenhead so much funnily enough feels like a crumb of comfort to me in the current political situation – our new Prime Minister Theresa May is its MP.

We came home with heavy armfuls of new books on the train, and this game, Funny Bones, which was worth its price of £1 just to have a look inside the box at the glorious 60s graphics on the cards.

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Brought out the year after Twister, this was intended as a version of that game as played with cards and teams of two partners. The cards themselves need to be held between the two body parts shown on the cards.

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And this is how you play it:
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=ZNKqTybDCU8

I’d never heard of it, and was amused to see the none-more-60s description of where this game could be played – not only at birthday parties but also at “Adult Happenings”. “Happenings” always has an orgy vibe about it but it sounded to me like some marketing man trying to get hip with the kids.

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A few of the cards, though…..they could be interpreted with a raised eyebrow.

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And….well, it turns out that this undercurrent was actually a little more *finger bone on the nose bone* than I first thought. Marvin Glass, the creator of the game, seemed to be two parts the Willy Wonka of games, and one part Hugh Hefner. Twister was denounced by some critics of the permissive society as “sex in a box”, and it looks like Marvin Glass had at least one eye on this market too. Here an excellent blog post describes the career and inventions of the man behind an array of classic toys – including SIMON, the Evel Knievel Stunt Cycle and Mousetrap. Here’s the man himself demonstrating his new invention, the toy hypodermic needle, the Hypo-Phony:

hypo

But it was reading about his feature spread in Playboy magazine that most tickled my funny bone. Titled unambiguously “A Playboy Pad: Swinging In Suburbia”, here are the post watershed “fun and games” Marvin was working on.

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You can see why Playboy were interested, this “pad” was up to the zeitgeist in 60s party terms. He had a “walk-in wet bar”, whatever that is, hi-fi controls built into a marble table, “a grand piano and microphones….awaiting the show-business personalities that invariably attend”, Picasso and Dali pictures on the walls, and a swimming pool.

It makes me think of a Hammer Horror porn film. I have a strange feeling of unease looking at these pictures. Go up the red-lit stairs:

stairso

To the bedroom:

mastero

And then hang out in the huge jacuzzi:

bubbleso

The best thing is, it depicts people actually playing Funny Bones at this “happening”.

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I guess this was the kind of thing Monty Python was talking about – it breaks the ice at naughty parties.

In those halcyon days of early June, I suspected not that the purchase of this little game would bring me a blog post featuring the International Space Station, Theresa May, 1960s orgies and the game SIMON, but in this post-Brexit hinterland suddenly anything seems possible.

Categories
1900-1949 Ephemera War

(Grand) Dad’s Army, 1939

I love it when I can link something from one of my old books or pieces of ephemera to some current story. This one is all about Dad’s Army, new and old. You might have seen the trailer for the new film recently. Here it is.

 

Despite being a history buff, I never much liked Dad’s Army when I first saw it on TV as a teenager. It wasn’t my sort of humour, I thought, although then as now I still had a massive affection for Clive Dunn – or “Grandad” as I always thought of him. Here he is, singing his famous song – and I really can’t believe that at this point, he was a mere 51 years of age:

 

 

Watching the series later on though, I appreciated it a lot more. The writing, the performances – it was a class act. My first thought when hearing about the new film was a big “Why?” and it still is, really. But….what a cast! Toby Young, Bill Nighy and Michael Gambon are enough to make me put the film on my must-see list, when it comes out next February.

And this is where my (real) Grandad comes in. I’ve blogged quite a bit about his wartime experiences and ephemera but I haven’t posted this piece up before. It’s the menu and programme for the British Army Public Relations Christmas Party, 1939. As my Grandad was an official driver for Richard Dimbleby, he came into contact with such journalistic-type events. There is no information on where this meal was actually held, and I haven’t been able to find out more online, but I presume it was somewhere near the Maginot Line as that was where Grandad and the British Expeditionary Force were at that time.

The menu is rather impressive, or at least maybe it sounds more impressive than it is, as it’s written in French. I have to say that Pommes Vapeur sounds rather grander than what I believe is actually “Boiled potatoes”. Plum Pudding aux Feux Follets is intriguing. As far as I can tell “feux follets” is French for “Will-o’-the Wisp” or fireflies. So maybe this means plum pudding set alight in the traditional (English) way.

However, the most interesting part to me is the entertainment. “The Crimson Cocoanut” was a little play dramatized for the occasion, and was particularly notable for two facts – firstly, that it was rather appropriately written by the Director of Public Relations at the War Office. This was John Hay Beith, but his pen name was Ian Hay – as well as a soldier, he was a novelist, playwright, essayist and historian, and adapted The 39 Steps, among other things. He wrote the play in 1913 though, not especially for this event.

Secondly, the play was produced by Arnold Ridley, Officier de Champ at this time, and later to be Dad’s Army’s Private Godfrey. His Army post translates as “Conducting Officer”, and it was his job to supervise the journalists visiting the front line in France. He had a hell of a time on the battlefield. He was in the First World War, and sustained dreadful injuries – his left hand was badly damaged in the Battle of the Somme and left virtually useless, he was hit on the head by the butt of a German soldier’s rifle which led to him suffering blackouts over the rest of his life, and he was bayonetted in the groin. Bayonetted in the groin. It wasn’t enough to put him off signing up for the army as the Second World War began, but he was discharged in health grounds in 1940. Pleasingly, he joined the Home Guard for real for the rest of the war.

I found out that the University of Bristol has his showbusiness ephemera collection – the Arnold Ridley archive, although it is not especially accessible at the moment. I found a copy of this menu and programme on there too.

My mum tells me that Grandad used to love watching Dad’s Army. But when she gave me this programme she didn’t realise that a cast member was mentioned on it. She doesn’t remember him mentioning Arnold Ridley as someone he was ever acquainted with, so I wonder if he even knew of this connection.

(As an aside, I have to say that the purveyor of the comic song has an excellently suitable name – Bugler Dipple.)

Categories
1900-1949 Ephemera Future Predictions Space

The Edge of the Universe, 1922

This is my copy of The Children’s Newspaper from June 10th, 1922. I confess to mainly buying it as that date is also my birthday. The June 10th bit anyway, not the 1922 part.

The Children's Newspaper, 10th June 1922
The Children’s Newspaper, 10th June 1922

A couple of interesting, on-the-brink-of-discovery, articles in this. Firstly this one, which talks of the difficulties before nuclear energy becomes possible:

The Children's Newspaper, 10th June 1922
The Children’s Newspaper, 10th June 1922

But this one I find fascinating, given just how near it lurks to a reality-altering discovery.

A very distant star cluster, N.G.C. 7006, had been observed by astronomers, and was thought to be 220,000 light years from Earth (it’s now measured as being 135,000 light years away). The Children’s Newspaper wonders if this, possibly the most distant thing yet seen, is actually on the edge of the universe. In a way they were right, given that the Milky Way was then actually the known universe – this star cluster is on the outskirts of our own galaxy. The concept of other galaxies was still undiscovered. But not for long. In fact, it was the very next year, 1923, that Edwin Hubble, one of my all-time heroes, concluded that the extremely distant Andromeda star cluster was actually the Andromeda galaxy. One of those shifts in perception that fundamentally change the way we view the universe as a whole, and an incredible mental feat.

He expanded our idea of what the universe is, and then followed that up in 1929 with the discovery that the universe was actually expanding to boot. Whaddaguy.

The Children's Newspaper, 10th June 1922
The Children’s Newspaper, 10th June 1922
Categories
1900-1949 Ephemera Games

Friday Fun – Jack and his Apples, 1922

From The Children’s Newspaper in 1922 comes a riddle:

Jack and His Apples
Jack was a very good natured boy and, meeting his younger brother just after he had purchased some apples, he gave his brother one third of the total number and one third of an apple. Jack then had one apple left. How many did he have in the first place?

The Children's Newspaper, 13th May 1922
The Children’s Newspaper, 13th May 1922

Any ideas? I have to say, I was foxed by this, and cursed the fact that the solution was only available in the next issue, which I don’t have.

So, hooray for finding another online archive! The Children’s Newspaper was amalgamated into Look and Learn magazine in 1965 and the Look and Learn site has put up archived issues of the paper here

So I found the answer in the next issue. It’s right at the bottom of the below image, so as not to spoiler the answer if you’re doing it….

20th May, 1922
20th May, 1922
Categories
1900-1949 Adverts Ephemera

Chief Scout Coins a New Word, 1922

Arthur Mee founded The Children’s Newspaper in 1919 and it continued after his death, until its final issue in 1965. At this point the sixties started to swing, it looked a bit too old fashioned and was integrated into “Look and Learn” magazine. He also presided over The Children’s Encyclopaedia, despite claiming to have no particular affinity to children. His aim wasn’t so much to entertain children as to produce upright citizens of the future, and The Children’s Newspaper was a proper newspaper aiming to keep pre-teens up to date with world news and science. I’ve got a couple of issues from 1922, and they’re still interesting to read today. Especially this article, which I love, from the issue dated 13th May 1922.

The Children's Newspaper, 13th May 1922
The Children’s Newspaper, 13th May 1922

Sir Robert Baden-Powell, founder of the Scout movement and its first Chief Scout, invented a word – “goom”. It’s a great word.

The Children's Newspaper, 13th May 1922
The Children’s Newspaper, 13th May 1922

B-P (as he was known) says,
“Who knows how to goom? It’s a funny word isn’t it? And you won’t find it in the dictionary; but I know its meaning, and when I’ve told you how to go gooming you will agree with me that that is the word for it.”

Essentially, the “goom” is the time just before daybreak, when the songbirds start chattering and before the rest of the world is awake. Once the cocks crow and signs of human life start to appear,
“Man is awake; the sun is up; and gooming is at an end…..Good morning. The goom is over.”

Here’s the article:

The Children's Newspaper, 13th May 1922
The Children’s Newspaper, 13th May 1922

I think he’s right, “goom” is a brilliantly descriptive, yet silly, word and one I will always use in future (and you do see quite a lot of the goom with tiny kids in the house).

It’s a shame it didn’t stick around, well, apart from in Gracie Fields’ vernacular anyway….

Derby Evening Telegraph, 1937
Derby Evening Telegraph, 1937
Categories
1900-1949 Adverts Ephemera Women

Persil “photoshopping”, 1937-style

Oh, naughty Persil! Now I suppose showing just how brightly Persil washes your whites in a black and white advert is a bit of a tricky problem. But look what they’ve done – cut out the nurses apron and hat and replaced them with a bright white background and unrealistic drawn-on creases.

And that’s before we get onto the issue of whether a woman, having just given birth, should be worrying about the whiteness of her wash anyway

The Mirror, 1937
The Mirror, 1937
Categories
1900-1949 Ephemera Women

Katharine Hepburn’s Beauty Tips, 1933

From the Gloucester Citizen, June 26th 1933, comes this little piece – “Beauty Tips by Katherine Hepburn (The Film Star)”. (Spelt wrong)

Gloucester Citizen, 1933
Gloucester Citizen, 1933

“Make a point of going to bed at least once at week at 9.30 or before…” – oh, I so need to start doing that.

In fact, it all sounds good to me. Sensible stuff. And anyway, who am I to argue with the mega-cool original Hep-Kat? (Is that already a nickname for her? It should be.)

This is one look she had in 1933. Dressed as a moth for the film Christopher Strong. I’ve never seen the film, but now I feel I need to see this costume in some kind of context.

Katharine Hepburn in Christopher Strong, 1933
Katharine Hepburn in Christopher Strong, 1933
Categories
1900-1949 Adverts Ephemera Women

Woman’s Most Difficult Problem, 1937

“Even the most fastidious woman may cause embarrassment to others at certain times,” according to this 1937 advert for sanitary towels. Hooray for Dr Van de Velde and his “Vanderised Towels”, then. Wouldn’t want anyone to be embarrassed by us, would we?

Having said that, I am in favour of no chafing if that was previously a danger, pre-Vanderisation.

I’m presuming they’re using the word “prophylactic” as meaning “disease-preventing” here. Otherwise, it’s quite an impressive claim.

The Mirror, 1937
The Mirror, 1937
Categories
1900-1949 Adverts Ephemera

More of What the Doctor ordered, 1937

Wow. Well, my What the Doctor ordered post just, very quickly, became the most viewed post on my site ever. It’s all thanks to Stephen McGann retweeting it – he does play a smoking doctor on Call the Midwife, after all, and therefore the doctor-promoted cigarette advert was rather appropriate.

(This was extra brilliant because I’m such a big McGann fan in general.)

So, inspired by the last post, here’s a bit more smoking doctor stuff from the archives.

Of course, it took a while for the generally anti-smoking sentiment to catch on, especially with doctors. Here’s an article from 1922 where a doctor blames “cheap cigarettes” for a woman’s death, on account of the “large amount of paper used in their manufacture”, not the tobacco or anything. The doctor concluded “It was a great pity that women did not take to smoking pipes.”

The Western Gazette, 1922
The Western Gazette, 1922

But it wasn’t all pro-tobacco. “Is the tolerance of the habit shown by many doctors not owing in some measure to their own indulgence in the habit?” asked the Glasgow Herald in 1924.

The Motherwell Times, 1924
The Motherwell Times, 1924

And even in 1888, this “smokers are stupid” joke was printed:

The Cheltenham Chronicle, 1888
The Cheltenham Chronicle, 1888

And apropos of not much apart from the general cigarette atmos, here’s an advert for the smokers in adversity (advertsity?). It was 1941 and not only was the Blitz happening around you, you had to get by with less tobacco than usual. Here’s an advert being all keep calm and carry on about having to do with 20% less tobacco than before, and urging smokers to stick to their pre-war levels. So smoking must have increased considerably during the war. Understandably.

Portsmouth Evening News, 1941
Portsmouth Evening News, 1941

Anyway.

The volume of hits for the Kensitas cigarette advert inspired me to look a bit deeper into the advertising campaign that the brand ran in 1937. My original advert was from The Mirror, overseas edition, and was based on Kensitas’ statistic that 84% of London doctors who smoked preferred a mild cigarette. That is, as opposed to strong cigarettes, not to no cigarettes at all. It seems like a no brainer to be honest, but in 1937 this was obviously a bigger deal.

I had a nose around the British Newspaper Archive for some more of their adverts and found that there had been a quite extensive campaign. There’s a lot of images with stats for different places and there’s also quite an impressive number of stars of stage and screen lending their faces for the cause, not just Stanley Lupino as in my orignal ad.

I first found this one, in The Lancashire Daily Post. The singer and dancer Miss Binnie Hale is the face of this one, stating that 81% of Preston doctors (who smoked anyway) preferred mild cigarettes.

The Lancashire Daily Post, 1937
The Lancashire Daily Post, 1937

And next I saw this one, also with Binnie Hale, in The Yorkshire Daily Post. Here, um, 81% of Leeds doctors prefer a mild cigarette:

The Yorkshire Daily Post, 1937
The Yorkshire Daily Post, 1937

Now, I’m starting to smell 81% of a rat. Bit of a coincidence, innit?

But no, it turns out that it wasn’t 81% of doctors everywhere. It was, ooh, 81½% in Yorkshire as a whole, as George Robey says:

The Lancashire Daily Post, 1937
The Lancashire Daily Post, 1937

It was 88% in Liverpool, Miss Yvonne Arnaud tells us (Liverpool winning the most sensible doctors in the country competition, there. In a way):

Yorkshire Post and Leeds Intelligencer, 1937
Yorkshire Post and Leeds Intelligencer, 1937

77% of Angus doctors says Jeanne de Casalis:

Dundee Courier, 1937
Dundee Courier, 1937

I’m wondering if someone at Kensitas made a bit of a mix up with some of these ads now, the place names start to mismatch with the local newspapers.

I’m starting to get all a tizzy with the figures already – but now it gets more specific. Mere integers are not enough to express the data at this point.

It’s 87½% of Birmingham doctors says Winfred Shotter:

Lincolnshire Echo, 1937
Lincolnshire Echo, 1937

85¾% of Durham Doctors:

Sunderland Daily Echo and Shipping Gazette, 1937
Sunderland Daily Echo and Shipping Gazette, 1937

(I hope you’re not getting bored of all this)

83½% Edinburgh doctors says Joseph Hislop:

Lancashire Daily Post, 1937
Lancashire Daily Post, 1937
(But I’ve become transfixed in the face of all these meaningless stats)

86¼% of Manchester doctors says Harry Roy:

Yorkshire Evening Post, 1937
Yorkshire Evening Post, 1937

It’s 75 and a third% of Belfast doctors says Will Hay (ooh, I’ve heard of him) (Oh, and bad show, Belfast, you have the hardest smoking doctors):

The Portsmouth Evening News, 1937
The Portsmouth Evening News, 1937

84¾% of Lancashire doctors says the delightful June:

Northern Daily Mail, 1937
Northern Daily Mail, 1937

Gearing up for the overall figures now. Getting exciting.

For the whole of England, it’s 84% announces Dame Sybil Thorndike (there’s some class):

The Lancashire Daily Post, 1937
The Lancashire Daily Post, 1937

For Scotland – 80¾%. according to John Loder:

Northern Daily Mail, 1937
Northern Daily Mail, 1937

And….drum roll…..for the entirety of Britain….it’s 83½%, as announced next to Gordon Harker:

Sunderland Echo and Shipping Gazette, 1937
Sunderland Echo and Shipping Gazette, 1937

Well, there wasn’t much point to all that. I think we have conclusively proved nothing. Except that quite a lot of doctors smoked in 1937.

Smoking.

Categories
1900-1949 Adverts Ephemera Food & Drink

Vintage recipe – Lutona Chocolate Pancakes, 1930s

It’s Shrove Tuesday so, of course, it’s a vintage pancake recipe today. The recipe is from a delightful 1930s Co-operative booklet called 32 Entirely New and Original Lutona Cocoa Recipes. The name “Lutona” refers to the Co-op’s exotic cocoa processing plant…in Luton.

Lutona cocoa booklet, 1930s
Lutona cocoa booklet, 1930s

Lutona cocoa booklet, 1930s
Lutona cocoa booklet, 1930s

Here’s the chocolate pancakes recipe:

Lutona cocoa booklet, 1930s
Lutona cocoa booklet, 1930s

What’s lovely about this book is the specially painted illustrations of all the recipes. This one for chocolate custard is very tempting…

Lutona cocoa booklet, 1930s
Lutona cocoa booklet, 1930s

Does anyone else feel compelled to enter long since defunct competitions? There’s one small bit of my brain that thinks it might open up some kind of time portal to the past.

Lutona cocoa booklet, 1930s
Lutona cocoa booklet, 1930s

Me, I’ll be experimenting this year with egg and dairy-free pancakes for my little allergy-ridden daughter. I have my eye on some banana ones, so I’ll be seeing if it’s possible to make pancakes without most of the things that make a pancake a pancake…