The Books of To-day and the Books of To-morrow, April 1906
THE NEW REVOLUTION
[It is not generally known that Mr. George Alexander’s daring departure from the conventional—we refer to the wearing of a flannel collar during the performance of ‘His House in Order’—has led to one of the most tremendous upheavals ever known in British Society. On every side celebrities are changing the habits of a lifetime. The subjoined are but a few of the revolutionaries.]
In addition to wearing a flannel collar, Mr. Alexander has abandoned his practice of preserving a knife-like crease in his trousers. Yesterday he was seen in Piccadilly with a distinct ‘bag’ in each knee.
Mr. Frank Richardson now wears a full set of yellow chinchilla whiskers, and has in preparation—for the first time—a novel in which mention is made of these facial disfigurements.
Mr. Chamberlain has given up his eye-glass, and now transfixes opponents through a pair of blue spectacles.
Mr. John Burns’ frock-coat has become one of the most pleasing sights at St. Stephen’s. After-dinner debates are also lightened by Mr. Keir Hardie’s dress-suit and white waistcoat.
Mr. Winston Churchill is trying to grow a beard.
An acute sensation was caused at the Tivoli last Saturday night by the appearance of Mr. George Robey with an unreddened nose. The disturbance was, however, checked by an announcement on the part of the management that money would be returned at the doors.
Mr. Oetzmann has grown tired of his Jewells.
A feature of the University Boat Race was the costume of the Cambridge crew. Instead of the customary shorts, they wore neat tweed suitings and bowler hats.
Mr. Sherlock Holmes, the eminent specialist in criminal research, has sold his deer-stalker cap in favour of a sombrero.
Encouraged by his cordial reception at His Majesty’s Theatre, Mr. Tree has decided to wear Roman robes off the stage. He caused a furore last Sunday on Church Parade in a chic creation of mauve with accordion pleats.
Mr. Hall Caine has shaved.
The costume de rigueur in the Scots Guards is, we gather from the Daily Mail, a close-fitting uniform of tar and feathers.
Printed unsigned; entered by Wodehouse in Money Received for Literary Work.