Punch (86.1884)

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

[Februaby 2, 1884.

VERY TRYING.

A Pwcorct of a few Trials of Patience.

No. IY.—Tee Good-Humoured Magistrate.

OBN PUMMLE was
charged before Mr.
Bowers, the pre-
siding Magistrate,
with assaulting
Charles Short.

The Complainant
(who had a black
eye) deposed : — On
Tuesday, your Wor-
ship, I was standing
on a seat in the
Strand, waiting for
the Lord Mayor’s
Procession to pass.
About four rows in
front of me was the
back of a man who
I thought was Alf
Watson.

Mr. Bowers. And
who is Alf Watson F
Complainant. He
is a packer at the
Stores, you know.

Bowers. Well, I didn’t know, but I’m
ays pleased to receive information. I hope
he ’ll stick to his packing-cases, and keep out
of assault cases. {Laughter.) However, we
had better not interrupt the evidence.
Complainant. Let’s see—where was I ?—oh, I know. Well, your
Worship, the man in front, who I thought was Alf Watson, turned
out to be Defendant.

Mr. Bowers. What made you think it was Alf Watson ?
Complainant. The back of his head looked like Alf’s.

Mr. Bowers. Oh, I see—a phrenological similarity.

Complainant. May be, your Worship. All I know is, some
people’s backs of their head is more recognisable than the fronts of
their face. Look at the back of my head.

\The Witness here turned his hack to the learned Magistrate,
and displayed a triangular bald patch, ivhich created con-
siderable amusement in Court.

Amusement in Court.

Open Spaces.

Mr. Bowers. It would be as well, I think, to let the evidence now
proceed without interruption.

Complainant. Well, your Worship, I calls out, “ Hulloh, Alf
Watson ! ” and I leant over, and touched him gently on the back of
his head with my stick—just so.

[The Complainant lightly tapped with his stick the ledge of the
witness-box.

Mr. Bowers. A rather striking illustration.

Defendant {interrupting). Not a bit like it, your Worship. He
tapped me like this.

\_The Defendant here struck with his stick a tremendous blow on
the ledge of the prisoner's dock.

Mr. Bowers. I cannot help thinking that that is a violent assault
upon the Court. {Loud laughter, in ivhich the Chief Usher joined.)
Now I think we must let the case proceed without interruption.

Complainant. At all events, your Worship, I didn’t hurt him.

Defendant. Oh, didn’t you ? Perhaps your Worship would like
to look at my head.

[ The Defendant turned his back to the Magistrate, and displayed
a large contusion.

Mr. Bowers. Of course it’s impossible to judge at this distance,
but it appears to me to resemble an extra development of the bump
of Philoprogenitiveness. However, I will hear your defence at the
proper time, Defendant; so please don’t let us interrupt the Witness.

Complainant. What I meant, your Worship, was, if it had been
my friend Alf Watson it would not have hurt him.

Mr. Boivers. You mean—
some heads are softer than
others, and more sensitive to
the touch.

Complainant. YYs, your
Worship. Why, bless you,

Alf Watson’s chump is as
hard as a brick.

Mr. Bowers. l"ou call him
your friend — I can’t help
thinking he would not care to
hear you say what you have,
about him.

Complain ant. He don't
mind. He’s here to prove
it 1

Mr. Bowers. I’m afraid I
can’t admit his evidence.

Don’t you see—the evidence
of a man who doesn't mind
being hit at the back of the
head with a stick, cannot
possibly affect the case of a
man who does object to it.

{Laughter.) But you really
must proceed with your evi-
dence.

Complainant. The Defendant turned round, and I said, “It’s a.
mistake—I thought you were Alf Watson.” The Defendant, in
reply, said, “Oh, is it? Wait till the Show has passed, and I’ll
Alf Watson you in the eye.”

Mr. Bowers. A new form of assault, evidently. And what passed
then ?

Complainant. The Lord Mayor’s Show did. {Laughter.) The
Defendant then came down on me like a ton of bricks, as my eye will
prove.

Mr. Bowers. Ocular evidence. {To Defendant.) blow is your
time to ask any question of the Witness.

Defendant. Thanks, your Worship. {To Witness.) What’s your
name ?

Complainant. Short.

Defendant. All right. I ’ll soon make short work of you.

[Boars of laughter, in which the Magistrate joined.

Complainant {indignantly). I don’t consider this a case for joking,
your Worship.

Mr. Boivers. Y'ou are right there ; hut I can’t, in justice, rebuke
a man for joking, when I’ve been doing it myself ; therefore, I’ll
adjourn the case for a week, by which time, I hope, we shall all be in
a more serious mood.

Mr. Bowers.

Biddy Flaherty, Molly O' Finnigen, Kate O'Leary, Patrick
Midgan, 0. B. Jabers, Thady O' Flynn, Dan Dunnomore, and I‘hit
Flanagan were summoned before Mr. Bowers, charged with illegally
detaining two bonnets, a towel-horse, a pair of blankets, a flat-iron,
two pairs of pattens, a woollen shawl, and a bottle of whiskey, alleged
to be the property respectively of Betsy O’Hagan, Katherine
Cork, Mary Munster, Paddy Murphy, and Phineas O’Connor.

Mr. Bowers. Ah! This is evidently going to be an interesting
case. {Laughter.)

The first Witness called was P.C. Job, 297 Z. He said :—On
Wednesday week I visited!, Durham’s Ptents, the first floor of which
is occupied by all the parties connected with this case. I was called
in by the complainant, Betsy O’Hagan, who said-

Biddy Flaherty. YYu lie, you lie !

Phil Flanagan. Spake the truth.

0. B. Jabers. To the divil with ye !

Dan Dunnomore. Och, ye spalpeen !

Phil Flanagan. Where d’ye expect to go to ?-

Pat Mulgan. Ye tell more truth when ye spake lies.

[2’Aere was great uproar, and when the Usher at length suc-
ceeded in procuring silence—