The War Years (All This And Bevin Too)
Among the firms for whom I most often worked was Messrs. Ivor Nicholson & Watson whose art editor told me that if I wanted to write something for publication, the time and place were now and here. . . I thought it prudent not to attempt anything long. I decided to write a mere pamphlet in verse. The Idea for this had come to me some time before when a friend had uttered in my hearing a limerick about a kangaroo who offered himself to the zoo.
It ended:
But whenever he tried
The committee replied,
'We already have plenty of you.'
By the time I next saw my friend I had added a second verse:
If you like you may leave us your name
So that we may go into your claim
And then doubtless you'll hear,
In the course of the year,
An evasive reply to the same.
My friend said that this had now become a slashing indictment of the Ministry of Labour. I rather shakily agreed but, even when elaborated into forty-eight rather clumsy verses of angerless satire, the idea seemed to need something else to make it worth a publisher's while. I decided to try to ensnare Mr. Peake into illustrating it. He was at that time the most fashionable illustrator in England.
When the book came out, anxious to know if sales were booming. I crept into Hatchards where a pile of copies was on display. To my delight there was a man staring at the uppermost of these. This, however, turned out to be Mr. Peake. I do not think All This and Bevin Too can have been a triumph. Although I was immediately commissioned to write (and paid for) another book, the second was never published.
It ended:
But whenever he tried
The committee replied,
'We already have plenty of you.'
By the time I next saw my friend I had added a second verse:
If you like you may leave us your name
So that we may go into your claim
And then doubtless you'll hear,
In the course of the year,
An evasive reply to the same.
My friend said that this had now become a slashing indictment of the Ministry of Labour. I rather shakily agreed but, even when elaborated into forty-eight rather clumsy verses of angerless satire, the idea seemed to need something else to make it worth a publisher's while. I decided to try to ensnare Mr. Peake into illustrating it. He was at that time the most fashionable illustrator in England.
When the book came out, anxious to know if sales were booming. I crept into Hatchards where a pile of copies was on display. To my delight there was a man staring at the uppermost of these. This, however, turned out to be Mr. Peake. I do not think All This and Bevin Too can have been a triumph. Although I was immediately commissioned to write (and paid for) another book, the second was never published.