Anyone brought up on a diet of American comics or television since the 1960s would have come across that ultimate icon of juvenile mischief, “Dennis Mitchell”, better known as Dennis the Menace. Fictional Dennis from “Middletown” USA imprinted himself on the public consciousness first as a character in cartoons and comic books from the early Fifties, later as the subject of a popular American TV series (1959-1962), and then as a movie in 1993{a}.
But if you happen to live on the opposite side of the Atlantic and are a similar consumer of comic strip popular culture then you are probably going to be more familiar with another and rather different “Dennis the Menace”. To generation after generation of Britons Dennis the Menace is not American, but a beloved, homegrown comic character who emerged out of a classic Scottish-based comic weekly The Beano in the 1950s.
The coincidence of two identically named sub-adult comic book characters evolving separately and independently has an even more remarkable, almost unbelievable, parallel. The two Dennises debuted as comic strip characters on either side of the Atlantic on the exact same day, 12th March 1951. Which “Dennis“ was conceived first by his respective creator cannot be known, but the two Eureka moments were certainly distinctively different.
Genesis story of Dennis I and II
George Moonie (Britain) and Hank Ketcham (US) were the creators of their respective “Dennises”. For The Beano editor Moonie the idea and the name came to him when he heard the chorus of a music hall song…”I’m Dennis the Menace from Venice” and the name stuck. In American Hank Ketcham’s case his wife was the catalyst when she complained to the cartoonist about their four-year-old son Dennis‘ errant behaviour, describing him as “a menace”.
Both the British Dennis and the American Dennis have a talent for creating mayhem in the neighbourhood. Physically though they bear little resemblance to each other. Ketcham’s Dennis is a yellow-haired four (or five)-year-old, cherub-like boy with freckles, perpetually garbed in red overalls, whereas the British Dennis–as drawn by cartoon artist David Law—is a ten-year-old tearaway with a thatch of black spiky hair, shown always wearing his trademark red and black striped jumper.
Personality-wise the two Dennises are also quite a bit different. American Dennis’ mischievous ways annoy the hell out of adults, especially the Wilson’s’ long-suffering next door neighbour Mr (George) Wilson, but this Dennis is affable and basically a well-intentioned if compulsive-obsessive little boy. British Dennis on the other hand is real juvenile delinquent material, his full-on troublemaking antics mark him out as an unreformed and unrepentant bad boy, a hooligan in the making. Dennis can be seen as part of an Anglo tradition of naughty boys in kid’s lit connecting with the likes of famous fictional schoolboy Just William and Horrid Henry , [‘Dennis at 60’, BBC, 07-Mar-2011, www.bbc.com]
Sidekicks
British Dennis’ “besties” are Curly and Pie-Face (fellow “menaces”) but also prominent in the story is Dennis’ girl cousin Hermione Makepeace AKA Minnie the Minx, a rival to Dennis in the carnage creation stakes with a reputation as Beanotown’s “wildest tomboy”. Dennis Mitchell’s friends are the rather nondescript and naively loyal Joey and the feisty Margaret Wade who’s more of a frenemy and occasional nemesis to “The Menace”. Canine deuteragonists
Boy’s best friend…both Dennises have a dog companion although Moonie/Law’s Dennis’ dog Gnasher—an Abyssinian Wire-haired Tripe Hound with black spiky hair to match its owner—didn’t get to make an appearance in the strips until Issue 1362 in 1968. Dennis Mitchell’s dog Ruff is a dog of a very different proportion, a Briad (a large French sheepdog{b})
Postscript: Bringing Dennis into line with the modern world
The arrival of the UK’s Dennis the Menace strip was a godsend to The Beano, boosting the comic mag’s flagging sales at the time. Today it is still The Beano‘s star vehicle{c} although the editors have had to tone down Dennis and some of his rougher edges. The 21st century Dennis the Menace is less anti-social, his more unsavoury traits such as bullying have been eradicated to conform to modern sensitivities [‘Beano hero: Dennis the Menace turns 70’, Alison Flood, The Guardian, 17-Mar-2021, www.theguardian.com]
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
{a} not to neglect several other iterations of Menace-Dennis in TV movies including at least one animation feature
{b} a Briad on the screen at least, in the comic strips Ruff’s breed is not clarified
{c} the British Dennis has also made it onto the TV screen but to a more modest extent than his American counterpart
The chances are most folk with a passing interest in words and language have come across the odd Malapropism and Spoonerism in their travels. For these two terms for errors in natural speech (or if you prefer, modes of original linguistic inventiveness) we have the fictional “Mrs Malaprop” and the real life “Reverend Spooner” to thank. Myself, I tend to associate Malapropisms (the accidental substitution of a incorrect word in place of another, usually similar-sounding one) in fiction with Arthur Daley, the small-time, dodgy as-they-get wheeler dealer in TV’s Minder (“From now on the world is your lobster”, the “Arfur” Daley variation on “oyster”) and in real life with former Australian PM Tony Abbott (“the suppository of all wisdom” (should have said “repository”)). Spoonerisms are another type of verbal misstep where the speaker makes a “slip of the tongue”, accidentally transposing the initial consonants of two consecutive words, often with humorous results. One of the most referenced examples is “you have hissed my mystery lecture”, instead of “you have missed my history lecture”.
⌖ ⌖ ⌖
Would the latte-sipping, smashed avocado inner city set recognise a Mondegreen, Mumpsimus or Eggcorn when they see one? Probably not, these three linguistic odd fellows are the domain of dedicated language buffs and word nerds. If the ABC conducted a vox-pop in Martin Place “Mondegreen” would likely draw a blank, however the concept itself is a different story…anyone exposed to popular music would have at some point either unknowingly committed a Mondegreen or observed someone else in the act. A Mondegreen is where you mishear or misinterpret a phrase—especially a song lyric but it could also be a line from a poem—with the result that you give it a new and different meaning. I can hear the ranks of the slightly incredulous intoning “I didn’t know there was a word for that!”
Given the associated factors of diction and high volume noise, Mondegreenisms in modern pop music are legion, one of the most iconic is the misinterpretation by untold number of listeners of Jimi Hendrix’s line, “Excuse me while I kiss the sky” (“Purple Haze”) as “Excuse me while I kiss the guy“. Two more classic confusions warranting honourable mention are The Beatles’ “The girl with kaleidoscope eyes” transformed by an erring ear into “The girl with colitis goes by” (from “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds”) and Johnny Nash’s “I can see clearly now, the rain has gone”, reinterpreted as “I can see clearly now, Lorraine has gone”. As these examples indicate, where the lyrics come unstuck it’s a fair chance that the culprit is a quasi-hononym.
Coining of Mondegreen: the word (but not the act) originated in 1954 with American writer Sylvia Wright…as a girl listening to her mother readIng a 18th century romantic poem she erroneously heard “Lady Mondegreen” instead of the actual lyric, “layd him on the green”. On being advised of her error Sylvia thought her interpretation “better than the original” and stuck to it, even inserting a character named “Lady Mondegreen” into her published stories.
Incoherent or indecipherable words in a song can be the source of “great storms in a teacup”. The Kingsmen’s 1963 recording of “Louie Louie” (vocalised incomprehensibly by Jack Ely) prompted an avalanche of complaints from outraged parents of teenagers about a supposed litany of obscene and pornographic lyrics in the single. Knee-jerk misinterpretations abounded from the morally-incensed in Middle America. One irate father even wrote to US attorney general Bobby Kennedy moaning about the lyrics’ “moral degradation” leading bizarrely to the FBI investigating the song (the Bureau failed to unearth any such obscenities)! All of which lends credence to the axiom that “people will hear what they want to hear” – which goes to the very heart of Mondegreens※.
⌖ ⌖ ⌖
Mumpsimus are a different kettle of aquatic, craniate gill-bearing animals. Practitioners of Mumpsimus stubbornly insist on an incorrect usage…even after being proven wrong” (Fritinancy). Mumpsimustas obstinately cling to an error, bad habit or prejudice, even after the foible is exposed. Examples include the use of “all intensive purposes” in lieu of the correct phrase, “all intents and purposes”; the verbal substitution of “nuclear” with “nucular” (a proclivity of George W Bush)§.
Another, related form of expression that derives from mishearing and involves reinterpretation is “Eggcorn”. Eggcorns, like Mondegreens revolve around the near-homonym while differing from Mumpsimus in that their use is unconscious and unintentional. It often occurs when people are ignorant of the precise words in stock phrases and substitute what they erroneously believe to be the correct words or expression. Examples are manifold – saying “mute point” instead of “moot point”; “tenderhooks” instead of “tenterhooks”; “pass mustard” instead of “pass muster” etc ad nauseum. An essential feature of the eggcorn is that it must retain some of the original meaning as the speaker understands it (eg, Alzheimer’s disease is rendered into “Old-timer’s disease”). The term itself is an “Eggcorn”, it’s genesis can be traced back to a creative utterance from an anonymous individual who inserted the word “eggcorn” where the similarly sounding “acorn” would conventionally go (Mark Lieberman, 2003).
°° ͡° ͡°° ͡° ͡°° ͡° ͡°° ͡° ͡°° ͡° ͡°° ͡°°°
※ Steven Connor suggests that cognitive dissonance is in train in the creation of Mondegreens – the brain is constantly trying “to make sense of the world by making assumptions to fill in the gaps when it cannot clearly determine what it is hearing” (‘Earslips: Of Mishearings and Mondegreens’, 2009)
§ the word Mumpsimus, a confused misinterpretation of the Latin term “Sumpsimus” (“we have received”), was accidentally coined by an old monk who doggedly persisted in using the invented word. Mumpsimus first appears in the correspondence of famous humanist scholar Erasmus Roterodamus, dating from 1516
The Lord Chamberlain (LC) is the most senior member of Queen Elizabeth II’s Royal Household retinue. The office has been around in Britain for over 600 years, the incumbent is usually a peer and traditionally has always been male. Today, the LC handles the organisation for the Queen’s attendances at garden parties, state visits, looks after HM’s thoroughbred horses and he supervises the annual upping of the Royal swans. For much of its history though the LC had another, controversial role, censor of the British Theatre with virtual dictatorial powers — he “was answerable to no-one, not even parliament, and was not obliged to justify his decision to playwrights or theatre managers” [NICHOLSON, Steve. Theatre Censorship in Britain (1909-1968) In: Les censures dans le monde: xixe-xxie siècle[online]. Rennes: Presses universitaires de Rennes, 2016 (generated 17 novembre 2021). Available on the Internet: . ISBN: 9782753555495. DOI: https://doi.org/10.4000/books.pur.45008.] A much aggrieved George Bernard Shaw characterised the LC as the “Malvolio of St James’ Palace” [‘The Censorship of the Stage in England’, G. Bernard Shaw, North American Review, August 1899, Vol 69, No 513, pp.251-262, www.jstor.org/stable/25104865].
⋄ The politics of early Georgian drama
Theatre censorship had existed in England since the 16th century but institutionalising its practice as a function of the Lord Chamberlain’s Office (LCO) was a political manoeuvre by the ”First Minster“ Robert Walpole in the 1730s to blunt the weapon of satire which was being effectively used theatrically against his government. The 1737 Licensing Act handed the LC the “power of god” over the English theatre, remarkably this legislative arrangement stayed in force until as recently as 1968. Hitherto to the crackdown critics🄰 of the ruling Whig Party were relatively free to make satirical attacks through the theatre of the day to expose the political corruption of Walpole’s government. The LC’s new carte blanche powers were designed to silence a theatre increasingly hostile to Walpole and the Whigs🄱 [‘The Licensing Act of 1737’, Eliza Hay, www.ericsimpson.sites.grinnell.edu].
⋄ Examiner of Plays
The LC was provided with two officers to put the spadework, a Examiner of Plays🄲 and a Deputy Examiner of Plays (the offices remunerated by yearly stipends of £400 and £200 respectively). The examiners’ task, assisted by secretaries and other auxiliary staff, was to read the plays that came before them (the LC himself did precious little of the actual reading of the plays) and write “Reader’s Reports” for the LC. They were also required to visit theatres to check on their safety and comfort and to ensure that the LC’s licensing rules were being observed. Theatres without a licence were liable for prosecution and financial penalties [‘Licensing Act 1737’, Wikipedia, http://en.m.wikipedia.org]. Although the ultimate decision on a license rested with the LC, the recommendations to make or break a new play came from the examiners, little wonder then that Bernard Shaw called the examiner “the most powerful man in England or America”.
Above and beyond the spoken word and the text
Censorship was not confined to bowdlerising the texts and banning plays outright🄳, the scope of the Royal censors extended to the actors’ gestures, the costumes, the sound and lighting effects, the set and the stage directions (Nicholson).
The view from within the Lord Chamberlain’s Office bubble
The LCO saw themselves as licensors rather than censors. They never really grasped why any reasonable dramatist or manager could object to their control, concluding that playwrights who did so were just trying “to exploit an unsavoury incident or fact”. In the LCO’s Pollyanna-like world view authors of “ordinary decent plays” on the other hand had nothing to fear. The LCO took a disparaging and contemptuous view of the modern playwrights who would rail against their invervention (such as John Osborne and Edward Bond🄴). The LCO tended to justify its censoring role in patronising terms, seeing itself as a moral watchdog, protecting the average playgoer from unsavoury plays, custodians of good taste on the English stage (Nicholson).
Zero guidance for the artist
The Act’s vagueness placed playwrights in an additional dilemma, the office of the LC never really spelt out explicitly what constituted a play’s suitability or unsuitability for a licence, leaving dramatists and the actor-managers of theatres guessing as to the basis of the objection. Plays rejected for a licence or having their manuscripts blue-pencilled for wholesale cuts were usually generically herded under a non-specific catch-all of being either ”immoral or improper for the stage”.
An effort at codifying
The 1843 Theatres Act made a partial effort at codifying and limiting the LC’s powers, stipulating that a play could only be prohibited if “it is fitting for the preservation of good manners, decorum or of the public peace”. A joint select committee in 1909 advising the LC provided further clarification of the powers, the following were said to be “no-nos” in plays: indecent subject matter; (if a play contains) “offensive personalities”; (if it infers) “violence to sentiments of religious reverence”; “represents invidious manner of living persons”; “calculated to conduce crime and vice”; “impairs friendly relations with foreign powers”🄵 [‘The Lord Chamberlain’s Plays with British Library Curator Dr Alexander Lock’, People of Theatre, (Vlog, 2021), www.peopleoftheatre.com].
Plays that dealt seriously with contemporary issues especially sexuality were severely blue-pencilled, eg, prostitution in Shaw’s Mrs Warren’s Profession. The continuing influence of religion saw the LC come down heavily on blasphemy, the portrayal of biblical figures were taboo (eg, Oscar Wilde’s Salome. Obscene language in plays was a serious infraction of the code. Into the 20th century the censorship of the LC maintained its prescriptive role, plays that earned the ire of the examiners included such classics of the modern theatre as Waiting for Godot (bodily functions or parts, even mere sexual suggestiveness) and Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (homosexuality) which had already had a successful run on Broadway in the US. Increasingly as a result the LC was seen to be out of touch with modern concerns and realities.
Self-censorship and censorship by proxy
The LC held such control over theatrical performances in Britain that it even prompted an element of censorship by proxy. Rudolf Weiss has noted that fear of the LC‘s wrath led some playwrights to self-censor their work to secure a license and thus a hearing in Britain. Some of the autocratic actor-managers—fearful of financial losses arising from an aborted production—have done the LC’s work for them [‘“Unsuitable for theatrical presentation”: Mechanisms of censorship in later Victorian and Edwardian London Theatre’, Rudolf Weiss, www.ler.letras.up.pt].
End of the Lord Chamberlain’s censorship authority
Opposition to censorship was in the air in the 1960s with the emergence of a permissive society…a new generation of young playwrights like Osborne, Pinter and Bond were exploring increasingly polemical subjects in modern society. The Arts Council of Great Britain described the LC’s veto power as having “a contraceptive effect on the development of British drama” (Nicholson). The coup de grâce for theatre censorship came from the reformist Wilson Labour government🄶. The 1968 Theatres Act was part of a broad sweep of modernising legislation during the Sixties, along with the end of capital punishment, the decriminalisation of homosexuality, the introduction of the pill and the legalisation of abortion [‘50 years after Theatres Act, censorship has evolved’, Sandra Osei-Frimpong, Index on Censorship, 14-Aug-2018, www.indexoncensorship.org]. The repeal of stage censorship opened the floodgates for creativity and bold innovation – just one day after the ban ended, the controversial US counterculture musical Hair (New Age nudity, drug-taking) opened on London’s West End.
G Bernard Shaw (Source: thefamouspeople.com)
⋄ Footnote: Loophole in the system
The LCO’s net was wide but there were ways to get round the expurgator’s ban…when one Shaw play was banned in Britain for perceived profanity, the Irish playwright simply resorted to staging it in Liverpool and then Dublin. Later on some playwrights avoided the public theatre circuit altogether and put on their work exclusively at (private member) club theatres around the country. Even British drama institutions, the Royal Shakespeare Company and the Royal Court Theatre, frustrated by the LCO’s persistent interference, “threatened to turn themselves into private clubs for specific productions to evade the LC’s rulings” (Nicholson), which contributed to the groundswell of groups and individuals campaigning to end theatrical censorship.
…………………………………………………………….
🄰 with dramatist Henry Fielding in the forefront along with the Jacobite opponents of the Whigs
🄱 in theory the LC’s authority was limited to Westminster but effectively its jurisdiction applied to all Theatre Royal playhouses [‘Theatrical Oligarchies: The Role of the Examiner of Plays’, Oxford Scholarship Online, www.oxford.universitypressscholarship.com]
🄲 sometimes called ‘Comptroller’, in the 20th century they have mainly been military men-turned courtiers
🄳 each year relative few plays actually got banned, expurgation was the common recourse
🄴 whose play Saved was one of the last to be banned
🄵 these grounds would prove very controversial in the 1930 when the LC Lord Cromer banned a number of English plays which were hostile towards Nazi Germany (a manifestation of London’s appeasement approach to relations with Berlin). Cromer even send some scripts to the German Embassy for their ‘approval’! [‘Theatre of War: how the monarchy suppressed anti-Nazi drama in the 1930s’, Steve Nicholson, The Guardian, 22-Jul-2015, www.theguardian.com]
🄶 the previous Labour (Attlee) government had unsuccessfully tried to pass an anti-censorship bill in 1949
Last year the US cable channel Comedy Central cancelled its totally left-field ‘reality’ program Drunk History after six seasons. On the surface it might seem improbable that a program with such a flimsy framework would have had such a good run in the cut-throat world of American TV. When the show started in 2013 I wouldn’t have put the ancestral home, or even the rustic “lean-to”, on its chances of surviving into a second season. My initial impressions—apparently mistaken, see below—were that the actors were pretending, not very convincingly and in fact somewhat ham-fistedly, to be drunk.
࿏࿏࿏
It’s relative longevity aside, another thing that surprises me about Drunk History was that the show didn’t really attract much flak from the Temperance Society, AA, the Religious Right, the Puritan elders or other moral crusaders for its portrayal of people in states of intoxication bordering on the point of being ‘legless’. In the Australian version of ‘Drunk History’ there were some mild rebukes in the media, mostly a bit of tut-tutting from viewers about the dangers of “glamorising excessive binge drinking” in a country with an extensive history of problems with the Demon drink§(David Knox, TV Tonight, 2019).
The germ of the idea for Drunk History came from, of all things, a late night drinking session its co-creator Derek Waters had with a fellow actor (who’d have guessed!) It premiered under the name Funny or Die as a web series in 2008, the debut webisode featured a liberty-taking retelling of the famous Hamilton-Burr duel in 1804. From an unorthodox educational point of view Drunk History is a kind of adult version soulmate of the British children’s comedy series Horrible Histories, a similar serving of factually-based, humorously told anecdotes for junior viewers, which itself is a quantum leap forward pedagogically from 1950s children television fare of this ilk, eg, Peabody’s Improbable History, which consisted of an anthropomorphic cartoon dog who time travels with a naive and extremely annoying boy companion to earlier epochs to do a bit of history mangling.
The format’s opening gambit presents Waters in relaxed drinking mode with guest storyteller…with very little coaxing from Waters the narrator in no time descends into a boozy state and starts to unfurl a rambling, episodic, partially incoherent account of some historical event (the majority but not all from the pages of American history)…then it segues into a scene where actors in appropriate period costume act out the story while lip-synching the narrator‘s words with hilarious results. The narrators are usually stand-up comedians…possessors of the right skillsets for rambunctious story telling of course! Who better to do it than the dudes for whom off-the-lease manic ranting in booze-soaked establishments is second nature?
¹⁸⁰⁰ ᵖʳᵉᶻ ᵉˡᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ ⁽ˢᵒᵘʳᶜᵉ﹕ ᵖⁱⁿᵗᵉʳᵉˢᵗ⁾
࿏࿏࿏
Given the cavalier narration and fabricated and anachronistic dialogue littered with liberal snatches of “hipster-speak” and “dude-speak”, you might suspect Drunk History to be sloppy as to historical accuracy. The producers however went to some pains to be accurate with dates and names and what actually happened in the stories. This can be put down to the efforts of hired UCLA PhD students who did the research heavy lifting to keep the history on the tracks. Special care was also taken with the narrators, tasked with getting sufficiently inebriated to capture the desired mood. As host Waters plies them with drink medics are on hand during the shooting—which took place within the familiar and safe milieu of the narrators’ own homes—just in case the alcohol was getting the upper hand over the comics (apparently this was the case on more than one occasion!) (Justin Monroe, ‘The Sober Reality of Drunk History’, Complex, 01-Sep-2015, www.complex.com).
࿏࿏࿏
But from being initially sceptical about Drunk History, my opinion mellowed (perhaps helped by imbibing a snifter or two myself during viewing) and I slowly warmed to the series. Ultimately I came to appreciate the novel things it brought… introducing me to hitherto low-profile, perhaps minor historical figures and little known events from the past, eg, invention of Coca-Cola, the birth of Hip Hop, Nikola Tesla’s breakthroughs, Tunnel 57 (1964 Berlin Wall incident), “Dr Feelgood”, Lawnchair Larry flight, Typhoid Mary, “Night Witches” (German WWII military aviatrixes)✪. The storytellers raise a glass or three to forgotten women chauvinistically airbrushed from history, one such ‘minor’ figure unearthed in an episode was 16-year-old Sybil Ludington who made an heroic night-time dash by horse to alert New York citizens of the impending threat from the British forces during the American War of Independence (sound familiar?), and alerting us to the fact of how very differently history remembers Sybil and other females (or doesn’t remember!), compared to the immortal glory and reverence heaped on Paul Revere for his famous ride. Another female heroine getting her due recognition in history from Drunk History is Rose Valland, a Parisian art curator in WWII who thwarted the occupying Nazis’ heist of a huge haul of priceless first rank artworks.
࿏࿏࿏
Giving an extra layer of lustre to the series are the various celebrities appearing in episodes of Drunk History – including “Weird Al” Yankovic as Adolf Hitler, Laura Dern as Nellie Bly, Jack Black as Elvis Presley, Will Ferrell as Abe Lincoln and Ben Folds as Nathan Cherry.
Postscript:Drunk History International The runaway success of the US prototype has spawned a number of international versions, at last count the franchise has extended to the UK, México, Hungary, Brazil, Poland, Argentina and Australia.