Grand Theatre, Hanley

Performed from 10 to 15 July 1916. Other acts on the same bill were: Cissie Lupino (dancer), Bobbie Peeler (mimetic policeman)

Hillier and Haynes Twa Draps O Scotch Duncan and Godfrey in a Cockney conversation concerning, "A Soldier, a Girl and a Jolly Jack Tar." (The Era - Wednesday 6 September 1916)

‘There is no doubt that the huge audience at the Grand Theatre [in Hanley] on Monday night had gathered largely to see the comedy of “Somewhere in France,” by “the soldier who has made the Empire laugh.” Captain Bruce Bairnsfather is now a household word – his “Fragments” have delighted not only the men at the front but the folks at home. - For, as the soldiers know, his pictures are “the real thing” - vitalised and softened by a delightful humour. No one but a man who has “been out” could have depicted trenches and dug-outs, Johnson holes, battered tin pots, derelict buildings, and dead cats, as has the gallant Captain. He was blown up at the second Battle of Ypres, but he can still see the strange grim humour of modern war, and he can compel others to laugh at it. Who doesn’t know the picture of the badly-scared Tommy, flattening himself on the clay of Flanders, in the light of a star shell, and underlined: “O, star of eve, whose tender beam, falls on my spirit’s troubled dream?” - or that of the huddled group beneath a fragile shelter, inquiring: “Where did that one go to?” while the earth heaves around them? They adorn many a dug-out in France, and many a hut in England. For none admires Bairnsfather more than the soldier. His Bills and Berts, and Alfs are drawn from life - and life in a form that no one who has not been there can fully realise - the deadly, harrowing, devitalising, nerve-racking life of the trenches. The little sketch presented at the Grand this week - “The Johnson ‘Ole” - from the London Hippodrome, is a reflection of trench life in the winter of 1914. The little group of Cockney Tommies, whose existence is a struggle with mud, and bullets, and shells, can sing, and chaff, and growl and do heroic deeds amidst the curious whining whistle of the shells, and the patter of the machine-guns. Bill, the Walrus, excellently played by Mr. Harry Thurston, and Bert, and Harry, all there, with their officer, whom Bill, with his solicitous: “I wouldn’t stand there, if were you, sir!” is perpetually edging out of danger. It was followed with rapt interest, and no doubt with many a heartache, as people visualised the little incidents of trench life. The arrival of the post, and Bill’s utter vagueness as to the day, and month, and even year with which to head his letter, were perhaps not so greatly exaggerated in that deadly winter of stagnation, and monotony, and suspense. It is an unusual and attractive turn, and should prove a powerful “draw” throughout the week. There are many other excellent items on the programme’. Staffordshire Sentinel, Tuesday 1 May 1917.

Ambrose Thorne played Old Bill.

Performed for the week.

‘There can be no two opinions about the “Rations” revue, Mr. Fred Karno’s latest wonderful production, on view at the Hanley Grand Theatre of Varieties this week. Novel in its setting, rich in its fun, thoroughly entertaining in its music, and altogether charming in its dressing, the revue is all that is claimed for it, and something more. There is never any flagging in the swing of it all, and the onlooker must have something seriously the matter if he is not invigorated and refreshed by the great diversion which it so happily provides in these times, when there is no better tonic than a good laugh. So seldom do we meet a revue possessing a title which is at all descriptive of the piece that “Rations” is to be welcomed as a revue which has been so rightly named that, from beginning to end, that is the one and only title it could ever have. It is all about rations, and its authors and producer must be complimented upon issuing the “rations” with so much appropriate sauce and flavouring as is supplied by the whole host of seasonable jokes and banter that run through the entire operation. There are five scenes, and the central figure in four of them is Mr. Robb Wilton, undoubtedly one of the best comedians seen at the Grand for a long time. That is saying a great deal, for his contemporaries are numerous, but it is, nevertheless, true. He is essentially a natural comedian, and he is essentially the central figure we have indicated. Excellent as is all the cast around him, he is, as they say at the Tribunals, the pivot man - the man who commences the fun and sees it through. First of all, he is seen at the Kiss Controller, a very official personage, who invades the park with “a proclamation for the elucidation of osculation,” and, with the assistance of his chief clerk or secretary, proceeds to explain to an amazed congregation of impressionable young ladies the meaning of kiss rationing. The issue of ration cards is an amusing affair, with “four pecks for Miss Bushel,” “one bite for Miss Fish,” “four squeezes for Miss Lemon,” and so forth. The Controller is inundated with difficult points that occur to the anxious feminine mind, but he is judicial in his replies, and not until he is asked, “If I have a kiss card and I have a husband, can deal where I like?” is he puzzled. But the answer is a triumph of officialism. Mr. Frank H. St. Clair is a very efficient Assistant Kiss Controller, and Miss Winnie Collins, as The Flapper, also does extremely well, and her song “Keep it Dark” is an enjoyable number. Miss Maisse Craig also contributes to the fun. In the second scene there is a typical representation of queue troubles outside the butcher’s shop, and, of course, the butcher is none other than Mr. Wilton, whose extravagant impersonation of an independent tradesman creates a great deal of laughter. “We open when we like” is the sign printed on the window blind, and the thought suggested is that that is the attitude with which he at present conducts all his business. He has all sorts of customers to worry him, however, but among those who come to upset him, none causes him more concern than the Bully, ably represented by Mr. Jack Mann. After a great deal of argument, in which the Bully is ever aggressive, the poor butcher is left in confusion, and if a poorer and a sadder man, he is certainly much wiser. Miss Collins, as the Persuasive One, Mr. Harry Davis as a very successful Nut, and Miss Florence Palmer as the irate customer, also figure in the scene, and find much approval. The third scene is a food hoarding farce, and is called “Lady Hoardley’s Secret,” in which Miss Palmer takes the title role with conspicuous ability. Lady Hoardley has enough food stowed away to last her 20 years, “when perhaps the war will be over,” but Bill (Mr. Wilton) and Gus (Mr. St. Clair) invade the privacy of her domicile, and unearth the hidden treasure. They provoke continuous hilarity by their eccentricities, and quite the best part of the scene surrounds the appearance of Miss Collins as the Sleepwalker. In scene four, Miss Collins sings in excellent style a new song, “Wear less clothes,” thus carrying the rationing idea further, until in the last scene of all there is provided a great advertisement for War Bonds, the whole setting being composed of savings appeals, and the top flies being neatly edged with bands of the well-known War Savings badge. There is a tank at the rear of the stage, and the audience are introduced to preparations for Tank Day. Mr. Robb Wilton impersonates Bill, the foreman on the job, who is assisted by Mr. Jack Mann, as Osmund, and Mr. Albert Bright, as the Lad. They successfully “accomplish nothing,” after a great deal of measuring up to make a hole in the street. Why the hole has to be made at all is not clear, but it is a Government job, and after at length agreeing where the hole shall be, the workmen get tied up in more ways than one, until the dinner-hour arrives, much to their relief, and without any actual start having been made. The workmen wax philosophical on various subjects, and Bill, surprised at Osmund’s ignorance, explains what War Savings are. “You have to pay 15s. 6d. in, and the Government give you £1 change,” he says. Mr. St. Clair, Mr. Billy Adams, and Mr. Harry Davis are responsible for further novelty, and Miss Collins appears as a very smart W.A.A.C. girl. The scene closes with the Wallpaper Parade, with Miss Collins as the leading actress and vocalist, and in this latest impression of economy in clothes is reached the climax of a magnificent entertainment' (Staffordshire Sentinel, 17 September 1918). ‘The artists and orchestra from the Grand Theatre, Hanley, kindly provided another capital entertainment at Stoke War Hospital on Friday afternoon, under the management of Mr. Bert Wilbraham and the musical direction of Mr. Cartmell, before a crowded audience of wounded soldiers ... The concluding item was the first scene from the revue, “Rations,” performed by the entire company, and produced immense fun and continuous shouts of laughter. The spontaneous jokes introduced by Mr. Wilton to suit the occasion convulsed the artists as well as the audience. Mr. Robb Wilton was excellently supported by Miss Winnie Collins, Miss Maisse, Craig, and Mr. Frank St. Clair and the ladies of the chorus' (Staffordshire Sentinel, 21 September 1918).

‘One could sit back with confidence and appreciate all the humour of a tribunal farce - cleverly presented by Mr. Charlie Austin and his excellent company - and no doubt there were many present who saw for the first time the funny side of making an appeal for exemption. This sketch, entitled “Parker’s Appeal,” was the tit-bit of the evening. The man Parker is called upon at short notice to come up for judgment as to his indispensability, and towards a passage into the fighting line he receives the help of his employers in the shape of an immediate, not to say unexpected, relief from civil service. All his troubles crowd upon him after his return home from the day’s work at the brewery, and he leaves for the town hall a beaten and dejected man. Some very “hard cases” he encounters of unsuccessful applicants reduces [sic] his hopes to zero, and he enters upon his short, sad trial, prepared for the worst. Pointed to the path of duty, he patriotically decides to follow it, but after the manner of the man who at the beginning was amazed to be asked to join the Army “with a war on,” he consoles himself with the knowledge that there is no longer any need for his help. Mr. Austin realises and utilises all the openings provided by his highly successful part, and in all the three scenes he displays his talent as a comedian of first-rate ability. We must all agree that the British Empire could never have been saved so splendidly, had not our young men been actuated by entirely different motives than “inspires” [sic] the character portrayed, but the farce is welcome because it is a farce abounding in laughable episodes and because it is played so efficiently by Mr. Austin and those who support him’. Staffordshire Sentinel, 12 November 1918.