Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. 103, August 27, 1892 by Various
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Various >> Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. 103, August 27, 1892
PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
VOL. 103.
August 27, 1892.
TWO-PENN'ORTH OF THEOSOPHY.
(_A SKETCH AT THE ISLINGTON ARCADIA._)
SCENE--_The Agricultural Hall. A large Steam-Circus is
revolving with its organ in full blast; near it is a
"Razzle-Dazzle" Machine, provided with a powerful mechanical
piano. To the combined strains of these instruments, the
merrier hearts of Islington are performing a desultory dance,
which seems to consist chiefly in the various couples charging
each other with desperate gallantry. At the further end of
the Hall is a Stage, on which a Variety Performance is in
progress, and along the side of the gallery a Switchback, the
rolling thunder of which, accompanied by masculine whoops and
feminine squeaks, is distinctly audible. Near the entrance
is a painted house-front with two doors, which are being
pitilessly battered with wooden balls; from time to time
a well-directed missile touches a spring, one of the doors
opens, and an idiotic effigy comes blandly goggling and
sliding down an inclined plane, to be saluted with yells of
laughter, and ignominiously pushed back into domestic privacy.
Amidst surroundings thus happily suggesting the idyllic and
pastoral associations of Arcady, is an unpretending booth,
the placards on which announce it to be the temporary
resting-place of the "Far-famed Adepts of Thibet," who are
there for a much-needed change, after a "3500 years' residence
in the Desert of Gobi." There is also a solemn warning that
"it is impossible to spoof a Mahatma." In front of this booth,
a fair-headed, round-faced, and Spectacled Gentleman, in
evening clothes, and a particularly crumpled shirt-front--who
presents a sort of compromise between the Scientific Savant
and the German Waiter has just locked up his Assistant in
a wooden pillory, for no obvious reason except to attract
a crowd. The crowd collects accordingly, and includes a
Comic Coachman, who, with his Friend--a tall and speechless
nonentity--has evidently come out to enjoy himself_.
[Illustration: "I have here two ordinary clean clay pipes."]
_The Spectacled Gentleman_ (_letting the Assistant out of the
pillory, with the air of a man who does not often unbend to these
frivolities_). Now, Gentlemen, I am sure all those whom I see around
me have heard of those marvellous beings--the Mahatmas--and how they
can travel through space in astral bodies, and produce matter out of
nothing at all. (_Here the group endeavour to look as if these facts
were familiar to them from infancy, while the_ Comic Coachman _assumes
the intelligent interest of a Pantomime Clown in the price of a
property fish_.) Very well; but perhaps some of you may not be aware
that at this very moment the air all around you is full of ghosts.
_The Comic Coachman_ (_affecting extreme terror_). 'Ere, let me get
_out_ o' this! Where's my friend?
_The Sp. G._ I am only telling you the simple truth. There is,
floating above the head of each one of you, the ghostly counterpart of
himself; and the ghost of anybody who is smoking will be smoking also
the ghost of a cigar or a pipe.
_The C.C._ (_to his attendant Phantom_). 'Ere, 'and me down one o'
your smokes to try, will yer?
_The Sp. G._ You laugh--but I am no believer in making statements
without proof to support them, and I shall now proceed to offer you
convincing evidence that what I say is true. (_Movement of startled
incredulity in group._) I have here two ordinary clean clay pipes.
(_Producing them_.) Now, Sir, (_to the_ C.C.) will you oblige me by
putting your finger in the bowls to test whether there is any tobacco
there or not?
_The C.C._ Not _me_. None o' those games for me! Where's my
friend?--it's more in _'is_ line!
[_The Friend, however, remains modestly in the background,
and, after a little hesitation, a more courageous spirit tests
the bowls, and pronounces them empty._
_The Sp. G._ Very well, I will now smoke the spirit-tobacco in these
empty pipes. (_He puts them both in his mouth, and emits a quantity
of unmistakable smoke_.) Now, in case you should imagine this is a
deception, and I produce the smoke from my throat in some manner, will
you kindly try my esoteric tobacco, Sir? (_To a bystander, who, not
without obvious misgivings, takes a few whiffs and produces smoke,
as well as a marked impression upon the most sceptical spectators._)
Having thus proved to you the existence of a Spirit World, allow
me to inform you that this is nothing to the marvels to be seen
inside for the small sum of twopence, where I shall have the honour
of introducing to you Mlle. SCINTILLA, who is not only the most
extraordinary Scientific Wonder of the World, but also the loveliest
woman now living!
_The C.C._ 'Ere, _I'm_ comin' in, I am. I'm on to this. Where's my
friend? he'll pay for _me_. He promised to take care o' me, and I
can't trust myself anywhere without 'im.
[_He enters the Show, followed by the Tall Nonentity, and the
bulk of the bystanders, who feel that the veil is about to
be lifted, and that twopence is not an exorbitant fee for
initiation. Inside is a low Stage, with a roughly painted
Scene, and a kind of small Cabinet, the interior of which is
visible and vacant; behind the barrier which, separates the
Stage from the Audience stands Mlle. SCINTILLA, a young
lady in a crimson silk blouse and a dark skirt, who if
not precisely a Modern Helen, is distinctly attractive and
reassuringly material._
_The C.C._ Oh, I say, if this is a Mahatma, I _like_ 'em!
[_The Sibyl receives this tribute with a smile._
_The Sp. G._ (_appearing on the Stage as Showman_). Now, Ladies and
Gentlemen! (_There is one Lady present, who stands at the side, by
way of indicating that she declines to give the proceedings any
moral support whatever._) You all know that Adepts have the power
of disintegrating material objects and re-integrating them when
they please. I have here a hollow mask. (_He exhibits a Pantomime
demon head._) I place it upon the roof of this cabinet, which as
you perceive is empty. I raise it--and underneath you will see
materialised a wonderful young lady who consists of a head and nothing
else. (_He discovers the head of a very human young person with short
curly hair._) Now those of you who are unmarried would find this young
lady an admirable wife for a man of small income, for, having no body,
she will cost him nothing whatever for her food or frocks.
_The C.C._ (_with a touch of cynicism_). She'd make it up in 'ats and
bonnets, though; trust _'er_!
_The Showman_. She is extremely sweet-tempered; and, when she observes
a number of good-looking gentlemen in the front row, as there are
to-night, she will smile affectionately at them.
[_The Head gives a very practical confirmation of this
assertion, and the Lady in the corner sniffs with strong
disapproval._
_The C.C._ 'Ere, I say--where's my friend? I want to take my 'ook out
o' this--the young Lady's 'ed is a smilin' at me, and it ain't _good_
enough, yer know--she's left too much of herself at 'ome to suit _me_!
_The Showman_ (_after extinguishing the Head, which is giggling
helplessly, in the Mask_). Now this other, young Lady, Mlle.
SCINTILLA, known to her friends as "SPARKS," is equally wonderful in
her way. It may surprise you when I inform you--(_here he puts his arm
affectionately round the Sibyl's neck_)--that, beautiful as she is,
she has never been kissed in her whole life!
_The C.C._ (_with chivalrous indignation_). What? Ere, if _that's_
all!--
[_He intimates, in pantomime, his perfect readiness to repair
this omission at once._
_The Showman_. This is owing to the fact that she is impregnated with
electricity to such an extraordinary degree, that any contact with her
lips will produce a shock which would probably prove fatal!
_The C.C._ Oh, where _is_ that friend o' mine? (_To the Sibyl_.) I
come out without my lightnin' conductor this evenin', Miss; but I've
got a friend somewhere in 'ere as 'll be 'appy to represent me.
[_The Tall Nonentity tries to efface himself, but is relieved
to find that the Sibyl does not take the offer seriously._
_The Showman_. As a proof that I am not speaking without foundation,
this young lady will allow you to feel her hands, when you will at
once become aware of the electric current. [_The Sibyl leans across
the barrier, and tenders a decidedly pretty palm for public pressure,
but there is the usual reluctance at first to embrace the opportunity.
At length a seeker after truth grasps the hand, and reports that
he "can feel a somethink," whereupon his example is followed by the
others, including the_ C.C., _who, finding the sensation agreeable,
pretends to be electrified to such an extent that he is unable to let
go--which concludes the entertainment._
_Spectators_ (_departing_). She _may_ have 'ad one o' them galvanic
belts on for all _you_ can tell. But, mind yer, there's a lot _in_ it,
all the same. Look at the way he brought smoke out o' them clays!
_The C.C._ (_to his Friend_.) That _was_ a lark, JIM! But look
'ere--don't you go tellin' the Missus; _she_ ain't on the Me'atmer
lay--not _much_, she ain't!
* * * * *
[Illustration: HONOURS EASY.
_Sir E.L._ (_gaily_). "BARONETTED? OF COURSE, MY BOY--RIGHT THING TO
DO! THANKS. TA-TA!" [_Careers away, to keep up his circulation._
_Mr. P._ "AND _YOU_, MR. LABBY?"
_H.L._ (_languidly_). "OH--AH--AS FOR _ME_--I'M OUT OF IT--THAT'S THE
TRUTH."]
* * * * *
WOT CHER, LABBY?
["Mr. LABOUCHERE, so he says, has come to London to enjoy the
smiles of the new Ministry."--_Morning Paper_.]
Enjoy them, dear LABBY, smile back, if you can--
Though your lip has a curl that portends something sinister--
It is painful, I take it, to flash in the pan,
While a rival goes off with a bang as a Minister.
But you (you're a cynic, that's one of the ways,
And by no means the worst, to get credit for kindness),
You can smile at this struggle for titles and praise,
You can laugh at your friends while you envy their blindness.
A time, so I fancy you saying, will come;
They are not done with LABBY, for all their sweet smiling;
And they're vastly mistaken who think he'll be dumb,
Or abandon his amiable habit of riling.
* * * * *
"GREAT SCOTT!"--_Mr. Punch's_ congratulations to the new Bart. of
Scott's Bank, Cavendish Square, with the classic name of HORACE. His
friends will be able to adapt MACAULAY's lines, and tell--
"How well HORATIUS kept the Bank,
In the brave days of old."
Of course, be it understood that "keeping the Bank" has nothing
whatever to do with Monte Carlo, or with any game of speculation. _Ad
multos annos!_ And to adapt again--
"On HORACE's head Honours accumulate!"
* * * * *
BALFOUR AND SALISBURY.--The late Government couldn't help having a
good dash of spirit in it, seeing it was a "B. and S." mixture. Now,
"B. and S."--off! _Vide_ _Mr. Punch's_ Cartoon this week.
* * * * *
[Illustration: NEVER SATISFIED.
_Grumpy Husband._ "HOW BADLY INFORMED NEWSPAPERS ARE! WHY, HERE THEY
SAY, 'SIR THOMAS GRIMSBY ENTERTAINED US AND A NUMBER OF OTHERS AT
DINNER LAST NIGHT!' ENTERTAINED! WHY, I NEVER WAS SO BORED IN MY
LIFE!"]
* * * * *
IN OFFICE WITH THE LABOUR VOTE.
(_HOW TO DEAL WITH AN AWKWARD MATTER, ACCORDING TO PRECEDENT._)
SCENE--_A Smoking-Room and Lounge. Eminent Statesman
discovered filling a pipe. Private Secretary in
attendance._
_Em. S._ Now I think all's ready to begin. Mind, my lad, and have the
tea and decanters in readiness when I ring for them. Enough chairs?
_Pri. Sec._ Only half-a-dozen expected, Sir; so I thought if I got six
that would be enough.
_Em. S._ Quite so. And now, my dear fellow, show in the Deputation.
[_Private Secretary opens door, when enter several Workmen in
their Sunday best, headed by Fussy M.P._
_Fussy M.P._ (_with effusion_). My dear Sir, this is a great pleasure.
I hope I see you well. (_Shakes the hand of Eminent Statesman with
profuse cordiality._) And now, if you will allow me, I will introduce
these Delegates. It would have pleased them better if they could have
had an Autumn Session, but they are quite prepared to be satisfied
with an interview, as it is in the Recess. (_Speaking in the soft
tones of the House at Westminster._) Sir! My Right Hon. Friend! It
is my privilege as well as my duty--a most pleasant one--to introduce
what I may aptly declare to be the most representative body of men it
has ever been my good fortune to meet. I, my dear Sir--
_Em. S._ (_interrupting_). Thank you very much, but I fancy we can get
on better by talking it over quietly. It's very hot, so if you don't
mind, I will take off my coat and sit in my shirt-sleeves.
[Illustration]
[_Removes his coat._
_Fussy. M.P._ (_taken aback_). My dear Sir!
_Members of the Deputation_. Thankee, Sir! We'll follow suit.
[_They remove their coats._
_Em. S._ Now you would like to smoke? Well, my Private Secretary will
hand round cigars, cigarettes, and tobacco. Don't be shy, Consider my
house Liberty Hall. Well, tell me--what's it all about?
_First Mem. of Dep._ (_pointing to Fussy M.P._) Why he said as how he
would do all the speaking.
_Em. S._ Very likely, and do it (_bowing to him_) very well. But I
would far rather that you should speak for yourselves. Come let us
meet as old friends. Now--what do you want?
_Second Mem. of Dep._ Why, Sir, if you put it in that pleasant way, I
may say, payment for hours of labour put in by some one else.
_Em. S._ Yes, very good. Capital notion. But how are you to manage it?
_Third Mem. of Dep._ (_roughly_). That's your business, and not ours.
We tell you what we want, and you have to carry out our wishes.
_Em. S._ (_smiling_). You mean the wishes of your class--your order?
_Second Mem._ Well, that's about it. We _do_ represent them. Why we
are sent to you by over 100,000!
_Em. S._ And what is the full complement of your combined trades?
_Second Mem._ About nine millions, but that has nothing to do with it.
_Em. S._ With it! Do with what?
_First Mem. of Dep._ Why, what we require, Right Hon. Sir--what we
require!
_Em. S._ (_amiably_). And that is--?
_First Mem. of Dep._ (_triumphantly_). Oh, you must tell us that! It
is not our place, but yours--see?
_Em. S._ Not exactly. But will you not join me? (_Offers cigarettes._)
And now let us get at the heart of the question. Who is to do your
work for you?
_First Mem. of Dep._ (_puffing at the tobacco_). Don't you think that
could be done by the Government?
_Em. S._ _I_ don't know. I am delighted to see you, because it is with
your assistance that I propose mastering the details of the matter.
But you really must help me.
_Second Mem. of Dep._ (_taken aback_). But, I say, Sir, is this quite
fair? We are accustomed to put up someone such as he (_pointing to
the_ Fussy M.P.), and leave it to him to do all the talking.
_Em. S._ Yes, I know the old-fashioned plan; but I prefer the new.
Pray go on. How will you get your work done gratuitously?
_Fourth Mem._ Oh, come! That's putting it a little too strong! We are
not accustomed to it. What does it all mean?
_Em. S._ I think I can answer you. My good friends, until you can get
an idea of what you really want, you can do nothing--nor can I. So
now, if you have another appointment to keep, please don't let me
detain you. All I can wish you I do wish you. May you all prosper in
your undertakings. And now, farewell!
_First Mem._ Well, Sir, if you won't see us any more, good-bye!
_Em. S._ Good-bye! Mind the steps! Good-bye! [_The Deputation leave._
Eminent Statesman _turns his attention to other matters with a smile
of satisfaction._
* * * * *
"EXCELSIOR! OR STRAIGHT UP!"--Sir DOUGLAS STRAIGHT was knighted last
week. N.B.--Would have been mentioned earlier, if we had had the
straight tip.
* * * * *
'ARRY IN VENICE.
[Illustration]
DEAR CHARLIE,--'Ow 'ops it, my 'earty? Yours truly's still stived
up in Town.
Won't run to a 'oliday yet, mate. I'm longing to lay on the brown
By a blow from the briny, but, bless yer, things now is as bad as
they're made.
Hinfluenzas, Helections, and cetrer, has bloomin' nigh bunnicked
up Trade.
_My_ screw's bin cut down by a dollar; along of 'ard times, sez
our bloke.
I _did_ mean doin' It'ly this year; but sez Luck, "Oh, go 'ome and
eat coke!"
Leastways, that's as I hunderstand 'er. A narsty one, Luck, and no
kid;
Always gives yer the rough of 'er tongue when you're quisby, or
short of a quid.
When I 'eard about Venice in London, I thinks to myself, mate,
thinks I,
'Ere's a 'oliday tour on the cheap! 'Ere's a barney as 'ARRY must
try.
No Continong this year, that's certain, old man, for the likes of
poor me;
But whilst I've a bob I've a chance for a boss at the Bride o' the
Sea.
Them posters of IMRE KIRALFY's for gorgeousness quite takes the
cake.
Friend IMRE's a spanker, you bet, and quite fly to the popular fake.
"Stupendious work," IMRE calls it, and I.K. is O.K. no doubt.
Your old Country Fair Show takes a back seat when ikey young
I.K.'s about.
Oh, the jam and the mustard, my pippin, the crimsing, the blue,
and the gold!
Scissorree, CHARLIE, rainbows ain't in it, and prisums is out in
the cold.
I do like a picteresk poster, as big as a bloomin' back yard,
With the colour slopped on quite regardless; if that ain't 'Igh
'Art, wy it's 'ard.
'Owsomever I mustn't feeloserphise. Off to Olympia I 'ooks,
To see Venice the Bride of the Sea, as set forth in them sixpenny
books.
Bless his twirly merstache, he's a twicer, this IMRE KIRALFY, dear
boy,
And he give me a two hours' _spektarkle_ old LEIGHTON hisself
might enjoy.
Bit puzzling the "Pageant" is, CHARLIE, until that Synopsis you've
read;
Wish I'd mugged it all up overnight; but I carn't get it straight
in my 'ead.
Sort o' mixture of _Shylock_ and BYRON, with bits of _Othello_
chucked in,
Muddled up with "Chioggian wars," as seemed mostly blue fire and
bright tin.
But the scenes wos 'splendiferous, CHARLIE. About arf a mile o'
stage front,
With some thousands of 'eroes and supers, as seemed all the time
on the 'unt.
Lor! 'ow they did scoot up and down that there stage at the
double, old man,
All their legs on the waggle, like flies, and their armour a-chink
as they ran!
Old _Shylock_ turns up quite permiskus, and always upon the full
trot;
He seemed mixed up with Portias, and Doges, smart gals, and the
dickens knows wot.
All kep waving their arms like mad semy-phores, doin' the akrybat
prank,
As if they was swimming in nothink, or 'ailing a 'bus for the Bank.
I sez to a party beside me, "Old man, wot the doose does it _mean_?"
Sez he, "A dry attic, yer know, of wich Venice, yer see, wos the
Queen.
That cove in a nightcap's the Doge; for an old 'un he _can_ move
about.
They had G.O.M.'s, mate, in Venice; of that there is not the least
doubt.
"That's VETTORE PISANI, the Hadmiral; t'other is General ZENO
Defending the State, I persoom, and they're 'aving a fust-class
old beano.
Wy PEDRO THE SECOND, of Cyprus, and _Portia_ is made a rum blend
With Turps Siccory's Revels, and so on, no doubt we shall twig at
the hend."
I sez, "Thankee! that's werry instructive. You _do_ know a lot,
mate, _you_ do!"
Then the fight at Chioggia came on. Sech a rum pully-haully all
through.
But the Victory Percession wos proper, and so was the All Frisky
_feet_,
And the way as they worked the gondolers, them streaky-legged
chaps, wos a treat.
But the best o' the barney came arter. I took a gondoler, old man,
Sort o' wobbly black coffin afloat, and perpelled on the rummiest
plan
With one oar and a kind of notched post. But a dressy young party
in pink
'Ad a seat in my ship, and seemed skeery. _I_ cheered 'er up--wot
do _you_ think?
"No danger," sez I, "not a mossel! Now is there, old lollipop-legs?
Sit 'ere, Miss, and trim the old barky! Go gently now, young
'Am-and-Eggs!
'Ow much for yer mustard-striped kicksies? Way-oh! Wy, you nearly
run down
The Ryhalto that time, you young josser. Look hout, Miss, he'll
crack your sweet crown!"
_Larf_, CHARLIE? She did a fair chortle. I _'ave_ sech a way with
the shes.
We 'ad six sixpennorths together--I tell you 'twos go-as-you-please!
Modern Venice, took out of a toy-box, with palaces fourteen foot
'igh.
And Bridges o' Sighs cut in pasteboard, is larks all the same, and
no fly.
Sort o' cosy romanticky feeling a-paddling along them canals,
With the manderlines twangling all round, and the larf of the
gayest of gals
Gurgling up through the Hightalian hair--though it do 'ave a
cockneyfied sniff,--
Wy it's better than spooning at Marlow with MOLLY MOLLOY in a skiff.
I felt like Lord BYRON, I tell yer; I stretched myself, orty-like,
hout,
And wished it could go on all night, wich my pardner did ditto, no
doubt.
Modern Venice in minichure, CHARLIE, ain't really so dusty, you bet;
I wos quite a Bassanio in breeks, and I ain't lost the twang of it
yet.
_My_ Portia wos POLLY MARIA; she tipped me her name fair and free;
And a pootier young mossel o' muslin, I never 'ad perch on _my_
knee.
No side on 'er, nothink lowlived, CHARLIE, ladylike down to the
ground,
I called 'er my fair "Bride of Venice." In fact, we wos 'appy all
round.
She said _I_ wos _'er_ form to a hounce, and if anyone looked more
O.K.,
In a nobby Gondoler than me, well that chap 'adn't travelled _'er_
way;
Wich wos Barnsbury Park--so she whispered, with _sech_ a sly
giggle, dear boy!
I sez "Bully for IMRE KIRALFY! His Show is a thing to henjoy!"
And so it is, CHARLIE, old hoyster. The music is twangly, I own,
And if I've a fancy myself, 'taint hexactly the Great Xylophone;
But the speeches of musical scratch-backs the dancers keep time
with so pat,
In that fairy-like Carnival Bally, fetched POLLY, ah, all round
'er 'at!
That 'at wos a spanker, I tell yer; as big as the Doge's
State-Barge,
And like all the "Four Seasons" in one! "Well," sez POLLY, "I _do_
like 'em large,
Them Venetian pork-pies ain't _my_ fancy, no room for no trimmings
above.
They wouldn't suit Barnsbury Park, though they might do 'The
Castle of Love'!"
Sort o' needled her somehow, I fancy; but, bless yer, I soon put
_that_ straight.
Gals is wonderful touchy on togs! Covent Garden piled high on a
plate
With a blue hostrich-feather all round it, mayn't be man's hidea
of a tile,
But I flattered her taste a rare bat, and soon 'ad her again on
the smile.
Well, "Venice the Bride of the Sea," is wuth more than one visit,
old pal,
And I've got a hengagement next week to go there with the same
pooty gal.
I'm going to read up the subjeck, I'll cram for it all I can carry,
For I'm bound to be fair, in the know if young POLLY should question
Yours, 'ARRY.
* * * * *
INNS AND OUTS.
NO. I.--"MISTER."
In a "Grand Hotel" again; abroad; never mind which or where; have
experienced many Inns and many outings, but find all Grand Hotels much
the same. "Lawn-tennis, English Church in the Spa_t_ious Grounds, good
station for friends of the _Fisch-Sport_."--But the quintessence of
Grand-Hotelism is "Mr." in his Bureau.
The main thing about "Mr." is his frock-coat ("made in Germany"). It
is always buttoned; he is never without it; I believe he sleeps in
it. Divest him of this magician's robe (so to speak) and he would be
powerless.
The Hotel omnibus clatters in; "Mr." confronts us, smiling and serene,
with his two Secretaries of Legation. He discriminates the Inn-comers
at a glance.--"Numero 10, 11, 12, _entresol_;" for Noah-like
Paterfamilias with Caravan; "Numero 656, for se Leddy's med;" "Numero
80, for me, the _soi-disant Habitue_;" it's the room I'm _supposed_ to
have always had, so I pretend to like it. One Unremunerative-looking
Pedestrian, in knickerbockers, is assured that, if he waits half a
day or so, he may get an attic--"Back of se house; fine view of se
sluice-gate and cemetery."--U.-L.P. expostulates; he has telegraphed
for a good room; it's _too_ bad.--"Ver' sawy, but is quite complete
now, se Hotel." U.-L.P., furious; "Hang it," &c. "Mr." deprecates this
ingratitude--"Ver' sawy, Sor; but if you don't like," (with decision),
"se whole wide wurrld is open to you!" Pedestrian retires, threatening
to write to the _Times_. Preposterous! as if the Editor would print
anything against "Mr."! "Mr.'s" attitude majestic and martyred;
CASABIANCA in a frock-coat! Bless you! he knows us all, better than
we know ourselves. He sees the Cook's ticket through the U.-L.P.'s
Norfolk-jacket.