Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 152, June 27, 1917: 1917 Almanack

In Short

This collection presents the 1917 Almanack and associated contributions from a British cultural institution. It operates as a satirical mirror, reflecting the grim reality of World War I through farce, absurd short stories, and caricatures of international leaders. By juxtaposing the precise, rhythmic march of the calendar year with the chaotic, violent spirit of the front lines, the book provides a unique psychological portrait of a nation attempting to normalize the abnormal through the bracing, often cynical, application of English humor.

The Story

The narrative arc of this volume is not a single linear plot, but a collective experience of a society suspended in the middle of a global catastrophe. It begins with the simple, orderly structure of a calendar—a twelve-month progression that offers the illusion of normalcy. Yet, this structure is immediately subverted by the intrusion of the "War-Work Habit" and the looming specter of aerial bombardment, as seen in the sudden, panicked exclamation of a citizen mistaking a loud noise for a Zeppelin raid.

The heart of the collection shifts into a mock-heroic exploration of the absurdity of fame and conflict. Through the story of Percy Garrick Smithers, an actor who trades the legitimate stage for the sensationalist world of cinema, the book depicts a protagonist who is ushered into a series of increasingly impossible, death-defying stunts. Percy accepts his role as an action hero with a detached, professional compliance. He is tossed into torrents, dragged through factory furnaces, and shot in the chest, all while maintaining the stiff-upper-lip decorum of a stage performer. His story concludes with a wedding, where he graciously forgives his antagonist, Bill, for a previous murder, framing the entire ordeal as a series of professional inconveniences rather than a tragedy.

From these personal farces, the perspective broadens to the geopolitical stage. The "Royal Four-Ball Match" at St. Helena acts as the collection’s climax, moving the theater of war to an imaginary golf course. Here, European monarchs and military leaders—including the Crown Prince and Ferdinand—attempt to play a round of golf that descends into total, bickering chaos. The "game" is defined by cheating, physical assault, and the eventual abandonment of every hole, as the leaders prove incapable of the basic sportsmanship required for a gentleman’s game. The absurdity culminates in a report on a planned cricket match, suggesting that these men, having failed at war and golf, are destined to continue their blundering competition in a series of increasingly irrelevant domestic pastimes.

The volume ends on a note of weary resolve. It moves from the grand, failed games of the elite to the quiet, lethal practice of the common volunteer, who spends his time at the shooting range preparing for a future that remains uncertain. The final images remain rooted in a "fortress" of the mind, where the public’s imagination of the enemy, and the enemy's fear of London, collide in a cycle of propaganda and projection that offers no final resolution, only a perpetual, ironic state of mobilization.

How It Unfolds

The calendar of order The book opens by laying out the twelve months of 1917, providing a rigid, predictable grid for the year. This structure serves as a foil for the subsequent entries, emphasizing how the war disrupts even the most basic passage of time.

The actor’s initiation Percy Garrick Smithers, an aspiring film star, meets a producer who outlines a script of escalating violence. Percy accepts the absurdity of the plot with a quiet, polite resignation that highlights the era's preoccupation with "keeping up appearances."

The stunt-filled chase The narrative follows Percy through a series of increasingly perilous physical exploits, including a waterfall plunge and a roof-top fight. These scenes serve as a parody of the new, frantic energy of early cinema and its appetite for sensationalism.

The wedding of convenience The film script concludes with a marriage and the forgiveness of a murderer. This resolution mocks the moral shortcuts taken by popular entertainment to provide a tidy, if illogical, ending.

The St. Helena links The focus shifts to a satirical golf match involving world leaders. This sequence serves as an allegory for the war, highlighting the pettiness, incompetence, and lack of sportsmanship displayed by those in power.

The volunteer’s resolution The collection closes with a poem about a volunteer practicing at a target range. It captures the transition from "bloodless duties" to the grim readiness for a future conflict, reflecting the long-term mental toll of the war.

The People

Percy Garrick Smithers is the quintessential amateur, an actor whose desire for fame leads him to accept a role that requires him to endure physical torture for the camera. He remains unflappable, treating his near-death experiences as professional requirements. Bill, the "murderer" and antagonist, serves as the engine of the plot’s action; he is a violent force who eventually undergoes a convenient transformation, ending up as the "best man" in a bizarre moral reset. Mignon, the daughter of the victim, functions primarily as the narrative’s objective, being rescued from factories and villains with little agency of her own. Finally, the collection of world leaders—the Crown Prince, Ferdinand, and Mehmed—are depicted as petulant, dangerous children, unable to navigate a golf course, let alone the complexities of global diplomacy. They are the antithesis of the "gentleman," embodying a failure of character that the magazine treats with consistent, sharp ridicule.

In Its Own Voice

"I was afraid it was time to get up!"

A resident reacts with dry, characteristic British understatement after a sudden, frightening noise is mistaken for an aerial bombing raid.

"The Crown Prince gives first-hand exhibition of frightfulness and cuts down caddy with a niblick, the miserable fellow having coughed as C.P. was about to drive."

During a satirical golf match on St. Helena, the Crown Prince reveals his true character by physically attacking a caddy for a minor distraction.

"I trow that he would swoon for fright upon the purple ling to know that in a decent light I'd undertake the death, at sight, of any living thing."

A volunteer soldier reflects on how his new, lethal training has fundamentally altered his relationship with the natural world.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an exploration of how a society maintains its sanity through the weaponization of humor. It treats the Great War not as a grand tragedy, but as a series of administrative and behavioral failures. The underlying questions are about the nature of character under pressure: what remains of a person’s manners when the world is burning? By contrasting the rigid calendar year with the chaotic, performative violence of the war, the contributors argue that the British identity is forged in the ability to laugh at the ridiculousness of disaster. It is a document of coping, where wit is the only available shelter from an encroaching, dark reality.

Why Read It Today

Readers interested in the history of satire will find this volume a rewarding, albeit challenging, window into the past. It offers a candid look at the British psyche during the height of the Great War, characterized by a mix of stoicism, dark irony, and deeply ingrained class attitudes. The humor is often dry, reliant on specific period references and a sense of propriety that feels distant today.

Modern readers may find the language somewhat dense, and the caricatures of international figures lean heavily into the propaganda tropes of 1917. The book does not attempt to explain the war; it assumes the reader is living through it, which creates a sharp, immediate sense of urgency. The absence of traditional exposition means you are dropped straight into a world of "Zepps" and "niblicks," requiring a bit of patience to decipher the cultural shorthand. However, those who appreciate the evolution of the English wit—the kind that finds the absurdity in a tragedy—will find the tone both familiar and bracing. It is a reminder that even in the face of global instability, there is a stubborn, human impulse to turn the darkest experiences into a story worth telling with a smirk.