"In Denmark," said the man of ideas, coming into the smoking room, "I see that they have original ideas on the subject of advertising. According to the usually well-informed Daily Lyre, all 'bombastic' advertising is punished with a fine. The advertiser is expected to describe his wares in restrained, modest language. In case this idea should be introduced into England, I have drawn up a few specimen advertisements which, in my opinion, combine attractiveness with a shrinking modesty at which no censor could cavil."
And in spite of our protests, he began to read us his first effort, descriptive of a patent medicine.
"It runs like this," he said:
Timson's Tonic for Distracted Deadbeats
Has been known to cure
We Hate to Seem to Boast,
but
Many Who have Tried It Are Still
Alive
Take a Dose or Two in Your Spare Time
It's Not Bad Stuff
Read what an outside stockbroker says:
"Sir—After three months' steady absorption of your Tonic
I was no worse."
We do not wish to thrust ourselves forward in any way. If you prefer other medicines, by all means take them. Only we just thought we'd mention it—casually, as it were—that TIMSON'S is PRETTY GOOD.
"How's that?" inquired the man of ideas. "Attractive, I fancy, without being bombastic. Now, one about a new novel. Ready?"
MR. LUCIEN LOGROLLER'S LATEST
The Dyspepsia of the Soul
The Dyspepsia of the Soul
The Dyspepsia of the Soul
Don't buy it if you don't want to, but just listen to a few of the criticisms.
THE DYSPEPSIA OF THE SOUL
"Rather … rubbish."—Spectator
"We advise all insomniacs to read Mr. Logroller's soporific pages."—Outlook
"Rot."—Pelican
THE DYSPEPSIA OF THE SOUL
Already in its first edition.
"What do you think of that?" asked the man of ideas.
We told him.
