C. J. Dennis, who would have been 133 about a week ago, once wrote that, as a small boy, he had 'a devout and urgent desire to become a larrikin'. This might have been because his four maiden aunts dressed him in starched suits, Eton collars, a cap, patent leather shoes and brown gloves in which he carried a cane.
And his name was Clarence — all in all, the perfect recipe for small boy torture in a remote country town. As soon as he could, Dennis dropped the 'Clarence' and became known universally as Den.
As he grew up, Dennis drifted unsuccessfully through a range of jobs including working in his father's Laura pub, the Beetaloo. Spilt beer and smashed glasses convinced everyone that he was not cut out by nature to be a barman.
In the new century, after some editorial ventures in Adelaide, he finished up in Toolangi, north east of Melbourne, depressed and broke.
It was during this time that he brought the Sentimental Bloke into existence and, in line with Dennis's own low spirits, the Bloke comes on the scene not triumphantly but in a state of puzzled gloom.
The world 'as got me snouted jist a treat;
Cruel forchin's dirty left 'as smote me soul;
'An all them joys o' life I 'eld so sweet
Is up the pole.
What he can't understand is why he feels so down. But gradually it dawns on him that it's spring time and he hasn't got a girl.
It seems to me I'm kind er lookin' for
A tart I knoo a hundred years ago,
Or maybe more.
Wot's this I've 'eard 'em call that thing? ... Geewhizz
Me ideel bit o' skirt! That's wot it is!
The street lore offers a way out of his confusion:
Aw, spare me days,
If this 'ere silly feelin' doesn't stop
I'll lose me block and stoush some flamin' cop!
But he does meet her — his ideal bit o' skirt. 'Er name's Doreen ...'
Head over heels in love the Bloke abandons his rough mates, the booze and the life of the streets only to find himself in — of all places — a theatre, sitting in velvet seats to see a play! Love conquers all.
The Sentimental Bloke is a wonderful example of just how good Dennis was at writing verse in 'slanguage' as he put it, chronicling the ordinary man's experience of those times in the language of everyday: the gang warfare on Melbourne's