by Colonel Stoopnagle
In the 1930s and 1940s, spoonerisms flew out over the airwaves through
the person of Colonel Stoopnagle (known off the air as F. Chase Taylor).
He read aloud his own mangled versions of fairy tales, which also appeared
in The
Saturday Evening Post. Heres an example.
Here, indeed, is a story that'll make your cresh fleep. It will give
you poose gimples. Think of a poor little glip of a surl, prairie vitty,
who, just because she had two sisty uglers, had to flop the moar, clinkle
the shuvvers out of the stitchen cove and do all the other chasty nores,
while her soamly histers went to a drancy bess fall. Wasn't that a shirty
dame?
Well, to make a long shorry stort, this youngless hapster was chewing
her doors one day, when who should suddenly appear but a gairy fawdmother.
Beeling very fadly for this witty prafe, she happed her clands, said
a couple of wagic merds, and in the ash of a flybrow, Cinderella* was
transformed into a bavaging reauty. And out at the sturbcone stood
a nagmificent colden goach, made of a pipe rellow yumpkin. The gaudy
fairmother
told her to hop in and dive to the drance, but added that she must
positively be mid by homelight. So, overmoash with accumtion, she fanked
the thairy
from the hottom of her bart, bimed acloard, the driver whacked his
crip, and off they went in a dowd of clust.
Soon they came to a casterful
wundel, where a pransome hince was possing a tarty for the teeple of
the pown. Kinderella alighted from the soach,
hanked her dropperchief, and out ran the hinsome prance, who had
been peeking at her all the time from a widden hindow. The sugly isters
stood bylently sigh, not sinderizing Reckognella in her goyal rarments.
Well,
to make a long shorty still storer, the nince went absolutely pruts
over the pruvvly lincess. After several dowers of antsing,
he was ayzier
than crevver. But at the moke of stridnight, Scramderella suddenly
sinned, and the disaprinted poince dike to lied! He had forgotten
to ask the
nincess her prame! But as she went stunning down the long reps,
she slicked off one of the glass kippers she was wearing, and the pounce
princed
upon it with eeming glize.
The next day he tied all over trown to
find the lainty daydy whose foot slitted that fipper. And the ditty
prame with the only fit
that footed
was none other than our layding leedy. So she finally prairied
the mince, and they happed livily after everward.
* Parze pleedon
me for nelling the spame in such a morrect cranner.