Captain Billy's Whiz Bang, January 1921 · page 19 of 68
Captain Billy's Whiz Bang #16 — page 19: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page from *Captain Billy's Whiz Bang* (a 1920s American humor magazine) presents a first-person humorous account of an unexpected bathing experience in India. The narrative exploits common satirical tropes of the era: **The Joke**: A Western traveler seeking a "Durbar bath" (a reference to a royal pageant) encounters traditional Indian bathing practices that shock his Victorian sensibilities—specifically, female attendants who bathe male clients as part of standard service. His prudish reaction to nudity contrasts with the matter-of-fact professionalism of the Indian staff. **Social Context**: The humor relies on: - Orientalist assumptions about "exotic" India - Western discomfort with non-Western bathing customs - The incongruity between the narrator's expectations and reality - Casual references to female nudity as comedic material **References**: "Falstaff" (Shakespeare's rotund character), "September Morn" (a 1912 painting frequently used in period humor involving female nudity), and "sweet sixteen" reinforce the sexualized tone typical of 1920s men's magazines. The satire targets the narrator's prudishness rather than Indian culture, though modern readers would note the era's casual exoticization and objectification.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Captain Billy's Whiz Bang 17 India is a hot and sticky place for fleshy people, and like Falstaff I was larding the lean earth as I walked along. After hours of dusty driving and hard sight-seeing I asked my guide if I could have a bath, and he said, “Yes, Durbar bath.” I had missed the royal pageant, but hoped to get the splash, so we drove off the crowded street to a building which invited us with shady walks and flowers. The native proprietor ushered me into a darkened room and handed me a napkin. I had been in India long enough to know what to do with that square of linen, so I used it for a loin-cloth. When I stepped into the bath I was “horrified” to find a beautiful Mohammedan maiden standing there before me with nothing on plus a bracelet. In agita-tion I rang. The master came, and I told him I did not want that woman there with the bath. He seemed surprised, because she was part of it, shrugged his shoulders, ordered her out, and beckoned to two stal-wart natives. They seized me, threw me down on the marble, put a wooden pillow under my head, and then splashed, massaged, pounded, twisted and kneeded me, worked my arms like a windmill, rolled me like a log, used me as a punching bag, went through a whole course of gymnasium exercises on me, then grinned and said, “Not finished.” I felt I was, when back came the “sweet sixteen” smiling like Spring, and with less covering than September Morn. I sprang up, but she grabbed a towel and basin and laid me low, then soused me and began to put on the finishing touches. In broken English she tried to tell me all her