They don’t spare the rod in Perth


And doesn’t he look happy about it

Today Dodgy Perth answers that difficult question: Is it okay to hit 17 year old girls? In the 1920s The Mirror used to run an advice column. Readers would send in their problems and the following week other readers would offer their opinions.

Today, we offer a problem and advice from 1928:

Up to what age should a father spank his daughter?

I have a daughter who is nearly 18, and lately I have had to speak to her several times regarding the late hours she keeps but she takes no notice.

I am now seriously considering asking her father to apply the slipper but I am afraid he would refuse on the grounds that she is now too old to be spanked.

There does not seem to be any other way to enforce parental authority. What should I do?

Yours etc, ‘Mother of Five,’ (East Perth).

The answers were consistent.

‘Mother of Five’ has a perfect right to ask her husband to spank her seventeen-year-old daughter if she won’t do what she is told and refuses to correct her bad habits.

Spanking isn’t a matter of age; it’s a matter of common sense and girls should be spanked until they have sufficient common sense to be able to get along without the strap.

Yours, ‘Twenty-one,’ (Subiaco).

Another mother wrote:

I take the opportunity of giving the lady a little advice on this most important subject, which as far as spanking children is concerned, is as old as the hills.

If the girl of nearly 18 years old did not do as I told her and she treated me with so much contempt I would not go to her father to perform the operation of spanking her.

I should take the pleasure of getting a cane about 18 inches long and put her across my knee, and use it to such an extent that it would sting and hurt, and give her something to remember.

Don’t think she is too old to punish at 18, don’t hesitate about it, and you will get the respect all the sooner from your daughter.

Yours etc., ‘Another Mother.’

Anyway. So now you know.

Fifty Shades, 1940s style


Obviously I’m not doing this for my own good

Today, we go all Dodgy Sydney on you. Why are we abandoning the pleasant sunny shores of Western Australia? Well might you ask. You did ask, didn’t you?

The answer is simple. This letter sent by a serving WWII RAAF officer to his wife back in Sydney is just too good not to share.

Put on your pyjamas. Sit up in bed with a cocoa. And prepare to have Norman Robinson go full-on Fifty Shades on Gloria Constance Robinson:

As you know, dear, married couples often finish up in the Divorce Court through spanking, and in all these cases, dear, I think it’s because the female does not understand the male. She fails to see spanking as an expression of love.

Spanking is introduced into a marriage to terminate an argument, and the husband experiences great heights of exquisite delight and finds an outlet and gives expression to his fierce love for his wife.

The wife (being her first spanking probably since she was a child) experiences only the indignity of it and the physical pain.

But the husband has now found an outlet for his fierce love for his wife, and so he makes mountains out of molehills in order to obtain an excuse to spank her, with the result that the wife finds herself being spanked for every little thing she says or does.

The husband finds he has to spank her harder and longer to get the required results. The husband has to spank his wife for probably ten or more minutes before he begins to feel any reaction.

Darling, if you or any woman could experience the exquisite delight a husband gets from spanking his wife you would submit as often as you were physically capable.

Complete harmony, dear, could be obtained, I think, by regulating the spankings to a minimum of about one per week. If love required, twice weekly.

In our case, dear, as I said in the other letter, I would be fully prepared, should you feel the inclination, to bend over your knee, or lie face downward.

Trouble in an Inglewood paradise


This was once considered porn. Seriously.

Today’s Dodgy Perth deals with a delicate story. As a consequence, we will use first names only. The protagonists are certainly deceased, but we wish to minimise the chance of young descendants stumbling across Great Grandma in this particular setting while researching family history for a school project.

Let us introduce Violet and Geoffrey . She grew up in North Perth and he in Inglewood. Both were born around the time of World War I.

Geoff was tall, broad-shouldered, olive-skinned, wavy-haired, and mustachioed. Looking every inch like a sportsman, he cut a handsome figure in his natty, gold-braided Flying Squadron blazer.

Violet was dainty, but extremely pretty with her raven black hair and noticeably high heels.

Their parents must have been delighted when the young couple met, fell in love, and married in 1940. It seems likely that the pair moved in with Geoff’s mother in Crawford Road, directly opposite Inglewood Primary School. (The house still stands, not looking at all like a home for what follows.)

Her parents were probably less than ecstatic when the following year Geoff was convicted of theft. Oh well. Newlyweds always have a few problems at first. But the problems kept coming for poor Violet.

It turned out the Geoff had a bit of a thing for laying her across his knee and spanking her bare bottom. Perhaps she could have lived with this if it wasn’t for Geoff’s habit of collecting pictures of men and women in (let us say) unusual poses and demanding that Violet act out the scenes with him.

No matter how many times she burned his stash of photographs, Geoff always seemed to be able to find more. When Violet finally cracked and threatened to take the porn stash to the police, Geoff blackmailed her by claiming he had taken photos of her sleeping. If she said anything, these would find their way into the public gaze.

In the divorce court in 1943, Geoff got a chance to put his side of the story. “I am not a sexual pervert”, he protested. “Every time we went to bed I was always too tired and wanted to go to sleep.”

In any case, Violet was difficult to live with, he claimed, alleging that his petite wife had hurled a heavy engineer’s hammer at his head, and made him beg on his knees just to get his trousers mended.

No one believed him, and maintenance was fixed at £2 10s a week.