1947 ad: Jellyback Jim

That can’t be my son! I’m Gustav Mahler, and I died childless! Once again, everyone knows the kid’s insulting nickname. Once again, the father feels his own manhood retract at the sight of his pathetic spawn. Once again, he blames his wife – but this time she fires back: you expect me to jam food down his throat? That’s the problem, after all: not lack of exercise, or poor genes, or disinterest in athletics. Insufficient food, that’s the problem.

Once again, we pick up the conversation with Wonder Nurse towards the end, the essential points having been communicated. The result? You can guess . . .