THE AGE SATURDAY 1, 1930
Fred and his wife and his two children had been amongst the last of the holidaymakers to walk past the nymph. They were taking the path to the tram, and Fred had noticed the nymph with the yellow glow of evening on her shoulders. "Look my dear! Rather fine I think," he said to his wife."Who is it? A Greek lady I suppose." "Mother there's her name, P-a-u-l M-o-n-t-f-o-r-d." "Oh no, no Rose, that's the man who cut it, I'm sure."
"Fred do you really like statues in the nude?"
"What my dear. King Edward did you say? Yes his statue's just near here."
Allan, don't throw the orange peel into the pond; give it to your mother. And Queen Victoria, she's somewhere near here.
Always think it a pity they didn't put a statue of poor old Albert near her."
Now, Fred, Victoria is what I do call a good woman. But as for this creature.
I'm surprised that the City Council allows it.