The colloquial Australian-English phrase to put on jam, also to lay on jam, means: to adopt an affected speech or manner, to display self-importance.
In early use at least, this phrase also meant: to embellish the truth, to depict flatteringly—cf. below, quotations 9 & 19, as well as the following from an account of the Brisbane Grammar School Annual Athletic sports meeting held on Saturday 27th September 1884, published in the Queensland Figaro (Brisbane, Queensland, Australia) of Saturday 4th October 1884 [page 422, column 3]:
I am not one of those recorders who believe in the notion of laying on jam indiscriminately, utterly regardless of fact, and I must here state that the Courier’s report of the meeting is as misleading as it is flattering.
The earliest occurrences that I have found of to put on jam, also to lay on jam, are as follows, in chronological order:
—Note: in several of the texts, the phrase is of obscure meaning:
1-: From the column Pepper and Salt, published in The Bulletin (Sydney, New South Wales, Australia) of Saturday 19th March 1881 [Vol. 5, No. 60, page 8, column 4]:
She was a lovely maid from the Point de Potts (that sounds more refined than the old title), and as she lightly skipped into a ’bus near Punch’s, her bright refulgent charms smote the too-susceptible heart of Alphonso Jinkins, with a smote like unto that from the heels of a circus jackass. In an instant his schemes were laid. He would follow up, and woo his heart’s enslaver even at the cost of life, and a ’bus ticket. Two seconds later, and he was at his lady’s feet; they had the whole of the licensed hearse to themselves, and long ere the sonorous hoofs of its animated crow-roosts struck the marble streets of Woolloomooloo, the happy pair were revelling up to their ears in all the ecstatic bliss of their maiden love. For years Alphonso had sighed for Maude, but faltering tongue refused to tell what his fond heart felt; and now Maude, overcome by the presence of a princely suitor clad in patent leather boots and a black moustache, gave herself wholly up to the intoxication of this celestial joy, and as her fair head left its track on Alphonso’s clean shirt, she lifted up her radiant orbs to his, and positively kicked with fond delight. They had a healthy time of it, until the ’bus reached Dan. Robinson’s hotel, and here they were joined by a dumpy, vulgar-looking, red-faced little woman, armed to the teeth with parcels, and she had hardly flopped down on her seat before she exclaimed: “Why, goodness gracious, Doodie, however did you get away from the bank so soon! Lor’!—but I’m glad I met you. I nearly bust me blessed biler a luggin’ up this ’ere perambylatur and these duds for Johnnie, and parygoric for baby, and ’eaven knows what else; but I’ll get you to carry the perambylatur, and the cockatoo cage, and dried apples. An’, do you know, Doodie, I’ve been down to ole Mrs. M‘Googirty’s, an’ I tole her straight I’d hev to send you down to bring ’ome the washin’ in fuchir, becos her kids are so orful careless—yes—and now your’e [sic] getting home early, Doodie, I think we’ll fix up that stove, and give the kitchen a coat of whitewash.” During the whole of this chat, Doodie remained as silent and still as a baked potato, and when his awful, lawful wife reached over to wipe a violet-powder smudge from off his classic nose, Maude rushed out of the car, and gave the pair one look from her flashing eyes that would have set fire to a wet bag of guano. And the heart of Alphonso was filled with unutterable woe as Mrs. Alphonso looked out, and said: “Puts on jam, don’t she, Doodie ? An’, after all, it’s only a ninepenny pompadour skirt.”
2-: From the column Table Talk, by ‘Jack Gardiner, Esq., M. L. A.’, published in the Melbourne Punch (Melbourne, Victoria, Australia) of Thursday 14th April 1881 [page 149, column 2]:
“Mary had a little sheep
That used to put on ‘jam,’
And when the summer time came round
It had a little lamb.”
3-: From one of the unconnected paragraphs making up The N. T. Bulletin, published in the Northern Territory Times and Gazette (Darwin, Northern Territory, Australia) of Saturday 18th June 1881 [Vol. 7, No. 401, page 2, column 4]:
Wasn’t W. C. the younger putting on jam last Sunday night.
4-: From the Sydney Punch (Sydney, New South Wales, Australia) of Saturday 16th July 1881 [page 23, column 2]:
Slang of the Girl of the Period.
“My blooming rose,” said a young lady in a conservatory.
“That’s a nasty jar” for the Civil Servant who indulged in practical jokes.
“Didn’t he put on the jam” said Mary to Alice after a stolen interview.
“Wire in and dress quickly or we shall be too late.”
“Now, look spiff, he’s coming round the corner.”
5-: From an anonymous pamphlet, known as the Sydney Slang Dictionary (Sydney: H. J. Franklin, [c. 1882]) [page 5, column 1]—source: Australian Lexicography 1880—1910: An Evaluation (A Thesis submitted for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy of The Australian National University, October 2005), by Judith Smyth Robertson:
Jam (Putting on) Assuming fast airs of importance.
6-: From The Prodigal’s Return, published in the Melbourne Punch (Melbourne, Victoria, Australia) of Thursday 6th April 1882 [page 138, column 2]—the noun mint sauce is slang for money:
Now having found my home once more,
O, kill for me the fatted lamb,
The fragrant “mint sauce” let us pour—
(They’re safe; I think I’ll lay on jam);
Forget the joke which proved my bane,
And give me back your cherish’d votes;
“O take me to your heart again,”
(And ante up the yearly notes.)
7-: From To Correspondents, published in The Bulletin (Sydney, New South Wales, Australia) of Saturday 15th April 1882 [Vol. 9, No. 116, page 7, column 4]:
Writers whose stock of adjectives is limited to the phrases “utterly utter,” and “too too,” will oblige by endorsing their contributions “basket”: it saves time. All communications covering more than three pages of foolscap, telling how Jones “lays on jam,” should be addressed to the office boy direct, as they are his perquisites.
8-: From one of the unconnected paragraphs making up the column New South Wales Mems, published in The Albury Banner, and Wodonga Express (Albury, New South Wales, Australia) of Friday 28th July 1882 [page 16, column 2]:
Says Mr. L. F. Heydon: “In the matter of jams we are £125,000 a year poorer than Victoria.” Quite as it might have been expected. Victorians are always putting on jam; railway jam included.
9-: From Mining Intelligence, published in the Northern Miner (Charters Towers, Queensland, Australia) of Thursday 17th August 1882 [Vol. 17, No. 626, page 2, column 5]:
Taken as a whole the prospects of Charters Towers never looked better than at present. They may talk and blow about the Gympie mines in the Southern papers, the only notice of Charters Towers being a monthly report of the Warden’s, very good in its way but not giving such full information as a special mining reporter would give. A representative of the Sydney Mail is now on the field and he may assist materially in the introduction of some Sydney capital here. He dont [sic] require to lay on the jam, just give the bare facts—the size of our reefs, depth of workings, nature of grounds, cost of production, and average per ton.
10-: From the Melbourne Punch (Melbourne, Victoria, Australia) of Thursday 24th August 1882 [page 71, column 2]:
Isn’t It?
It’s wonderful how the frequenters of restaurants “put on jam” since butter (save the mark!) is placarded at 3d. extra.
11-: From the column Jottings by the Way, published in The Southern Argus (Goulburn, New South Wales, Australia) of Tuesday 12th September 1882 [No. 8,313, page 2, column 4]:
Being fond of a little harmless recreation, I thought I would form one of the party that attended the bachelors’ ball given in the Mechanics’ Institute on Tuesday evening last. It was, I must admit, a very enjoyable affair; everybody was nice and agreeable. The ladies were particularly affable, and the gentlemen, no less remarkable for their sauvity [sic] and politeness. As each one present seemed anxious to outdo the other in his attentions to those of the gentler sex that graced the hall with their lovely forms, I could not refrain from following the general example, and I must confess I too gave way to the weakness of “putting on the jam.” Whilst gliding round the hall to the stirring music contributed so cleverly by my friend H. W., assisted by a violinist from Marulan, I experienced a lively sensation of pleasure in the forgetfulness of the busy world with its cares and troubles, which but a short time before I had left weary with the anxiety its affairs entail.
12-: From Chapter 12 of Saved by a Ring, by the British-born Australian author and politician Harold Wilberforce Hindmarsh (1841-1889), published in The Kyneton Observer (Kyneton, Victoria, Australia) of Saturday 9th December 1882 [No. 3,094; Supplement: page 1, column 3]:
“What did you do?” I asked, feeling thoroughly bewildered.
Andy looked at me admiringly. “You do put on jam, you do!” he cried. “As if you didn’t know what I did as well as me that done it!”
“But I do not know. You seem to forget that I am not a racing man.”
Andy sighed—evidently still incredulous, but he condescended to explain. “So soon as old Martin hooked it,” he sad, “I claps a twitch on Grey Dolphin’s nose, and gives him a ball.”
I was more mystified than ever. “What is a twitch?” I asked. “And what is a ball?”
He burst into a roar of laughter. “I tell you what, guv’nor,” he cried, when he recovered breath sufficiently to speak; “you’re a out-and-outer.”
13-: From the caption to the following cartoon, published in the Sydney Punch (Sydney, New South Wales, Australia) of Saturday 6th January 1883 [page 1, column 1]:
PUTTING ON JAM.
14-: From the transcript of a speech made by the Reverend R. Sellors during the annual meeting of the Primitive Methodist Church held on Tuesday 13th March 1883—transcript published in the Goulburn Evening Penny Post (Goulburn, New South Wales, Australia) of Thursday 15th March 1883 [page 2, column 3]:
They would have differences of opinion, and they must thank God they had those differences of opinion in the Protestant Church. They did not maintain a dead uniformity, and had the right of private judgment, and they would not surrender it. (The rev. speaker here related an amusing anecdote, about the Bishop of Norwich and the Bishop of London, and deduced from it the lesson of the language of the heart). Not very long ago he was at a meeting in which it was spoken about ”putting on the jam;” well, they did not want to jam themselves all over, but they could express their sympathy in a kindly way.
15-: From the Queensland Figaro (Brisbane, Queensland, Australia) of Saturday 9th June 1883 [page 368, column 2]:
At Clermont lives a married pair whose surname, Sir, is Sam. The woman’s name is Harriet—she puts on lots of jam. Her gentle hubby’s cognomen is James (or rather Jim); And up till lately he has found it good enough for him. He used to be a decent sort when living as a “hatter;” But since the time he married her he don’t know what’s the matter. She busts his money on rare scents—such awful words does utter—And now she’s sworn before the Beak he won’t allow her butter! He won’t allow her butter and he won’t allow her eggs! He puts the kibosh on her small expenses for clothes pegs. And so she hauled him up before the Beak—a merry dance—And charged him with desertion; yes, and wanted maintenance! The learn-ed Candiottis sat upon the question straight. He very quickly settled what should be the hubby’s fate. He wouldn’t make an order for he thought the husband was Persecuted rather muchly there without sufficient cos. A dreadful warning this should be to such as ne’er did marry yet. Don’t ever, pard, get took in by a girl who’s christened Harriet. It also should prevent a man from putting on of jam Because his surname haps to be (like Griffith’s Christian) Sam! Or, if you’d like to see it run with swell sonorous spell, Let’s close the par. by writing out with unction—“Sam-i-vel!”
16-: From The Australian Town and Country Journal (Sydney, New South Wales, Australia) of Saturday 22nd December 1883 [Vol. 28, No. 728, page 1,175, column 3]:
The Masher of the Day.
By E. J. S. (Summerhill).Now gather round my schoolmates dear,
And for a moment stay
And wait till I to you describe
A Masher of the day.
Around his neck a collar lies,
Well, quite three inches high,
And round his collar there is seen
A dainty little tie.
[…]
His pants, of course, are very tight,
And made as to display
A pair of very jammy boots
Made in a stylish way.
From his coat pocket there peeps out
A silk, bright red or blue;
And oft to put on extra jam,
A cane he carries, too.
17-: From the Melbourne Punch (Melbourne, Victoria, Australia) of Thursday 27th December 1883 [page 11, column 2]:
The Probable Truth About Little Red Ridinghood.
Little Red Ridinghood was supposed to be a very good girl and quite free from the prevailing faults of little girls of her age. Her parents fondly believed that she could be trusted with square acres of cake and oceans of jam, and that she wouldn’t touch or taste. Her reputation was such that the pantry door was always unlocked, and Little Red Ridinghood was never found “putting on jam,” or with a finger in the pie.
18-: From the transcript of a song from Aladdin, a pantomime produced in Melbourne—transcript published in The Leader: A Weekly Journal of News, Politics, Literature, Science, Agriculture, and Sport (Melbourne, Victoria, Australia) of Saturday 12th January 1884 [No. 1,464, page 26, column 4]:
Distinguished visitor you think I am
Lord Raspberry although I put on jam;
Nor Arch’bald Forbes, so kindly here you use me,
When I go home you bet I won’t abuse ye.
19-: From Sundry Shows, a theatrical review published in The Bulletin (Sydney, New South Wales, Australia) of Saturday 16th February 1884 [New Series: Vol. 1, No. 40, page 9, column 1]—perfesh is slang for profession, i.e., that of the theatre:
We seldom put on jam. Indeed, it is quite the other way, as a rule. Not that we are hard to please or love to be exceptional, but because we so seldom get a chance of saying nice things of the “perfesh,” without departing from that love of truth for which we have suffered so much. Well, the Turners gave us a chance with “Mignon.” It is melodious from start to finish. [&c.]
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