"If one cannot command attention by one's admirable qualities one can at least be a nuisance"
About this Quote
Wry and a touch ruthless, Allingham captures a social law: attention will be claimed, if not earned. The line skewers the human hunger to be seen, suggesting that when virtues fail to attract, people resort to disruption. It is both a joke and a diagnosis. To become a nuisance is to hijack the spotlight by force of irritation, and the quip recognizes how reliably the noisy, obstinate, or inconvenient can dominate a room.
Coming from a master of Golden Age detective fiction, the observation also carries a narrative edge. Allingham often filled her stories with social climbers, impostors, and flamboyant eccentrics orbiting the urbane Albert Campion. In such worlds, reputation is currency, and visibility confers power. Characters who cannot earn esteem through courage, wit, or integrity nonetheless manipulate attention by creating messes others must address. Even villains understand this economy: a disturbance compels witnesses, triggers gossip, and erodes the quiet in which sober judgment thrives. In that sense, nuisance is a tactic, a way to control the agenda when one cannot command respect.
The line also satirizes class manners. Polite society prizes admirable qualities, but it rewards spectacle more often than it admits. The nuisance flourishes where audiences are captive and decorum restrains frank rebuke. Allingham exposes the hypocrisy: the room pretends to value merit, yet it keeps turning toward the loudest interruption.
There is, finally, a moral sting. While nuisance-seeking may work, it corrodes both the self and the commons. To live by irritation is to trade dignity for notoriety and to burden others with the cost of one’s presence. Still, the aphorism endures because it is uncomfortably true, now amplified by media that monetize outrage. Admirable qualities are hard to cultivate and slow to be noticed; nuisance is easy, immediate, and effective. Allingham’s wit asks which kind of attention we really want, and what it costs to get it.
Coming from a master of Golden Age detective fiction, the observation also carries a narrative edge. Allingham often filled her stories with social climbers, impostors, and flamboyant eccentrics orbiting the urbane Albert Campion. In such worlds, reputation is currency, and visibility confers power. Characters who cannot earn esteem through courage, wit, or integrity nonetheless manipulate attention by creating messes others must address. Even villains understand this economy: a disturbance compels witnesses, triggers gossip, and erodes the quiet in which sober judgment thrives. In that sense, nuisance is a tactic, a way to control the agenda when one cannot command respect.
The line also satirizes class manners. Polite society prizes admirable qualities, but it rewards spectacle more often than it admits. The nuisance flourishes where audiences are captive and decorum restrains frank rebuke. Allingham exposes the hypocrisy: the room pretends to value merit, yet it keeps turning toward the loudest interruption.
There is, finally, a moral sting. While nuisance-seeking may work, it corrodes both the self and the commons. To live by irritation is to trade dignity for notoriety and to burden others with the cost of one’s presence. Still, the aphorism endures because it is uncomfortably true, now amplified by media that monetize outrage. Admirable qualities are hard to cultivate and slow to be noticed; nuisance is easy, immediate, and effective. Allingham’s wit asks which kind of attention we really want, and what it costs to get it.
Quote Details
| Topic | Witty One-Liners |
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