Nostradamian

In Competition No. 2424 you were invited to write a poem naming in each line a startling event which will occur during each month this year, ending with a four-line glimpse of the more distant future.

‘Fasten your seatbelts’ was the consensus. I shall gag myself to make space for the winners, pausing only to mention Adrian Fry’s prediction (optimistic or pessimistic?) that this month will see the Queen’s limericks published in the Times. The prize-takers, printed below, get £25 each, and W.J. Webster nabs the bonus fiver. Thank you, the person who sent me a Christmas card.

Jigsaw puzzles take the world by storm;
Forswearing f-words now becomes the norm;
Mandarin graffiti mark the moon;
A sudden, silent darkness falls at noon;
Mont Blanc’s internal staircase is revealed;
Jet engines used to dry a cricket field;
Jules Rimet’s cup is filled with blood and tears;
Australians vote to have a House of Peers;
Saddam Hussein says, ‘I deserve my fate’;
Oyster beds dam up the River Plate;
No smoking ban brings back the use of snuff;
Directors state they’re paid quite well enough.
Mid-air