Schadenfreude

In Competition No. 2481 you were invited to supply a poem or a piece of prose ending with Gore Vidal’s nasty gnome, ‘It’s not enough to succeed. Others must fail.’ I’m not an especially nice person, but I’ve never experienced the pleasant frisson of schadenfreude; in fact, Rochefoucauld’s remark to the effect that there is something not unpleasing in the misfortunes of our friends strikes me as a bum maxim. This week, verse outshone prose so brightly that the prose writers, led by Frank Mc Donald, are not among the prizewinners. These are rewarded with £25 each, while the bonus fiver goes to the loony Hugh King.

I’ve conclusively proved that pigs fly,
The Earth is quite flat,
Stars are just holes in the sky,
And Einstein’s a prat.
My unique understanding of science
Made my jealous and vain
Competitors form an alliance
To declare me insane.

This asylum seems perfect to me.
The staff, although kind,
Are, to truths which I readily see,
Entirely blind.
So I smile as I faultlessly read
While they fumble with Braille.
It’s not enough to succeed.
Others must fail.
Hugh