Spectator Competition: Wrong time

Competition 3393 went in search of – and found – basic laughs by inviting you to submit a passage of historical fiction sprinkled with anachronistic detail. I was thinking along the lines of the grey squirrel in Sharon Kay Penman’s The Sunne in Splendour (set during the War of the Roses), but it was generally assumed that subtlety would get lost and the absurder the better: the anachronisms were more larded in than dusted on. I especially liked Janine Beacham’s vision of Henry VIII enjoying a strawberry gelato while he ‘considered a dalliance with that most charming teenaged babe, Catherine Howard’. Profound thanks to all who entered, and here are the winners.

‘OMG!’ cried pretty Nell Gwyn. ‘I didn’t see Your Maj hiding down there. Come out and let’s have a cocktail before supper!’

The King, his face in shadow, eyed her covertly. He took in her feather boa, push-up bra, stockings and suspender-belt. Nell smiled provocatively and tossed her fiery curls: she’d had her Carmens in all afternoon and knew she looked good.

King Charles laughed his famous merry laugh and lit a cigarette. He tossed aside the box of matches. ‘Whatever!’ he said negligently.

‘Where are we going tonight?’ Nell asked, adjusting her seams. The King turned to face her. He was wearing a pair of flying goggles. ‘Can’t you guess?’

Nell shrieked in excitement. ‘Not a ballon-ride?!’

The King nodded. ‘I was talking to one of the Montgolfier bros in the Casino and it’s all fixed. It’s a package deal and we’ll even see the Eiffel Tower!’

‘Sick!’

J.C.H. Mounsey

Bonnie Prince Charlie graciously laid down his serviette and called his servant for a tumbler of The Macallan. ‘I see from your clan tartan,’ he said, ‘that you are a Cumbernauld. I have a gift for you, mon pote.’ So saying, he unzipped his sporran, drew out a five-pound note, furled it, and presented it with a bow.