No. 2524: Condensing Jane
You are invited to condense a Jane Austen novel into a limerick (maximum three entries each). Entries to ‘Competition 2524’ by 6 December or email lucy@spectator.co.uk.
In Competition 2521 you were invited to submit an anecdote by a dinner-party bore that culminates in the dubious claim, ‘And that is how I came to eat a cucumber sandwich with the King of Norway.’
When Jaspistos was in hospital earlier this year one of his fellow inmates liked to ensnare nurses in a vice-like grip and subject them to dull and lengthy anecdotes, one of which culminated in this triumphant final flourish.
The nurses no doubt had better things to do, but in my experience the truly dedicated raconteur is not in the least deterred by audience indifference, which simply reinforces a steely determination to plough on to the bitter end. There were some fine examples of death by anecdote. Commendations to Paul Griffin and J. Seery, whose opening was a cracker: ‘Some people say I suggested James Bond to Ian Fleming. Never met the fellow…’. Top marks, though, and the bonus fiver to Simon Machin’s bewildering yet oddly exhilarating attack of verbal diarrhoea. The other winners, printed below get £25 apiece.
…now this’ll amuse you what with poor Vera’s thyroid problem the Useless Quack recommends fjords and fresh air so I phone dear Roald Sophie lovely girl to tell him it should be a peach not a gooseberry and he puts in a word at the Oslo Hilton so its silver service and the Amundsen Suite our families go back well beyond the South Pole five famous Norwegians I can name 50 on the fingers of one hand not just whatshisname ‘Four Airedales’ anyway not trusting these continental buffets Vera brings down her Tupperware same design as the Queen’s talking of whom we spot young Harald over by the rollmops Vera waves it under his nose saying More Tea Vicar English isn’t too good poor chap he says ‘Takk’ face like a Munch painting and that is how I came to eat a cucumber sandwich with the King of Norway.
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