In Competition No. 2927 you were invited to submit a Christmas carol written in the style of a writer of your choice. Albert Black’s ‘Once in Royal David’s City’ by way of Will Self raised a seasonal smile: ‘Erstwhile in posh Dave’s municipality/ Upraised a plebeian bovid shack…’ As did George Simmers, who imagined Allen
In Competition No. 2926 you were invited to submit a poem about HS2. The idea for this challenge came to me as I was listening on YouTube to W.H. Auden’s poem ‘Night Mail’, which he wrote to accompany a section of the terrific 1936 documentary about the London to Glasgow Postal Special directed by Basil
In Competition No. 2925 you were invited to submit a short story entitled ‘The Winter’s Tale’. There were lots of references to Shakespeare’s play in the entry and to judge by its somewhat sombre mood most of you agree with Mamillius’ assertion that ‘A sad tale’s best for winter…’. Those printed below earn their authors
In Competition No. 2924 you were invited to submit a ‘love scene’ from a novel that dampens rather than boosts the reader’s libido. It was a cracking entry, so I’ll keep it brief to make space for as many winners as possible. Dishonourable mentions go to Peter Goulding, Sergio Michael Petro, Margaret Timbrell and Ann
In Competition No. 2923 you were invited to describe an everyday object, in verse, from the point of view of a Martian. James Fenton coined the term Martian to describe the work of poets such as Craig Raine and Christopher Reid, whose poems cast familiar objects in an unfamiliar light. In his 1979 poem ‘A
In Competition No. 2922 you were invited to invent new garments and provide definitions. Thanks to the reader who, inspired by the emergence of the ‘slanket’, the ‘cardi-gown’ and the ‘onesie’, suggested this excellent comp. It has been claimed that we have Sir Winston Churchill to thank for the onesie, which can be traced back
In Competition No. 2921 you were invited to write a clerihew about a fictional character. The clerihew is a comic four-line (AABB) biographical poem characterised by metrical irregularity and awkward rhyme. The first line is often the subject’s name. Or, to put it another way: E.C. Bentley Quite accidently Invented this form of wit, And
In Competition No. 2920 you were invited to submit an extract from a novel written by a rock star of your choosing. I was pleased that Adrian Fry went for Tom Waits, whose storytelling genius shines out on the likes of the grimly hilarious ‘Frank’s Wild Years’. But as Morrissey’s recent stinker demonstrates, being able
In Competition No. 2919 you were invited to write a poem that begins with the first line or two lines of a well-known poem but then takes off in a new and unexpected direction. It was an exceptionally crowded field this week and the winners below fought off strong competition to take £20 each. Basil
In Competition No. 2918 you were invited to submit a poem composed entirely of three-letter words. ‘This is the most difficult comp you have set and has driven me mad!’ said Adrian Fry. It was a nasty assignment, I admit, but it could have been so much worse. Take John Fuller’s wonderful poem ‘The Kiss’:
In Competition No. 2917 you were invited to submit a reply from Andrew Marvell’s coy mistress. Marvell’s mix of cajoling wit and harsher truths failed to persuade the Australian (male) poet A.D. Hope. Here’s an extract from his blistering reply, ‘His Coy Mistress to Mr Marvell’, published in 1978: Had you addressed me in such
In Competition No. 2916 you were invited to recast a well-known scene from literature to reflect the fact that its author has signed a sponsorship deal with a well-known brand. The Mad Hatter’s Tea Party provided the perfect platform for Mr Kipling; Sydney Carton’s execution was the ideal shop window for Sabatier and Brooks of
In Competition No. 2915 you were invited to submit limericks featuring a well-known artist and a destination of your choice. This challenge was spawned by a limerick Robert Conquest wrote about Paul Gauguin: When Gauguin was visiting Fiji He said things are different here, e.g. While Tahitian skin Calls for tan spread on thin You
In Competition No. 2914 — which was inspired by a speech given by the late Sir Keith Joseph in which he said that the government was trying to ‘Bennboozle’ the country — you were asked to submit coinages inspired by today’s politicians, supplying full dictionary definitions and illustrative examples of their use. As is often
In Competition No. 2913 you were invited to submit an extract from the school report of a well-known author, living or dead. Teachers often get it wrong, of course. Eight-year-old Charlotte Brontë was described by hers in less than glowing terms: she ‘writes indifferently’ and ‘knows nothing of grammar, geography, history or accomplishments’. In 1943 Beryl
In Competition No. 2912 you were invited to submit a tribute in verse to a once-popular foodstuff that has fallen out of favour. Bill Greenwell’s entry (Spangles!) brought to mind childhood pleasures, as did Sid Field’s (Creamola) and Jayne Osborn’s (Angel Delight). But I still shudder at the memory of spam fritters, and Alan Millard’s
In Competition No. 2911 you were invited to submit a thriller in three text messages. This one seemed straightforward enough but it turned out to be a tough assignment that stretched veterans and newcomers alike. As in all forms of micro-fiction — the mini-masterpiece attributed to Hemingway, ‘For sale: baby shoes, never worn’, springs to
In Competition No. 2910 you were invited to submit a poem by a pet who is cheesed off with its owner. The contempt in Basil Ransome-Davies’s closing couplet, written from the perspective of a bolshie moggy, was echoed throughout the entry by a hacked-off parade of bullied, misunderstood and condescended-to pets: He wants affection, he
In Competition No. 2909 you were invited to follow in the footsteps of Michael Gove, who has urged civil servants to take inspiration from George Orwell and Evelyn Waugh, Jane Austen and George Eliot, and submit a memo generated by either the Department of Education or the Ministry of Justice as it might have been
In Competition No. 2908 you were invited to submit a comically appalling opening to an imaginary novel. Thanks are due to the inventor of the annual Bulwer-Lytton fiction contest from whom I have pinched the idea for this challenge (Edward Bulwer–Lytton is often described as ‘the worst writer in history’). It was a pleasure to