In Competition No. 2622 you were invited to submit a rhymed curse penned by a motorist on a cyclist, a cyclist on a pedestrian or a pedestrian on either. Reading the entry brought to mind a question once posed by Matthew Parris: ‘Does cycling turn you into an insolent jerk?’ ‘You bet it does!’ came
In Competition No. 2621 you were invited to invent a new magazine combining two existing publications and provide an extract from it. It was with great reluctance that I disqualified Josh Ekroy’s poignant portrait of an angst-ridden budgerigar. The publications in question had to be real ones, and energetic attempts to track down Existentialist Monthly
In Competition No. 2620 you were invited to submit an argument, in verse, for the superiority of one vegetable over another. It was Pablo Neruda’s ‘Ode to the artichoke’ that got me thinking about the pecking order in the vegetable kingdom. Here’s a snippet: ‘The cabbage/ Dedicated itself/ To trying on skirts,/ The oregano/ To
In Competition No. 2619 you were invited to submit a short fable culminating in a mangled aphorism. The fabulous theme of this comp is a salute to Jaspistos, celebrated translator of fables, whose rendering of La Fontaine’s was deemed by the not-easily-pleased Geoffrey Grigson to have been unsurpassed, ‘earthier and sharper than Marianne Moore’s’. The
In Competition No. 2618 you were invited to submit a sequel to Betjeman’s ‘A Subaltern’s Love Song’. As a native of the home counties — born in Aldershot, raised in Camberley — I have a soft spot for Betjeman’s muse, who imparted a touch of glamour to this unlovely part of the world. The real
Lucy Vickery presents the latest competition In Competition No. 2617 you were invited, in the wake of Big Brother’s demise, to submit a proposal for a new TV reality show guaranteed to pull in the punters. This assignment was an invitation to plumb the depths of bad taste. And plumb them you did. I winced
Lucy Vickery presents the latest competition In Competition No. 2616 you were invited to continue Edward Lear’s self-portrait in verse — ‘How pleasant to know Mr Lear’ — or T.S. Eliot’s response — ‘How unpleasant to meet Mr Eliot’ — for a further 15 lines, substituting the name of the poet of your choice, or
Lucy Vickery presents the latest competition In Competition No. 2615 you were invited to provide a lesson in the facts of life courtesy of Mrs Malaprop or the Revd William A. Spooner. This comp produced an especially enjoyable entry, highlights of which deserve to be shared. Here’s Brian Murdoch: ‘In these days, when over-copulation has
In Competition No. 2614 you were invited to submit a press release by the tourist board of one of the following fictional holiday destinations: Lilliput; Wonderland; Oceania; Brave New World. The entry was split fairly evenly between the first three destinations, while the prospect of trying to entice visitors to what Huxley referred to as
In Competition No. 2613 you were invited to submit a cautionary tale for our times, in the style of Hilaire Belloc, about the consequences of too much time spent texting or on social networking sites. The grisly fates of Belloc’s creations — Jim, eaten feet upwards by a lion, and Mathilda, burnt to a crisp
In Competition No. 2612 you were invited to provide an extract from an issue of The Spectator from the year 2109. Back in the mid-1950s competitors were asked to look into their crystal balls and come up with content from The Spectator of 2080. In the report on the results, they were sternly berated for
In Competition No. 2611 you were invited to provide a poem to be recited on the Fourth Plinth in Trafalgar Square. Thanks to Juliet Walker, who suggested this challenge: it was a popular one that drew a large and bracing entry. What is more, I was unaware when I set it that there is already
In Competition No. 2610 you were invited to submit an extract from the diary of the partner of a famous person, past or present. The puns came fast and furious this week. ‘I’ll make him a nice bombe for his tea tomorrow,’ writes Guy Fawkes’s other half (Juliet Walker), while Caligula’s long-suffering steed Incitatus (Frank
In Competition No. 2608 you were invited to submit a poem in praise of adjectives. While the inspiration for last week’s challenge was a verb-hating French doctor of letters, this time around you can blame Ezra Pound. In The Spirit of Romance he states, ‘The true poet is most easily distinguished from the false, when
In Competition No. 2607 you were invited to submit a piece of verbless prose (present participles used as adjectives or nouns were permissible). ‘Invaders, dictators, usurpers of our literature,’ boomed the French writer Michel Thaler in the preface to his verb-free novel Le train de nulle part, published in 2004. His hatred of the doing
In Competition No. 2606 you were invited to imagine Gordon Brown taking some tips on style from a writer of your choice and submit an extract from the resulting speech. I thought more competitors might have steered the Prime Minister in the direction of Milton or Dryden, given their spin-doctoring credentials. As it was, Shakespeare
In Competition No. 2605 you were invited to compose an anthem for a county of your choice. Some competitors played it straight but many chose to subvert the anthem’s traditional fawning tone. Northants, in particular, got it in the neck, with Greg Whitehead (who lives there) and John Brown (who doesn’t) struggling to find a
In Competition No. 2604 you were invited to submit a passage from a novel that is the product of a collaboration between two unlikely bedfellows. Hot on the heels of eminent literary partnerships past — Somerville and Ross, George and Weedon Grossmith — come such unlikely yet intriguing alliances as Eric Carle and Marcel Proust,
In Competition No. 2603 you were invited to submit a newspaper article on a subject of your choice currently in the news containing as many excruciating puns as possible. I’ve never been a big fan of puns but something of a pundemic broke out in a discussion thread on the web about swine flu —
In Competition No. 2602 you were invited to submit a poem in praise of urban living. The countryside’s praises have been well sung by poets; cities’ less so, although Wordsworth had his head turned by the early-morning view from Westminster Bridge. There are seven winners this week so I’ll pause only to offer warm commendations