Lucy Vickery

Pet sounds | 14 August 2014

From our UK edition

In Competition No. 2860 you were invited to submit a short ode on the death of a pet in unusual circumstances. I was prompted to set this challenge by Thomas Gray’s charming and witty cautionary tale ‘Ode on the Death of a Favourite Cat, Drowned in a Tub of Gold Fishes’, which he wrote in 1747 in memory of Horace Walpole’s beloved tabby Selima, whose desire leads her to a watery demise. ‘She stretched in vain to reach the prize./ What female heart can gold despise?/ What cat’s averse to fish?’ D.A. Prince’s winning composition below has strong echoes of Gray and there was plenty of wit and charm on display elsewhere in the entry. Commendations to Poppy McLean, John-Paul Marney, Martin Parker and Anita Howard.

Spectator competition: write a preview in verse of when the lights go out (plus voter-repelling party political broadcasts)

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The recent call for off-putting party political broadcasts on behalf of the Tories, Labour, the Lib Dems, the Greens or Ukip drew a surprisingly small entry. But the Green party loomed large and Basil Ransome-Davies wasn’t alone in revealing the ruthlessness that lurks beneath its tree-hugging veneer: ‘The reality is, some of us have been trained to kill with our bare hands. And who knows, that may be necessary unless we can educate the electorate to our level of awareness. It may be the only way to save the planet.’ He earns an honourable mention. Adrian Fry, who recruited Jimmy Savile as Tory spokesman (can’t get more repellent than that), also deserves a mention but perhaps that should be a dishonourable one.

Voter repellent

From our UK edition

In Competition No. 2859 you were invited to submit an offputting party political broadcast by the Tories, Labour, the Lib Dems, the Greens or Ukip. Basil Ransome-Davies wasn’t alone in revealing the ruthlessness that lurks beneath the tree-hugging veneer of the Greens. He gets an honourable mention, as does Adrian Fry, who recruited Jimmy Savile as Tory spokesman: can’t get more repellent than that. The ones that shone brightest in what was a surprisingly small entry appear below and are rewarded with £25 each. Frank Upton takes the bonus fiver. Sustainability— the word on all our lips. A Green government will put YOU at the heart of sustainability!

Spectator competition: provide snippets of misleading advice for British tourists travelling abroad (plus Margaret Thatcher’s secret love poetry)

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The recent challenge to unmask a secret poet among well-known figures from 20th-century history produced a postbag full of politician-bards, which included poignant lines from the pens of Edward Heath and Michael Foot. The real life poetic efforts of politicians such as Jimmy Carter have not gone down well with the critics. Harold Bloom branded him ‘in my judgment literally the worst poet in the United States’. I’m not sure that Bloom would have been any kinder to the winning entries below — or to Adrian Fry’s John Prescott. Here he is, just getting into his stride: ‘Don’t call me unsophisticated, I’ve been to Villanelle,/ I know me assonance from elbow, I’ve a cracking tale to tell...

Hidden talent

From our UK edition

In Competition No. 2858 you were invited to imagine that a well-known figure from 20th-century history was a secret poet and to submit a recently discovered example of their versifying. Politicians featured prominently in the entry: there were poignant lines from the pens of Edward Heath and Michael Foot, and here is Adrian Fry’s John Prescott, just getting into his stride: ‘Don’t call me unsophisticated, I’ve been to Villanelle,/ I know me assonance from elbow, I’ve a cracking tale to tell...’ The winners earn £25 each and George Simmers takes this week’s bonus fiver.

Spectator competition: write an ode on the death of a pet in unusual circumstances (plus what Leigh Hunt’s Jenny did next)

From our UK edition

Leigh Hunt’s much-anthologised mini rondeau ‘Jenny Kissed Me’ was the inspiration for the latest challenge, which asked competitors to take its first line, substitute another word for ‘kissed’ and continue for up to 16 lines. The poem was apparent-ly inspired by Thomas Carlyle’s wife, Jane Welsh, who gave Hunt a smacker on learning that he’d recovered from a severe bout of flu — as Ray Kelley obviously knows. Here is the concluding half of his excellent entry: Who was Jenny, from her chair Leaping? It was Jane Carlyle. She and Tom, that inkstained pair, Were my neighbours for a while. Sometimes only Jane was there In their Chelsea domicile... Memories make this crocodile Smile.

Spinning Jenny

From our UK edition

In Competition No. 2857 you were invited to take the first line of Leigh Hunt’s mini rondeau ‘Jenny Kissed me’, substitute another word for ‘kissed’ and continue for up to 16 lines. Jenny proved to be a real crowd--puller and produced a high-calibre entry. A congratulatory slap on the back all round. Those printed below earn their authors £20 each and Mae Scanlan takes £25. Jenny stunned me when we met; It had been ten years or better. She’d grown old and heavy-set — Rolls of fat beneath her sweater.   Underneath each eye a sack that You could fit a cat inside of; Frankenstein’s the likely quack that She could maybe be a bride of.   Jenny used to be a knockout; Not a fellow could resist her.

Spectator competition: craft a voter-repelling party political broadcast (plus James Joyce and co. give Phil Neville a masterclass in football commentary)

From our UK edition

Unkind comparisons were drawn, after his commentary debut, between Phil Neville’s style and a speak-your-weight machine. One Twitter user speculated, when the England physio was stretchered off injured, that it was because he’d ‘slipped into a coma when a live feed of Neville’s commentary was played into his earpiece’. https://twitter.com/Fiendish_Swine/statuses/478615778359783425 The latest challenge, in which competitors were invited give poor Phil a few pointers courtesy of a well-known writer, produced some lively and stimulating punditry. G.M. Davis offered the World Cup Dan Brown-style: ‘After a secret convocation in March 2002 Fifa proclaimed that the 2014 World Cup would be held in South America.

Soccer lesson

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In Competition No. 2856 you were invited to recruit a well-known author of your choice to give Phil Neville a masterclass in the art of football commentary. After his commentary debut, unkind comparisons were drawn between Neville’s style and a speak-your-weight machine, and when the England physio was stretchered off injured, a Twitter user speculated that it was because he’d ‘slipped into a coma when a live feed of Phil Neville’s commentary was played into his earpiece’. There was lively and stimulating punditry on offer in the entry, serving as a shining example to Mr Neville. Commendations go to Adrian Fry, Hugh King and Nick Booth. The bonus fiver is D.A. Prince’s; the rest take £25 each.

Spectator competition: unmask a well-known figure of the 20th century who is also a secret poet (plus elegies for postmen and headsmen)

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Estate agents, travel agents, publishers, record company executives; all have seen their livelihoods put in jeopardy by a brave new digital world. So it seemed fitting to invite competitors to compose an elegy for an endangered profession. You lamented the dwindling role of the milkman and the postman, and mourned the disappearance of the old-style pub landlord: ‘The last true pub landlords would much rather die/ Than stick on the telly for soccer on Sky,/ For they know the atmosphere’s stronger by far/ In a dank, convalescent-home type of a bar.’ (Adrian Fry) I admired Paul Evans’s entry but wasn’t convinced that being an England football fan qualifies as a profession.

Dead-end job

From our UK edition

In Competition No. 2855 you were invited to compose an elegy for an endangered profession. Estate agents, travel agents, publishers, record company executives; all have seen their livelihoods put in jeopardy by a brave new digital world. You also lamented the dwindling role of the milkman and the postman, and mourned the disappearance of the old-style pub landlord. I admired Paul Evans’s entry but wasn’t convinced that being an England football fan qualifies as a profession. There were sparkling performances, too, from Barbara Smoker and Bill Greenwell. The winners, printed below, pocket £30 each. G.M. Davis takes £35. Apologies to Sarah Drury, whose winning entry last week was printed without her cookery book title (The Doubtful Guest).

Spectator competition: Decide what Leigh Hunt’s Jenny did next (plus oblique cooking with Yoko Ono)

From our UK edition

As if there weren’t enough recipe books in the world, the latest assignment challenged competitors to invent a title for yet another one, with a fresh angle, and supply a publisher’s blurb. A quick trawl of the web reveals that there is already stiff competition out there. The Star Wars Cookbook (may the sauce be with you) and Cooking in the Nude both caught my eye, and those of you who suggested a roadkill-based approach have been beaten to it by Buck Peterson, who published The Original Road Kill Cookbook in the mid-Eighties (yours, on Amazon, for under a fiver). Commendations go to D.A. Prince, Tracy Davidson, Sylvia Fairley and Nicholas Stone, who get applause if not cash. The winners, printed below, pocket £30 each. Adrian Fry takes £35.

Fresh food

From our UK edition

In Competition No. 2854 you were invited to invent a title for a new cookery book, with a fresh angle, and supply a publisher’s blurb. When it comes to the market for bizarre cookery books, a quick trawl of the web reveals that there is already stiff competition out there. The Star Wars Cookbook (may the sauce be with you) and Cooking in the Nude both caught my eye, and those of you who suggested a roadkill-based approach have been beaten to it by Buck Peterson, who published The Original Road Kill Cookbook in the mid-Eighties (yours, on Amazon, for under a fiver). Commendations to D.A. Prince, Tracy Davidson, Sylvia Fairley and Nicholas Stone, who get applause if not cash. The winners, printed below, pocket £30 each. Adrian Fry takes £35.

Spectator competition: give Phil Neville a lesson in the art of World Cup commentary (plus oolite and ampthill redefined)

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The most recent competition invited you to incorporate the following seven words (real geological terms) into a piece of plausible and entertaining prose so that they acquire a new meaning in the context of your narrative: corallian, permian, lias, kimmeridge, oolite, cornbrash, ampthill. The inspiration for this challenge came from a bit in Robert Macfarlane’s wonderful The Old Ways where he muses on the names of the surface rock formations in the British Isles: ‘It’s tempting to lend them hypothetical definitions. Great Oolite (the honorific of the panjandrum of a non-existent kingdom). Cornbrash (a Midwest American home-baked foodstuff)....’ There was a great deal of wit and ingenuity on show this week and competition was hot.

Ground work

From our UK edition

In Competition No. 2853 you were asked to incorporate the following words (they are real geological terms) into a piece of plausible and entertaining prose so that they acquire a new meaning in the context of your narrative: Corallian, Permian, Lias, Kimmeridge, Oolite, Cornbrash, Ampthill. The inspiration for this comp came from a bit in Robert Macfarlane’s wonderful The Old Ways where he muses on the names of the surface rock formations in the British Isles: ‘It’s tempting to lend them hypothetical definitions. Great Oolite (the honorific of the panjandrum of a non-existent kingdom). Cornbrash (a Midwest American home-baked foodstuff)....’ There was a great deal of wit and ingenuity on show in the entry this week and competition was hot.

Spectator competition: compose an elegy for an endangered profession (plus Jack Kerouac gets the golfing bug)

From our UK edition

Competitors rose admirably to the recent challenge to step into the shoes of a well-known writer and submit a poem or piece of prose in praise or defence of something unexpected. It was nice to glimpse a lighter side of Leonard Cohen courtesy of Martin Parker’s twist on ‘Bird on a Wire’, and Alanna Blake submitted a well-made Wordsworthian tribute to wind farms. Ernest Hemingway came out for the League Against Cruel Sports and against sobriety, and in J. Seery’s entry Barbara Cartland showed her true Marxist colours: ‘There is no phrase in English more sensuous than “dialectical materialism”’. Other stellar performers were John Samson, Josephine Boyle, C.J. Gleed and Jamie Burnham, who restyled Arthur Ransome as a health-and-safety nut.

Unlikely champion

From our UK edition

In Competition No. 2852 you were invited to step into the shoes of a well-known writer of your choice and submit a poem or piece of prose in praise or defence of something you would not expect them to champion. You were on top form this week. Martin Parker reveals a lighter side of Leonard Cohen with a nice twist on ‘Bird on a Wire’, while Alanna Blake’s Wordsworth has a soft spot for wind farms. Ernest Hemingway comes out for the League Against Cruel Sports and against sobriety. And J. Seery’s Barbara Cartland shows her true Marxist colours (‘There is no phrase in English more sensuous than “dialectical materialism”’). Other stellar performers were John Samson, Josephine Boyle, C.J.

Spectator competition: provide a publisher’s blurb for a cookbook with a twist (plus your elegies for Jeremy Paxman)

From our UK edition

In Competition No. 2851 you were invited to mark Jeremy Paxman’s departure from Newsnight by supplying an extract from an interview with a politician or statesman in which the interviewer doggedly but unsuccessfully attempts to get a straight answer to a straight question. Even if you didn’t specify Paxo as your questioner, I was looking for something of the spirit of the man in your inquisitorial style. You didn’t hit his contemptuous, eyebrow-arching heights—who does?—but you provided an entertaining feast of mealy-mouthed obfuscation. The winners take £30 and W.J. Webster nabs the extra fiver for an entry that features a slippery Boris Johnson. W.J. Webster I. Would you like to replace David Cameron as Prime Minister? B.J. With whom?

Paxmanic

From our UK edition

In Competition No. 2851 you were invited to mark Jeremy Paxman’s departure from Newsnight by supplying an extract from an interview with a politician or statesman in which the interviewer doggedly but unsuccessfully attempts to get a straight answer to a straight question. There’s space only to announce that the winners take £30 and W.J. Webster nabs £35 for his entry, which features a slippery Boris Johnson. I. Would you like to replace David Cameron as Prime Minister? B.J. With whom? Good grief, man, there’s no vacancy and I’m no kingmaker. I. Nor a potential rival? B.J. He is my leader and I think of myself as his fidus Achates. I stroll pleasantly in the cool of his shadow. I. But if he were for some reason... B.J.

Spectator competition: redefine ‘oolite’ and ‘ampthill’ (plus: your meaningless proverbs)

From our UK edition

The latest call, for proverbs that sound profound but have no meaning, attracted an enormous entry. It was a pleasure to judge, and cheering, too, to see lots of unfamiliar names in among the regulars. The best entries contain just the promise of a profound meaning — but frustrate the reader’s attempt to work out exactly what it is. I tried to weed out those submissions (some of them very amusing) that did express a clearly discernible deeper truth, but some may have slipped through the net. The following competitors deserve an honourable mention: ‘The shallow puddle floods no meadows’ (D.A.