Bad Lads and Nice Mice

SPECTATOR COMPETITION No. 445 ; Report by W. May Byron

The usual prize of six guineas was offered for aid amusing piece of prose in not more than-seventy-five. words of one syllable, containing not fewer than fourteen words with the same two-, three- or four-letter ending.

COMPETITORS have obviously enjoyed themselves, and so have I; although after the first hundred stories, I began to get a bit tired of the Jake Blakes and their cruel treatment of snakes, the slick Micks taking their chicks to the flicks and the .amorous adventures of Fay in the hay. Violent scenes figured most (perhaps because gangsters and Teddy-boys rarely speak in words of more than one syllable); love, of various sorts, was the second favourite subject; and then came several animal stories, verging on the shaggy. The Beatrix Potter charm of Roy Douglas's entry. wins him two guineas; two guineas also to Helena Broun for her neatly told story, and a guinea each to Rhoda Elliott and Samuel Stephen. There are so many runners-up that 1 am keeping the report brief to allow room for as many as possible to be printed.

PRIZES

(ROY DOUGLAS)

Two small mice met on the ice and fell in love in a trice. He thought she was nice and she guessed him to be free from vice (and lice), so they said, 'Let us splice.' On the great day the bride wore a gown of bice (price five nice), and the guests ate a cake made of rice with spice, and threw dice twice or thrice for the last slice.

(HELEN BROUN) The old lag dropped his bag of swag on the top of the slag heap, wiped his brow with a rag, and turned

on the hag. 'Nag. nag, all day!' he snarled. 'You brag and wag your tongue till I flag—but I'll gag you-11'11 scrag you!' He struck hard and watched her sag arid, fall from the crag. 'Now for a drag at my pipe! But the snag was, she had his shag.

(RHODA ELLIOTT) Will is ill. He has a chill on the gill. Lil gave him a pill. She will fill him with pills. Lil wants to kill Will. Lil loves Phil. She met him on the hill. The hill is by the rill. Lil will kill Will and put him in the mill. Then Lil will run down the hill. She will cook Phil a nice grill. Phil will pay the bill from the till.

(SAMUEL STEPHEN) Kate is at the gate with a plate, whence of late she ate skate. She is in a bate, as she has a date, but her mate is late. At this rate it may be his fate to get the plate on his pate to sate her hate.

But here he comes with grate of brake.

"Ere you prate,' says he, 'let me state 1 had to take a crate of slate to the Tate.'

COMMENDED (W. H. 1 HOM SON)

Rick is slick. He will show Mick, the hick from Wick, a smart trick. Throw this brick through that window, quick! Take your pick, this stuff is on tick. Now we can take a chick to a flick. But here comes a dick. That is a bit thick. Stick here and tell him you are sick. If your tale does not click you will hear a snick and end in the nick.

(ausitF. .)

Jack ('No Fat') Sprat came to my flat for a chat re this and thItt. He went to pat the cat which—wait for it!—sat on the mat. It spat. 'Drat!' said Jack and- took his hat and down the stairs he gat as fast as be could bat.

(K. G. T.) Dear Fay, Do come this way and stay all of May. We live by the quay, on the bay and get each ray of the sun. We eat off a tray which we lay twice a day.

You can be gay and play or else join in the fray and earn good pay, make hay and help pull the dray when it sticks in the clay.

Pray do not say 'nay.' With love.

Yours.

Kay.

(MRS. A. KENNETT) Dick gives Mick a kick. Mick gives Dick a thick ear. Dick gets out his flick 'knife and with one click gives Mick a sharp nick. What a mean trick! Mick throws a brick at Dick who falls down sick.

Who will pick up Dick? Not Mick ! Up comes Dick's chick. Boy, is she slick! She will not stick by Dick but goes off with Mick.

(GLORIA PRINCE)

If Miss Spain met Cain (in a train?) which of the twain would be 'slain'? He. the swain? She, the vain? Would Cain swing a chain with might and main to brain Miss Spain for gain? Would she look plain when slain? Or when she had long lain in the rain? Or had been drawn from a drain? Would her blood stain? And what of Cain? Would he feel pain? Or show the strain?

(R. KENNARD DAVIS)

Poor Jack has got the sack! Now he must pack, and leave his shack, and hit the track with his mack on his hack. 1 fear he will lack a snack! Will he find a crib to crack? He was on the wrong tack, poor hack, he had not learned the knack of when to slack. Now he has had to take the whack. He does look black!

(W. 0. DAISH)

'Oh hell!' said the swell sent to quell the smell in the dell where Nell used to dwell, 'How can I tell? May be a sell; might ring a bell.' An ell from us was the well, with a sign 'Not in use.' He peers in. 'Is this it?' 1 ask. 'Yes, her old man in need of a shell. All right if he fell; if not, you know, cell and knell.'