No. 525: The winners

Trevor Grove reports: Competitors were invited to write an octet hymning Shove Ha'penny, Skittles, Darts, Bingo, the Sack Race, or indeed any other of our less notorious national sports which had so far failed to attract their due homage in verse, composed in the form of parody. Pope and Croquet proved a mixture that met with general approval and Brian Allgar might best be chosen to captain the side : And now, as to the genial Sport they stoop, Belinda's Swain is first to find tug lino; He bears his Mallet uxight pies the Ball, And strikes dirty through the Entrance small.

`Whenas in sacks my Julia goes/Then, then, methinks how smoothly flows/The rhythmic action of her toes.' . . . Douglas Hawson on a hessian theme, and a useful introduction to others who chose to write on recondite field sports : 'On the Junior Field full of cream cakes and tea/I galloped, he galloped, we galloped all three,' writes a latter-day Browning, H. C. Martin, of the Three-legged race; elsewhere Graham Cherry starts a similar event with considerable elan and strong support from the home county—Shropshire lads and girls a-inaying/Arm-in-arm and knee-to-knee,' but finishes, alas, prone and despairing. Not so with egg and spoon virtuosi—Since neither strength nor speed of leg/Can save from harm a tumbling egg' (Peter Peterson).

But it was Bingo whose bland complexities attracted the largest following. There was a word or two from Kipling (Vera Teller): 'I goes into a Bingo 'all and pays me 'arf a crown/ The chap that draws the numbers starts callin' loud, "Eyes down!" ' . . . from G. W. Hunt (1'. Griffiths), by Bingo, and a prize-winning (five guineas) entry from Ogden Nash ne Fagg:

With their endearing determination to make their lingo So complicated that no mere foreigner can ever understand it, the British also call Bingo Housie-Housie;

But whatever they call it,-everyone agrees that its effect on the National Backbone, Stiff Upper Lip, Spirit of Dunkirk, etc, has been absolutely lousy. Hardly a day goes by without some professional jeremiah beating his breast and crying: `No wonder all these moral, social, political and economic ills ensnarl us, When at any given moment 10,000,000 Britigh

housewives have got their "eyes down" in

Bingo Parlours.' To which all I can reply is that though Bingo may indeed be responsible for all the manifold afflictions with which you so

joyfully say your land is rife,

It fascinates me, because the experience of sitting there with every number on your card crossed off except one, sweating with anticipation through seventeen more numbers none of which is the one you want and then eventually hearing some other completely undeserving person cry out `House!' just happens to be the story of my

life.

Three guineas, on another theme, to an in- eluctable piece of Allinghamese from J. R. V. White :

Up the lofty ladder, Down the scaly snake, Fearful of the adder, Little hearts a-quake.

It is just a game, dears; No need yet to curse.

Grown-ups have the same fears Infinitely worse.

Honourable mentions are legion, amongst them D. Willmey, G. J. Blundell, Roger Emer- son and W. A. Payne, but the final three soli-nos go to J. M. Crooks—John Dr•trl'on Patience: F9=--atres sake have a heart and let me win, Or rose my worship, for some fruit

It now must yield, so with my final suit Deal kindly, since Impatience is my sin.

Don't spurn this diamond, though your face

Still looks all-black, yet by your grace

My hand shall hold your heart, and on it place The wealth of Kings and Queens—if I may win.