COMPETITION

, PURE MALT ,

Devil's Advocate

Jaspistos

IN COMPETITION NO. 1787 you were invited to play the Devil's Advocate and argue that one of the Seven Deadly Sins is a mere peccadillo, or even a virtue.

Hardly anyone attempted a defence of Avarice, but Sloth found plenty of cham- pions, among them Adrian Vale, this week's runner-up, whose advocacy ex- pressed itself in brochure lingo: 'Worn out by the scramble of modern life? Soul- hungry? Join HOLY LAND TOURS for the most spiritually reviving and relaxing holi- day you've ever had . . . Yes, friends, the Take-It-Easy Way actually brings you nearer God.'

The prizewinners, printed below, get £20 each (not wealth beyond the dreams of avarice), and the bonus bottle of Drum- mond's Pure Malt Scotch whisky goes to Martin Woodhead (no envy, please).

From one particular lapse, Error multiplies. Those who, spurning Gluttony, starve them-

selves of food and drink, do not mortify the flesh but glorify it: equating emaciation with beauty, they commit the glaring sin of Pride. And to what end? To entice the opposite sex: Lust in the foulest degree. Then, attempting to outshine their rivals, they fall headlong into Envy. In scorning the pleasures of food, thereby nourishing their wallets, they are prone to Avarice; and because they are so set in their ways (betraying an imaginative ataxy or Sloth) they set themselves up to harangue all others, in self-righteousness and Anger.

So, from one supposed sin, real ones are bred; while the harmless Glutton, rejoicing in the fruits of the earth, is at peace with himself, his fellow men and his creator.

(Martin Woodhead) What sets Wrath apart from its companions is the fact that, unlike them, it is not a continuous, creeping trait that can therefore be controlled, but descends in an instant. Anything so univer- sal and so voluntary can hardly be a Sin, still less a Deadly one. Perhaps giving full vent to it might be thought sinful, but the alternative is to dissemble, which is arguably more so.

An open expression of Wrath is an effective and economical means of communication. To say, flatly, I wish you had not done that will have little effect on children, less on lorry drivers and none at all on dogs. An alarming shade of purple will speak more eloquently than a considered statement. Paul, who knew a bit about both Sin and Wrath, was in no doubt about the injustice of Wrath's inclusion in the Seven. Be ye angry, he wrote, and sin not.

(Noel Petty)

`I'm green with envy,' we say. More than coincidence, surely, that the colour also symbol- ises both youthful inexperience and vigorous growth? For envy is that most admirable and socially useful of sins, springing as it does from the desire to better one's own lot – something we all feel, though for some the dreary experience of being among life's losers wipes away all traces of their original enterprise. If I covet my neighbour's house or his car (his wife, of course,

is a different ball game), the envy I feel can kick-start my economic drive and performance. Say what you like, this country needs envy, however much it's been knocked over the years by hand-wringing socialists in dog-collars. Faith, Hope and Envy – that's what we need to turn Britain round. The green pangs of envy can turn into the green shoots of recovery!

(Peter Norman) `What are you doing?' says my wife accusingly. `Thinking,' I reply. 'Prove it!' comes her wither- ing riposte. Pathetic, isn't it, this modern cult of hyperactivity? Doesn't she understand the nega- tive advantages of Sloth? I am at least not vandalising telephone kiosks, not beating her and not inciting the good people of Truro to violent revolution. In fact, being able to relax and let the ash fall off my cigar puts me in distinguished company: the eponymous hero of Goncharov's classic, Oblomov; the philosopher Bertrand Russell, who wrote 'In Praise of Idleness'; William Wordsworth, who often lay on his couch 'in vacant or in pensive mood'; and, of course, Sir Isaac Newton, whose famous discovery resulted from a happy conjunction of a rogue Cox's Orange and his own slothfulness. That's why you'll often find me sitting in the orchard. I'm waiting for the Big Idea. It's only a question of time. (Watson Weeks) May it please your lordship, I appear for the defendant Lust, charged with being a deadly sin. The monkish mediaeval moralisers who brought the charge were no doubt motivated by envy. And they were evidently English, since the French do not distinguish lust from desire, which they know to be natural and necessary in both men and women. How ironic and hypocritical to classify as deadly something so intrinsically concerned with creation and life. The Germans too are less prudish: their word Lust, as your lordship will know, means joy and delight as well as desire, as in Die Lustige Witwe, The Merry Widow. So on this issue of morality we are at odds with our European partners. For greater harmony my essentially delightful client should, I submit, be discharged as a sin and reclassified as a virtue – albeit one capable, like other virtues, of being overdone.

(David Heaton)