Competition
No. 1065: Lucky dip
Set by P.W.R. Foot: Your wife turns out your pockets prior to taking your jacket to the cleaners, and discovers: a lipstick, a tin soldier, some ants' eggs, a jew's harp, a packet of bubble gum and a small bottle Of 'Night in Paris'; or, While looking through your bag to find the evening paper your husband inadvertently comes across: a picture of men wrestling, a betting slip, a packet of snuff, a mouth organ, some aftershave and an agony column cutting about au attractive male seeking female company, As husband or wife, explain yourself Entries (limit, 150 words) to 'Competition No. 1065' by 4 June.
No. 1062: The winners
Charles Seaton reports: Anthony Brode's verses 'Breakfast with Gerard Manley Hopkins' prompted a request for other meals with famous poets — 'Tea with Swirl' burne,' say, or 'Elevenses with Stevie Smith.'
With the poet stylistically, that is, like, Anthony Brode's poem —itself tight-packen with crackle-pop breakfast-food Hopkins' ese — and not necessarily physically, though there was an abundance of austere meals with Wordsworth (boiled eggs much in evi: dence) and minimal snacks with Stevie Smith and, by contrast, receptions and parties in company with T.S. Eliot and sensuous spreads — mostly cream teas — with Swinburne. The runners-up included Dromore's 'Nosh with Noyes' ('Come down for stew at supper-time') and Mary Holtby's 'Fish and Chips with Tennyson' (The dim light falls on steaming walls . . . '). And the prizes'? Four pounds each for John Stanley, Gina Berkeley and G.H. Harris, and three each for the other entries printed.
(A canteen lunch with Henry Reed) Today we have steak and kidney. Yesterday
We had shepherd's pie. And tomorrow, Which is Friday, we shall have fish. But today' We have steak and kidney. My Linda Shines like Primavera through the hatch, And today we have steak and kidney.
Here is some kidney, which you have not got On your plate. These are your greens, And a dollop of mash. You may add a slurp Of Daddy's Sauce. But my beloved Has golden hair and blue eyes, As she ladles out the gravy.
For sweet there is treacle roly-poly. This Yellow gruel is custard. It is usual To take a large mug of tea or coffee. Which Is not palatable even with plenty of sugar.
But 1 will gaze upon my sweet darling, Until the custard congeals on my plate. (John StankY)
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