COMPETITION

Innocent slang

Jaspistos

IN COMPETITION NO. 2111 you were invited to supply a piece of prose in which at least ten slang words are used in an inno- cent sense, with comic or misleading effect. Apropos 'innocence', there is no more amusing dictionary entry than the one on p. 1,586 of my 1990 Chambers: 'twat . . (vulgarly) the vulva: (blunderingly) part of a nun's dress (Browning)'. It was my friend David Hughes who begat this com- petition by pointing out an ambiguous use of 'nutters' in Masefield. You gave me plenty of entertaining scenes, ranging from Roger Till's 'I had invited to the theatre not only my stylishly dressed Aunt Edna but her son, the especially smart Alec, beaming in his birthday suit' to F.G. Robinson's

Jorge Luis Borges, who, 'off his trolley, offered the interviewer apiece of cake'.

The prizewinners, printed below, get £25 each, and the bottle of The Macallan Single Malt Highland Scotch whisky goes to Anne Du Croz.

Everyone benefits from a good dump. Our convent's tip and community waste- disposal shredder are a great success. Normally Father Kevin is on the wagon, and Sister Magenta and I are on the ropes. We rope the refuse on to the trailer. I find it easier to pull: Sister Magenta is more of a swinger. 'All well-stacked?' asks Father Kevin, before moving off. We're usually ready for business by 7 a.m. With Sister Attracts away, at least five months gone, we're short-handed. Sometimes we must leave early and then Father Kevin conies on with one of the novices. Mgr Delaney is back from cruising now, no we're trying to encourage him to come out, but he's been feeling a little queer lately. The noise of the shredder's power-unit disturbs choral even- song, so we prefer to have it off at that time. We are, of course, back on the job

every morning. (Anne Du Croz)

Take an ornithological tour of the Scottish Highands. Get high in the mountains, where there's plenty of grass, and see if you can spot some gorgeous birds. Don't expect to see tits, though — it's far too cold. On your trip, there's no need for speed and don't shoot — just watch. Ignore the commonplace. You haven't travelled all this way for a lark but for the chance to spy a female phalarope chasing a male, and it's the male that looks after the young. The sight of a big red cock standing among some cute little chicks is what makes people come, time and time again. Move down to the coast and you're sure to get a shag — but be careful. You could end up with a very painful prick, for there are clumps of thistles everywhere.

(Frank McDonald)

'Duck,' I said. I was still fetching my Grandma one, when the checkout assistant charged her. 'Listen,' I said, 'I've humped this bird here, and I want to call the manager.' The manager arrived. I ate a stray grape and sniggered. 'Don't scoff,' he said. Suddenly he plucked a wooden spoon from Grandma's coat. 'You can do porridge with this,' he said. I looked at the implement, and at him. 'A stirrer,' I said. He said, 'Run up the apples and pears — she's got some in her pockets.' Cut the fruity voice,' I told him. Anyway, the pears looked off. 'This is rotten,' I told him — 'fitting up my Grandma.' I used a pen-knife on one of them. He took it. 'This has been nicked,' he said. 'Then why,' I asked, 'don't you call for a peeler?' Meanwhile, Grandma was stealing out of the shop.

(Bill Greenwell)

I know you're upset that your dogs are barking but we've made arrangements for them. We've temporarily put the kids and nanny in the pad- dock because they don't mind Cyril's bull. Old Cyril bought it during a farm sale last week. When the boys clear their birds from the hayloft there should be no more larks up there and the barn will be free, apart from the occasional local night owl. Yesterday we had a leak in there, so watch when you go in that you don't kick the bucket. Everything here smells of paint as we've been redecorating the bedrooms; you'll be in the pink. I've just finished screwing up some new shelves for you. The detail in our room is rather too blue for our taste and the painter may have to come and touch us up a bit, but that shouldn't

inconvenience you. (Alanna Blake)

There was only one Dick Head and inevitably his obituary was a lot of balls. Football, volleyball ... he was crazy, everyone knew, about games. You'd find him out there on the sod no matter what the weather, completely thick fog or driving rain. He once said that sport was the injection his life needed. What a prick! He'd have built his own arena complete with running track if he hadn't lost the plot. Dick was captain of our net- ball team. There had never been a tosser like him. So why did the dumb bastard kill himself? Had being born mute and fatherless played a part? He had a screw loose, of course. That was how he got into the gun cabinet. I'll never forget seeing him lying there beside the bloody pouffe. It was so very queer. That suicide note! Why did he think nobody liked him?

(Jill Green)

No. 2114: Ibsen's Brand

This morning I noticed that my toothpaste was called Rembrandt. Why not, I thought, Berlioz tobacco, Charlotte Bronte scent, a Leonardo motor-car? You are invited to produce advertising copy (maximum 120 words) ingeniously and incongruously link- ing a product with a famous name in the arts. Entries to 'Competition No. 2114' by 2 December.