SPECTATOR COMPETITION No. 142 Report by Marghanita Laski This competition

clearly attracted the best brains, for all the entries received were so very good that one would like to be able to say that everybody had won and everybody would get a prize—except for Mr. Guy Innes who, naughtily literal as usual, pointed out that Swahili fulfilled the requirement of containing words contemporary with but incomprehensible to Jane Austen, and then offered an entry in Lallan Scots ; one feels that Mr. Innes's school-reports must often have contained the suggestion that his undoubted talents might well be applied to, kinder uses.

Odd comments : Slang, except for Roger Erskine's, never really came off. No competitor offered any cocktail other than a White Lady—what about Pink Gin, Clover Clubs or even Manhattans ? R. J. P. Hewison's handwriting was so beautiful that it deserves a mention, even though irrelevant. Not enough people thought to explore the possibilities of changes in actual custom and convention ; P. M. gets a Highly Commended for being the most comprehensive here. Our other Highly Commended is Coral M. P. Taylor for a most ingenious re-write, the most.successful in this genre.

Unmistakably primus inter pares was,Mr. R. Kennard Davis, who wins the prize, complete and undivided ; no one else approabhed his mastery of not only the style but the very wit of his model. The rest of our space can best be used by extracts demonstrating the fantastically wide ranges of incomprehensibility that a hundred and fifty years have wrought on words that Jane Austen knew.

"I'm baby-sitting for the people underneath." (JdYCE JOHNSON)

" 'What's up, John ? You look browned off.' " ' We've had it,' replied John. ' The card vote went against us.'

' So it's the closed shop after all ' exclaimed Ben."

(D. R. PEDDY) " ' Hell—the lights I ' " That's our chance—jump them ! ' shrieked ,Lydia.

" Wickham obeyed. As they shot over, a bonnet nearly took them In the flank." (A. M. SAYERS) " It means a lot to you, though ? ' he asked. ' The path to

Wimbledon and all that ? '

" Just another cup. Doesn't really matter.' " (W. D. Gil-moult) " Double cross me, would you ? ' she snapped. Make passes at another dame ? You wide boys think flashing a roll and shooting a big line puts you solid with every dumb gold-digging doll in a leg show. This is the pay off. I'm through.' " ' Keep your hair on, baby. You're off the beam. I got pickled to the eyebrows in some dive. I play square. I'm pitching way out of my league, kid, but you're my pin-up for keeps.'

" On the level ? '

" ' Sure. Get a load of this rock.'

" ' Boy ! That ice spells plenty bucks.'

" ',Darn right—ten grand.'

4" Big dough. Hot ? ' " (ROGER ERSKINE) " But his hobbies--' " Fives and bridge—contract, of course. If he had known of Our complex on the subject, he would not have mentioned his occasional flutter on the Pools. You heard him broadcast on Economic Inflation, and, however poor the' reception, you must know that he is a coming politician. When he was screened for the new post, after the recent purge in the Ministry, his background was checked up ....'

" Elizabeth, he is contesting a Labour seat.'

" I am determined, Mamma. We are only waiting until after the operation on his appendix to announce our betrothal.' "

(RHODA TUCK POOK)

' •

FIRST PRIZE

(R. KENNARD DAVIS)

" Have you heard, mamma," cried Lydia, bursting into the room. " Mr. Wickham has got his wings ! "

" His wings ? " said Mr. Bennet. " Indeed you surprise me. I had supposed him to be a Terrier ! "

"O no, papa ! He has been flying for quite a long time. Mamma, do you think 1 might give him a ring, to congratulate him ? " " I think," said Mr. Bennet, " that I should wait for him to offer you One I • " How did you learn of it, my dear ? " asked her mother.

" From Mr. Bingley ; he was in Longbpurn with his new sports model —such a beauty ! He met Mr. Wickham in the tube yesterday. 0, I do hope he will take me up some day ! "

Provided he doesn't drop you," said her father, " 1 should have no objection."

" Ask him in to bridge," said Mrs. Bennet, " and I will get Mr. Collins. Do you know his number ?"

" Mr. Collins ! " cried Elizabeth, taking a Woodbine from her case and lighting it. " Why, he knows none of the conventions. He is hopeless at playing dummy I " should have imagined," said her father, " that that would have been his forte."

COMMENDED

(CORAL M. P. TAYLOR)

When Eliza had left the room, the ladies at once began to pull her to pieces.

What a clot she is," Miss Bingley said. " Fancy walking all that way in those high heels. Her home-permanent was quite blown out of set too—and her slip was showing."

" Yes, but if the shooting brake was out of action, what else could she do ? " her brother asked.

" If the brake had really run out of juice she could have ridden over," Miss Bingley returned.

" She told me the chain had come off her back wheel," Mrs. Hurse said.

On returning to the lounge Eliza found the party, with the exception of Mr. Darby, playing Beetle. He, as she walked over to the grand, threw down his fountain-pen and, switching on the light for her, urged : " Do give us some swing, Miss Eliza."

" Have you got an album of swing at Penbury ? " Miss Bingley asked. " Is it on view with the rest of the Darby Collection ? "

" On view ! " Bingley snorted. " That's what death duties and income tax have done for us. if I were you, Darby, I'd give Penbury to. the National Trust."

(P. M.)

" I ask you, why do girls leave home ! " said Phyllis bitterly, hitching a trousered leg over the chair-arm and moodily attacking her breakfast apple. " Why. can't / have a break like the rest ? Freda's on the land, Kate's at Oxford, Clara's in an office—why must I be the one to hold the baby here ? " Her mother sighed and began to stack plates. " How about a week-end at Aunt Ethel's ? " she suggested mildly. " I'm sure we could cope. Your father's so good about chores—and perhaps the daily would oblige at night." Phyllis snorted—" No, thanks—I'd pass out: All those good works ! She'd rope me in for meals on wheels and Civil Defence meetings. And the biggest thrill— the pictures, or a hop at the club with the local yokels I Count me out." " Why not throw a party here—drinks and square dances ? " asked her mother brightly.

" Too expensive to get everyone warmed up properly—and who's to do it all ?—cherries, pickled onions, little eats, chipped ice—just a busman's holiday for me. Besides, I've nothing to wear but that back- less rag Freda left. No, I'll just have to go on mouldering here till the cows come home."