COMPETITION

Junior counsel

Jaspistos

In Competition No. 1408 you were asked to provide advice from the young to the old, in prose or verse, in language suitable to any period of history.

Among the more amusing entries were Timothy Mirabell's advice to his father to abandon 'the old ways of professed gallan- try' and to 'dismiss the longueurs of address as so much opportunity foolishly wasted' (John Digby), a single delphic sentence from Esther Williams: 'Don't give us your nightmares; we'll only give them back in a worse form', some strict instruc- tions from Miranda and Ferdinand to the boring old magician (J. E. Tomlin), a brutally frank lecture from Achilles to Nestor (Maisie Herring), and a charming Chaucerian piece from 0. Smith:

0 fader deere, most felyngly I preye That namore ever mote I heere thee seye Thou wen a verray parfit gentil youthe; Ful wel I know thou canst nat speke the trouthe . . .

Fathers got the benefit of junior counsel far more often than mothers, though I guess that almost as many women as men went in for the comp. Nigel Bunker, Charles Mosley and Berni Wellgell all had powerful entries, but tended to concen- trate on the physical defects of the old, which I doubt whether the young object to half as much as they do to others. I preferred N. E. Soret's gentler line: 'Ex- pose your furrows; we will grow flowers in them and offer them to you for their perfume.'

The winners below earn £9 apiece, and the bonus bottle of Champagne Victor Canard (Brut), presented by The John Milroy Soho Wine Mart, 3 Greek St, London WI, goes to Philip A. Nicholson.

Don't rabbit on about glories long gone, You'll find that we're hard to convince; Admit to the truth, you were conned in your youth And you've tried to con youth ever since.

Be sure that you teach by example, not speech; Hypocrisy's rife in your lot: The finger that wags at consumers of fags Is nicotined likely as not.

By all means condemn adolescent mayhem If you're certain you're free from that sin;

Vandals reside in a pensioner's hide As well as a teenager's skin. On the whole it's as well to remain in your shell.

Don't patronise, lecture, or scold, Keep a guard on your tongue, give an ear to the young And, above all, enjoy being old.

(Philip A. Nicholson)

To Lord Chesterfield

I had this day a talk with Mr Boswell. He told me that it is Sheridan's opinion that our presen`. plan of education is very bad. Mr Boswell says he takes our state of being to be a jest, and that it is intended we should just go through life the best way we can. I said I had your letters to guide me, whereupon he quoted Dr Johnson, to the effect that fathers invariably call in the newA generation to redress the balance of the old, and would make Youth unhappy, if it listened. A

I thought there was some truth in this, an u

that it would save you much ink, and more effort, if you would desist from writing such advice, for to speak frankly, you are in every Way my idea of a perfect father, except in your desire to have me perfect.

Your affectionate son, Philip.

(T. Griffiths) Don't ape again young folly's dreams, Avoid all witless, wild extremes; Don't eat or drink to gross excess: It leads to physical distress. To dye your hair a different shade, Jet-black, or blond, or marmalade, Is silly, as are flashy suits, Blue jeans, sweat-shirts and trendy boots. (We recognise your deep unrest But really aren't all that impressed.) Observe this rule at every stage: Be sensible and act your age. Now if my words begin to bore I'm not surprised; they're nothing more Than your advice — or call it spleen To heady lads of seventeen. (D. E. Poole)

Be ambiguous, Dad. No stigma in enigma. Play dumb, crumb. Two wrong sides to every fact. Back both. On the box no answer. Reply with question. Stay with Savile Row and jeans. No wellies. Better urban. Surburban out since wife-swap. Also Islington, Stockwell and the river. Bloomsbury cred. No Volvo. No Rover. Jag Mark II just OK. Lay off Sloanes and models. For sex Debrett safe, agency tarts and

Royal Shakespeare Company. At face to face talk weather and Covent Garden. In five years change persona. Become bizarre. Slag off the media, allbody and all except Covent Garden. Change exchanges upwise. Get Geldorf as road manager. Never truth. Take piss out of French and Americans. Suggest Monte Carlo for Sum- mit and Boy George for Carter, Heath for Moderator and Stevas for Pope. You'll make No.10. Loves yer, Lucy. (Brian Coates) Last night I heard you, worse for drink, Returning from the town At well past midnight. Don't you think It's time to settle down?

Those trousers of repulsive hue That grip the crotch so tight Worked well for Jagger, but, on you, Are not a pretty sight.

The open shirt has had its day, Likewise the single earring, Especially when chests are grey And ears are hard of hearing.

0 Father, what was once decreed As cool looks merely shifty.

What's wrong with golf and Harris tweed?

Good God! You're nearly fifty! (Noel Petty) It is a truth not to be contested in the affairs of mankind — if it be permitted to one of my tender years to propose such an ancient verity — that age has always been the threshold across which wise men walk into the tumbled mansion of foolishness, there to totter about and doze as if they were newly emerged from their cradle. It is a doubt in my mind whether white hairs are an adjunct to wisdom or the gnarled stick the companion of gravity. 1 have found that old men want both decorum and good sense, with their ceaseless prattle of past years and their contem- plation of what is to come in the sequel to this life, when in truth their thoughts should be the centre and omphalos of the busy present. I conjure you, therefore, to avoid idle talk and leave off these thoughts of last things. Imitate me and think only of pleasure and what is to come and recall the wise days of your youth.

Yrs, Samuel Johnson (aetat. /31/2).

(Nicholas Murray)