No. 1374: The winners

Jaspistos reports: Competitors were asked for an acrostic poem, the first and last letters of each line, read vertically, spelling out The Spectator and New Statesman.

A chorus of protest from some of you leaves me unrepentant. 'The lights rule out rhythM/ Or rhyme. What A/ Rotten com- petitioN!' John Sweetman concluded un- graciously. But, damn it, I never asked you to scan or rhyme, knowing full well that those final 'A's would prove a nightmare. Even so, there were some gallant and impressive feats of contortion. Paul Griffin managed rhyming couplets which only faltered at a last-ditch attempt to rhyme `regaliA' and `mammaliaN'. One entry was in dog Latin, another in English Sapphics. Mary Holtby solved the final 'A' problem by cheekily rhyming `matiana' with `mens sans'. There was no need to make the two magazines the subject of the acrostic poem, so there were no extra points for doing so. Out of a large entry, six winners, worth f10 each, emerge, leaving E. F. Bradford, D. E. Poole, Mary Holtby and Basil Ransome-Davies out of luck. The bonus bottle of Cognac Courvoisier VSOP goes to Ron Jowker (whose ingeniously used acronym stands for One Damned Thing After Another).

Trouville, how was it? A hole. So never AgaiN!

Hotel grubby, waiters coarsE, Exchange-rate diabolical, landlady a shreW, Six days of cloud like a wet blanket, then force-eight galeS, Pleasure-beach non-existent, French telly just taT, Effing awful loos, so Tracy got diarrhoeA.

Can you believe it, then Kevin sprained his wrisT (To-do we had over that, and no mistakE), And what with Fred's sore throat, Angie's filthy moodS, Tea like dishwater and greasy veg and breakfast so-called jaM, ODTAA.

Rhyl next year, we've booked already; Wales is civilisatioN. (Ron Jowker)

The Staggers and the Speckers! Well, I meaN, How vital to the British cultural scenE

Each journal.is! To read both is to knoW Something on every subject it propoS. Perspiring hacks review with great eclaT Each music style, from madrigals to skA; Composers, authors, film directors waiT To read the notices and know their fatE. Across the world, from Nice to Nantes, from NimeS To New South Wales, subscribers weekly dreaM Of winning the next comp, but find themselves at seA, Resulting in a final couplet that doesn't rhyme or even scaN.

(Peter Norman) Trochees tumbling in profusioN, Hiawatha's is the metrE Easiest for old and calloW.

Statesmen are, as are SpectatorS,

Packed with fact and entertainmenT, Excellent in doubt and dogmA.

Can we, joyful and triumphanT, Take of each the best advantagE And, reversing left and right sideS, Thank them both with due decoruM; Or, Charybdis passed and ScyllA,.

Reach, at least, a safe conclusioN?

(M. R. Macintyre) To call it a twin I'd consider it siN, Hardly fair to declare it a matE; Every copy I view makes me vow to escheW Such biased opinions of party-line minionS, Preferring my facts fair and straighT. Each provides panorama of music and dramA; Criticisms they write of books weighty and . lighT; There's so much on a similar themE.

And the same hoary sinners turn up as comp winnerS . . .

Time to finish, I run out of steaM; Otherwise, I could state a whole lot of fresh datA, Repeating, 'They're not next of kiN.' (0. Smith) The skylark's dazzling jubilatioN Heralds once more the wakening rosE. Everything burgeons; by my windoW Snow-in-summer palely growS, Pansies look up, and now the potenT Exquisite odour of sweet-peA Catches the sense, this perfect momenT; The fumblings of the bumble-beE Assault the many-coloured blossomS Triggered by thrustful Nature's whiM.

Last night 1 dreamed that 1 had the Gettys bidding against one another.'

O Flower Goddess, ProserpinA, Receive this praise, my Garden HymN!

(Gerard Benson) Turner had been a faithful anchor maN; He cried on plunging into the crevassE.

Each of us pulled, till finally our roW Shuddered with Turner's weight. The snowy masS Pounded our friend. Reluctantly we puT Escape above a dying comrade's pleA.

Cutting his rope, we cast aside the thoughT That God had taken Turner — why not mE?

At last we moved, not daring to assesS The wisdom of a different stratageM; On the savage sides of a Himalayan seA Regret was the only judge that could condemN.

(Frank McDonald)