COMPETITION

No. 636: Dear Sir . . .

Set by E. 0. Parrott: Recently a letter appeared in the SPECTATOR apparently from E. M. Forster in the Elysian Fields. Competitors are invited to submit letters from the same address on any matter dis- cussed in this week's or next week's issue. Limit, 150 words. Entries, marked 'Competition No. 636,' by 8 January.

No. 633: The winners

Charles Seaton reports: In asking for Christmas messages of the sort competitors would like to hear —or deliver—I did not expect them to pass up such a good chance of airing their feelings as was presented to them. I could hardly have been more wrong, for 'Queen's messages' outnumbered the rest by a good two to one.

Those who gave their own mes- sages hardly made the best of their opportunity. There was little even mildly memorable. I liked J. D. Crispin's: My Christmas message, from one who is only eighty-two years 'young', is to all those students, politicians, guitarists, beauty queens, trade unionists and the like that are for everlasting on the tele- vision and wireless. You talk about the Common Market, but as one who has spent a lifetime in the im- ported tallow and drygoods trades, cycling to the warehouse for 5.30 a.m., summer and winter, often over frozen tramlines, it seems that nowadays nobody knows how to enjoy a bit of Christmas cheer.

In my young days we could get four pints of best beer, a packet of 'gaspers', a tot of rum, a pickled onion and a basin of fish pieces on a Saturday night, and still have sixpence change out of a florin to put on the plate on Sunday morn- ing. And never a day in hospital or prison and every tooth in my head my own.

Most of the others did not really come cff. The only prize among this group goes to George van Schaick who wins two guineas: This Christmas message is to thank all those who have displayed so keen an interest in my affairs dur- ing 1970: The area accountants of the various public undertakings who by their prompt and polite remin- ders have shown a solicitous anxi- ety that I should not suffer the in- convenience of disconnection of gas, electricity or telephone: my doctor for his assurances that, far from my suffering alone, there was 'a lot of it about'; my bank man- ager for his touching and flattering faith that I would be 'funding the account within the next few days'; and my industrious garage man, who, whenever I telephoned about the car. was 'just doing it now.'

My wife and I send a special greeting to the Post Office whose idiosyncrasies have kept us in fre- quent, albeit hysterical, laughter throughout the year. A Happy Christmas to you all.

The Queen's messages were, at any rate, refreshingly individual. This extract from M. K. Cheese- man's entry is typical of a number:

Asa change from the pleasant tri- vialities supplied by my speech- makers in past years and, for the first time, rejected by me this year, I propose to give you all the plain unadulterated Queen's-eye view of those with whom I have had to work during my reign . . . Before

I begin, let me just warn you that I have decided to extend this broad- cast to at least three hours, and let any engineer or electrician dare to switch me off I Let me begin with Martin Folkard's Queen's message will no longer—we hope—be topi- cal: Christmas this year assumes a new meaning, as no doubt those of you who can cee my flickering image on a voltage-reduced television screen will realise . . . Those of us who have candles, or, in some cases, gas lighting will be experiencing a truly Dickensian Christmas.

T. Griffiths has a dig at me as well as the PR people but he does it very well and wins three guineas: Good afternoon. The PR people say you don't want flippancy or gra- vity. I had thought of mentioning starving children in less fortunate places, for whom our country has a special responsibility, but that would be too grave. I had thought of a tirade against the vulgarity and commercialism of Christmas today, but that would also be too grave. Ironic praise of all the ghastly things that go to make up Christmas family quarrels, indiges- tion and so on, would be flippant. In fact, everything I thought of fell immediately into one or the other category. So after careful thought I finally arrived at some- thing anodyne, suitable for every- body, sober and altogether appro- priate for the occasion, in a word the mixture as before. You may not know it, but they say it's what you really want.

My husband and I . .

P . W. R. Foot wins his three gui- neas primarily for his effective end- ing: My dear subjects, I know many of you think it is easy to be a monarch and to carry the burden of the whole State upon your shoulders —not to mention the weight of that crown on my head. But how do you think I like to be at every- body's beck and call? How do you think I like to attend Privy Council meetings when I'm enjoying a rest in the country—seeing my profile on every letter I open—noting the scramble for the exit every time my song is played at the cinema? How do you think I like the long ab- sences of my husband abroad on State business; having to deliver boring speeches I don't write? Well, I've written this speech so you'll get the truth. I love being Queen—every blessed moment of it—and thank you all very much.

And finally, although we seem to have left the Christmas spirit behind somewhere, four guineas for Peter Peterson:

Fellow-citizens! This year I am not addressing you as your Queen• Like other workers in the national- ised industries, I have been com- pelled to take industrial action. As I have always, as I think you will admit, worked to rule, I have now no alternative left but to abdicate —I hope temporarily. Some may say that my departure should be welcomed, as a first step in the pro- cess of sweeping away the cere- monial humbug that encumbers our political system. To those of you who find the prospect of a more efficient form of government

attractive, I have nothing to say

But if, as I suspect most of you do. you feel that administrative exper- tise should be humanised by a de- cent respect for hallowed absurdi- ties, write to your MP, and tell him to vote as a loyal subject should. I shall be happy to sign a productivity agreement.