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COMPETITION

Tra-la-la

Jaspistos

IN COMPETITION NO. 1916 you were given the first two lines of a song and invit- ed to carry on in your own way.

The two lines, which James Lees-Milne fractionally misquoted, are the chorus of `The Jolly Miller of Dee' and were written by the Irish playwright Isaac Bickerstaffe (1735-1812), who was page to Lord Ches- terfield when he was lord-lieutenant in Dublin, and later joined the Marines and was cashiered. It is an odd name for an Irishman. Even odder is the fact that before he was born Swift had chosen the name Isaac Bickerstaff (no e) for a bogus astrologer whom he invited to plague the real astrologer, Ralph Partridge. Dear Sir, is this a coincidence?

Sprightly, dejected, solipsistic, maniacal, menacing — you had plenty of moods and attitudes to play with, as the prizewinners printed below (£20 each) demonstrate. The bonus bottle of Isle of Jura Single Malt Scotch whisky belongs to Watson Weeks.

I cares for nobody, no, not I, And nobody cares for me; When you fall among thieves, it's you that grieves; I'm the sod who's hurrying by.

If the ladder's up, I'm all right, Jack; The Age of Chivalry's dead; The Good Book states we should all be mates;

I sail on a different tack.

Society don't exist, I say; It's a word to console the weak;

Let 'em go to the wall: it's me they'll call

Top dog at the end of the day.

So caring's out, that's easily seen, And I'm not my brother's keeper; I stake my claim and lay the blame At the door of the Selfish Gene.

(Watson Weeks) I cares for nobody, no, not I,

And nobody cares for me, For 'care' is a word that has suffered abuse. Kick it out of the dic-tio-na-ree!

Oh, I can remember when 'care' meant 'care'. Now we've care in the corn-mu-ni-tee, And chemists who smugly insist they care Send our snaps to the DPP.

I shares with nobody, no, not I, And nobody shares with me.

Charismatics and counsellors — all of that ilk - Keep on sharing from breakfast till tea, But I judge a word by the mouths it's been in.

Watch me spit this one out scorn-ful-lee!

And sellers of time-shares with bribes they call gifts Just remind me no lunch is free. (Keith Norman) I cares for nobody, no, not I, and nobody cares for me, and then one day I met someone,

who's changed the way I see,

a social worker, don't you know, a sharing, caring she with anoraks and an earnest look and many cups of tea.

She taught me how to look outside and make my mind more free, so now I cares for everyone in a haze of LSD; but the strangest thing of all, you know, still nobody cares for me. (Paul Eddins) I cares for nobody, no, not I, And nobody cares for me, So while this rumpus is going on I'll take to the foaming sea, Where I'll hear no more of pension funds Or, even worse, bankruptcy.

And if of my crew someone should dare To smoke while he's on the job, He won't be the first to walk the plank For 'whimsical' Captain Bob;

By bearing down on slackers quite hard Is how I rose from the mob.

Yes, once I am safely out at sea (My lads can sort out the wreck) The only thing that will see me fall Will be a slippery deck. (David Barton)

I cares for nobody, no, not I, And nobody cares for me. I likes other folk to be passing me by — Alone's where I wants to be. I don't give a tuppenny, matter of fact, And nobody spares me the same. The only attention I needs to attract Is mine — and that isn't a shame.

I've spent enough energy trying to make friends With the world and its hoi polloi.

I swears I'll go satisfied if it all ends With me as my pride and joy.

So I pleases myself in my own little way While the sun dares his luck in the sky. And who says goodnight at the end of each

day?

Me — to myself and I. (Andrew Gibbons)

No. 1919: Annus miserabilis

You are invited to compose a letter to a poor friend (maximum 150 words) from a jackpot Lottery winner bemoaning the troubles that his or her millions have brought. Entries to 'Competition No. 1919' by 8 February.