Competition

No. 1058: Far behind?

Spring seems to be rather delayed this year so competitors are asked to help it along with an Address to a Belated Spring. Limit, 20 lines. Entries to 'Competition No. 1058' by 12 April (note early closing date).

No. 1055: The winners

Charles Seaton reports: In reply to a foreign visitor's criticisms, competitors were asked to defend our climate, or inflation, or strikes or some other drawback by pointing out ns beneficial effects on our character, e0111merce, mental powers etc. Britain, says the aphorism, has no ellmate, only weather (which a number of entrants also pointed out), though, as Emerson remarked — but not, I suppose, 0, Britain — coal is a portable climate (an" we've always had plenty of that). H. A. Evans was one of the weather-Nose entrants: Somebody once said that Great Britain has n° climate, only weather. It was probably meant aS an insult; unimaginative people simply don I know what benefits we derive from our weather' First, it is the main subject of conversation among us. Without it, we would be conversationlY frustrated. Our social life would be disastrouslY affected, possibly even completely disruPtetl. • Furthermore, our weather is very variable every way, especially in temperature. This means that anyone brought up in Great Britain is phY' sically and morally toughened and can put up with any climatic conditions throughout the world. This ability, as is well-known, has inac!e Britons first-rate explorers and was large1Y responsible for the success of the British EmPlre" By contrast, W. May Byron's pot-pourri of quotations drew a rather unusual lesson from the British weather: 'Tis the hard grey weather breeds hard Englishmen, says Kingsley, and those who visit us from warmer climes should know that, according to Byron, what Men call gallantry and gods ado!' tery, is much more common where the weathers sultry. So blow, blow, thou winter wind, thou art not so unkind as man's ingratitude, and freeze.: freeze, thou bitter sky, thou dost not bite so pig; as benefits forgot. And when Spring follows, an all the swallows, though rough winds will doubtless shake the darling buds of May and summer's lease is bound to be shortdated, cannot our vise, itors, as they come to know the uncertain glorY an April day, also acknowledge the certain gl°11 of our literary heritage?

One of the first things the unsuspecting foreigner is presented with on arrival is the wretched food we commonly provide for our visitors (and even for ourselves), so it was surprising that it went almost unremarked in this parade of the less admirable features of the British way of life. Almost' but not quite, for G. H. Harris delivered a comprehensive backhander in his apologia: What, my friend! Did I hear you exclaim at the standard of our motorway cafés, at the congealed at on the sausage, the cold chip, the faded lettuce, the stale bread, the bitter coffee? Know you not that gastronomic abuse has been the foundation of Britain's enterprise, character and greatness? How could stomachs spoiled with Pasta, coq au yin or rich, fresh gateaux have survived the privations of Lucknow or Mafeking? Did not strong, orange tea from copper urns in a thousand drill halls inspire Britain with the Dun spirit? Our repulsive platters are not for ungering over; they bring on no dawdling siestas, ritY Latin friend, but a desire to get up and go that rice carried the Union Jack to every corner of the globe.

Railway inefficiency, shoddy workillanship, strikes, jet noise, hooliganism, litter louts and even crime (whose elimination, Roger Woddis claimed, might put the police, the legal professional and social Workers out of a job) — all these were speciously defended, while T. Griffiths rolled them up into one big ball:

Actually, old chap, all these things are the same

thing. Inflation, strikes, football hooliganism, even the jet noise and the pollution, even the climate — let me explain. You see, we led the World, didn't we, with our industrial revolution? I Teao, we were the first. We're Futuresville. rwtriember what that underdeveloped country said? 'Send us your pollution'. Well, take things

one by one: inflation is the British saying no to he religion of work. Same with strikes. Football

n°01igani5m9 Would you rather we vented our aggression in war? As for jets, need I say more Lila° 'Concorde'? What about the climate? 'beaotY of our climate is how temperate it is. 'aim all the time? Try India in a monsoon, see What I mean? And look at the palm trees in Torquay .

The traditional British qualities of selfreliance and sturdy independence were, of c"rse, often invoked in extenuation of violence of one sort and another. Rufus Stone, for instance, produced a splendidly ligh-toned defence of hooliganism: „)Qes History berate the notorious Apprentice Riots of past centuries? Of course not; for rt. isto,-,y knows that from that boisterous stock here

.urers sprang those intrepid Merchant Adven

who were, eventually, to paint a third of tie globe red. Similarly today, the perceptive ;ocial critic, as opposed to the hysterical over atactor, sees in the bloody tourneys of the Bovver Ps of Millwall and Manchester the first tokens the resurgence of the traditional British spirit "r territorial aggrandisement and xenophobic urY. What hypocrisy to lambast our sturdy young 'IltrY for its lack of initiative, drive and self :Hance, while simultaneously castigating these .Fling and ebullient youngsters for so thought

equipping themselves with metal toecaps,

nuckle-dusters, pickaxe handles and bicycle itains While J. Timson looked on the bright side 3f strikes: 41hat the foreign visitor may not immediately .calise is that the continuing wave of strikes is .aPidly reviving the old British habit of selfcliatice which was in danger of being lost forever

in the Welfare State. Knowing that if you are injured there is probably no ambulance service. that if you can somehow reach hospital it will probably be paralysed by NUPE, is a great incentive to look after oneself better. Lack of refuse collection leads to less waste and coupled with intermittent food shortages is leading to renewed interest in compost making and home food growing. After ten or so years of this Britain should be the most resourceful nation on Earth while less fortunate nations will have become soft and decadent.

Finally, Peter Peterson reminded us once again that the tongue-tied Englishman always has one topic of conversation to fall back on: That's the trouble with you foreigners. Rigid. Logical. Always wanting things to turn out the way you expect. We English are different. Flexible. Ready for the worst. We can take it. Personally, I just can't imagine anything more tedious than looking out of the window in the morning and .knowing what the afternoon will bring. Variety's the spice of life, I say. But then, like most Englishmen throughout history, I relish challenge. Like now, for instance. Should I, or should I not, take a mac? Yes, I know the sun's shining: what's that got to do with it? Besides, we're a strong, silent lot. What would we talk about if it wasn't for the weather?

Five pounds goes to G. H. Harris, four to H. A. C. Evans and Rufus Stone, and three pounds each to the others printed.