COMPETITION

Poly and mono

Jaspistos

IN COMPETITION NO. 2125 you were invited to present a dialogue between a person addicted to polysyllables and one who uses only monosyllables.

To my surprise, none of you offered an `Imaginary Conversation' between two dead historical characters, in the style of Landor. That master of `verbijuice' Sir Thomas Browne, for instance, could have been pitted against an extra terse Hemingway. Amusing results, however, there were in plenty. Tony Delahunty, Christine Knight, Paul Griffin and Gerard Benson all made me laugh. The prizewinners, printed below, get £30 each for their drollery. The bottle of the Macallan Single Malt Highland Scotch whisky is on its way to Basil Ransome-Davies. When you analyse Coronation Street, you find a narrative trajectory divided between the mythopoeic re-creation of an idealised organic community and a contemporary popular drama driven by the market imperatives of audience ratings.'

`I like the boy with the dog.'

`Tyrone? Well, there you have a paradigm of adolescent identity maturing under the hege- monic mentoring of a regressive father-surro- gate, Jack Duckworth.'

`Jack's a lad, eh?'

`Yet historically the soap opera is a gender- specific modality addressing females in the home environment. Hence another contradic- tion, between patriarchal role-reinforcement and the elaboration for women of a cultural space for their own subjectivity. A dominant ideology imprisons the discourse while simulta- neously subverting its own dynamics.'

'Yeah. The dog's great, though.' (Basil Ransome-Davies)

God: This, for all my trust? Man: Our honourable intentions were cruelly conspired against. God: Then must ! guard you? Man: Perhaps precautionary arrangements against trespass would have facilitated those apples' protection.

God: I gave you the rule of your will. Man: Respecting the present situation, boast- fulness seems wantonly misplaced.

God: What!

Man: Imagine leaving unsupervised a creature understood to be naturally predisposed to sur- render to temptation.

God: You were free.

Man: Unaffected? Without interest? You informed us concerning the tree, thereby render- ing us vulnerable to extra-personal influence. God: Or you were ants if I had not. Man: Hypothetical conditions cannot be included under definition as evidence.

God: Out. Out! OUT!

Man: Unhand me. This is in violation of my fundamental human dignities. (Gregory Whitehead) `Despite prolonged hyperbolical promotion, Millennium phantasmagoria Dome-wise cur- rently confronts stupendous difficulties. Indeed, singularly catastrophic consequences gather thundercloud-fashion over Greenwich, heralding eventual downpour.' `Oh, I don't know, though. It weren't that bad. In fact I quite liked it.' `However inelegantly enunciated, whatever banalities subsequently surface, every opinion expressed merits earnest consideration.' 'That's nice of you to say that. Not to put too fine a point on it, I'm real chuffed.' `Nevertheless, minority euphoria cannot itself prevent overwhelmingly unfavourable criticism mounting. Drastic changes alone offer avenues leading towards ultimate financial salvation.'

`I get your drift. What d'you say to Dome raves, a fair with swings, "Kiss me quick" hats, hot dog stalls, not just Big Macs. Know what I mean?'

(Chas F. Garvey) Assiduous Flag Lieutenant: Admiral! Yonder! Admiral Parker's communication necessitates withdrawal. Portentous jeopardy approaches.

Nelson: What?

AFL: Preponderant Napoleonic leviathans evacuating Copenhagen, Admiral, offering con- frontation.

Nelson: I see no ships. AFL: Admiral Parker's prerogative, unam- biguously manifested, solicits acquiescence. Nelson: I see no flags.

AFL: Your telescope....

Nelson: Me spy glass? AFL: Circumstantially disadvantaged. Nelson: Balls. Sheet the jib. ALF: Unfurl the mizzen topgallant staysail. Starboard 25!

Nelson: No. Port ten. And a tot of rum to all hands. God save the King. ALF: Interweave the mainbrace! Preserve his Britannic Majesty! (Nick Syrett) `Have you got Shaved Babes?'

`Ah. Sir is a connoisseur of public depilation, a trichophobe rather than a trichophile, an ama- teur of erotic alopecia.'

`I just want the mag.'

`Oh, quite. The iconography of the defoliated pudenda, the vulva unveiled, the annihilation of the venereal velvet, if I may put it so baldly.'

`How much?'

That information I can give you, without the necessity of deploying this photosensitive appa- ratus, orally, instantaneously and unequivocally. An infinitesimal price for a magnitude of onanis- tic ecstasy.'

`Can you keep your voice down, please?'

(G.M. Davis)

No. 2128: Telling tales

`My father . . . told the story of the ivy-tree, and that was laughed at; he repeated the jest of the two scholars and one pair of breeches, and the company laughed at that; but the story of Taffy in the sedan-chair was sure to set the table in a roar.' I owe this sentence from a short story by Oliver Goldsmith to Beatrix Baxter. You are invited to invent one, two or three comic tales to fit the above descriptions. Maximum 150 words. Entries to 'Competition No. 2128' by 16 March.