5 FEBRUARY 1954, Page 16

Curses seem somehow more satisfying to the unregenerate soul of

man than blessings. I am thinking particularly of J. M. Synge's 'The Curse,' which ends up: "Lord, this judgement quickly bring And Int your servant, J. M. Synge." Competitor's are invited, for the usual prizes, to let themselves go in a rhymed curse of any object or person they feel writs comminution (e.g., Boogie- Woogie, Mrs. Grundy, the Candid Fricrul, a Queue-Crasher). Not more than twelve lines, and if a competitor can work his own name into the last line, so much the pleasanter.