No. 1257: The winners

Jaspistos reports: Competitors were invited to rewrite 16 lines of Shakespearian verse, substituting colloquial words or phrases for those in the text where they pleased.

First you had to find a suitable passage not all that easy — then you were asked to preserve both the blank verse metre and the meaning, and quite a few of you strayed too far in those respects. I had been hoping for some really eccentric efforts — Hotspur's description of a battlefield in the style of Mr Jingle? A member of the Drones Club dithering over the advisability of self- slaughter? — but most of you, probably wisely, stuck to modern slang. `I have Im- mortal longings in me; now no more The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip' was nicely transformed by George Moor in- to a hangover groan:

There's something in me bigger than myself Must out — I'll never touch another drop Of the Egyptian vino after this!

Highly honourable mentions to him and to Basil Ransome-Davies, Cordelia de Grey, Roger Woddis, I. C. Snell and others too numerous to list. The winners printed below get £10 apiece, and the magnum of Château Paveil de Luze (no Gyppo plonk, that!) is on its way to Peter Norman. Our thanks to Andrew Bruce, Wine Consultant, 26 Napier Avenue, SW6, for having so generously supplied such magnificently drinkable prizes over the last two months.

Macbeth, Act H, Scene 2

Lady M: The booze that got them pissed has perked me up;

What clapped them,out's encouraged me. Whassat?

Relax! Only an owl! That creepy bird Gives me the willies. Hubby's hard at it. The doors are open and the sozzled grooms Are well away. I slipped them Mickey Finns With kicks like mules — and now the poor suckers Are well and truly zonked.

Macbeth (within): Who's that? What gives? Lady M: Oh crumbs! Don't say they've somehow woken up

Before he's brought it off! That really would Leave us in shtuck. He can't have missed the daggers — They stared him in the face! Had he not been The spit of my old dad, I'd (Enter Macbeth) Hello, mate!

Macbeth: It's all over bar the clearing up.

(Peter Norman) Hamlet, Act I, Scene 3

Polonius: Your mates, now (real old pals of yours, I mean),

Hang on to them — like handcuffed, you and them;

But don't take up with all and sundry; hail- Fellow-well-met is not the style. Don't start A punch-up, but if you are mixed up in one. See that you stand up for yourself, old son. Keep your ears open, but your mouth shut;

hear What other chaps think, but sing dumb yourself.

As for your gear, don't stint on cash for that, But nothing that's too loud, mind; class, not grot; For to get on you've got to dress the part, And Frogs, you know — the nobs, the high- ups always

Lash out on togs; they're very choosy, Frogs. No overdrafts, and don't give subs to pals; For that's the last you'll see of mon and mate, And in the red you'll never save a bean.

(Bridget Loney) Hamlet, Act IH, Scene 3

Hamlet: It's easy-peasy now he's on his knees, So bob's your uncle: he can meet his Maker, And then I'm quits. Here; hang on, wait a tick —

Some badhat rubs my dad out, and yours truly, His only nipper, packs this badhat's bags For the happy hunting-ground?

That's cheque-book murder, I don't get my own back.

He knocked my dad off like a greedy porker, And didn't bat an eyelid, went the whole hog: While God alone knows what it all adds up to. From where I stand, and if I trust my mincers, He's in it up to his neck. So am I quits To waste him while he's puking up his soul To make the pearly gates as white as Persil? Cobblers!

My sword can stick it till a proper carve-upi (Nell L. Wregble) The Merchant of Venice, Act IV, Scene I Shylock: I'll not back out. Portia: Gents all, this chit's no bottle. It's OK for the Teapot lid to grab

A lump of meat that he's allowed to chop From off this geezer's ribs. — Man, have 'a heart: Treble the bread; forget the IOU.

Shylock: Sure, once it's all Sir Garnet and Paid off. It looks like you're a lawman knows his stuff; You don't talk through your titfer, you're fair dinkum,

You dropped no clangers and you got it right- So now I'm briefing you, as a swell judge, Cough up the verdict, for I'll take my davy There's not a cove alive can talk me round. Don't sweet-chat me, I'm sticking to my deal.

Antonio: Hell, for the love of Mike let's hear the worst. Portia: Well, mate, it's tough, but he's going to do the dirt: The bastard's out to stick his knife in you• (P. K. Brown/