COMPETITION
No. 772: All sitting comfy Set by David Phillips: Two of Graham Greene's children's stories are to be fePublished. Competitors are invited to provide extracts from hitherto undiscovered children's books by other established authors (Past or present) not known for their work in this genre. Entries to 'Competition 772 ' by aeptember 27.
No. 769: The winners Some verses were chosen from Frances Cornford, addressing the fat white woman Whom nobody loved. Miss Cornford wondered Why she walked through fields in gloves, and competitors were asked to reply in a similar vein.
The plight of the lady tended to bring out a vein of romanticism in some of our competit°rSi which although touching did not bring out the best in the versifiers. Other emires noted that Miss Cornford should be reported to the Race Relations Board for the pejorative Luse of white.' The lady's replies tended to harp upon common themes, one of•the most favoured being an unfortunate case of skindisease which made the gloves necessary. Other entries hinted at nefarious designs on her Part, murder and train-robbery being high on the list, but one competitor suggested that She was about to play cricket. P-t I tht.; • 'ht these the best — two pounds to Mr Sweetman and three pounds each to the others:
I walk through the fields in gloves, my dear, Because that's how a lady must dress, You may think wearing gloves, in the country, is queer, But the dictates of fashion are perfectly clear, So you've simply no call whatever to sit there and sneer, Or imply that I'm rather a mess. I walk through the fields in gloves, my dear, Because that's how a lady must dress.
Please don't think that I mind what you said, dear. Perhaps you felt ill in the train.
Your favourite poems, refined and austere, Will not be remembered much more than a year While this fragment of nonsense in which I appear, Will be quoted again and again.
Mr Sweetrnan
0 why do you have such a thing about gloves? Scribbling so much and so much!
0 fanciful poet whom nobody loves, Who told you I walked through the fields in gloves? The grass was too wet, and those perishing doves Were shivering cold to the touch. I stayed in the Rolls in my furs and my gloves Sipping so much and so much.
I'm proud of being white, and who wouldn't be fat Noshing so much and so much?
But I'm loved by my chauffeur, my dogs and my cat, And sometimes by Martha who stays at the flat. 0 the wind and the wet would have ruined my hat, Blowing so much and so much.
Noel Woolf
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