COMPETITION ov a As RE 04t

12 YEAR OLD SCOTCH WHISKY

12 YEAR OLD SCOTCH WHISKY

Arthur's answer

Jaspistos

In Competition No. 1616 you were in- vited to continue, 'in a Tennysonian man- ner', from a given first line, not unlike one in Idylls of the King.

Perhaps the best parody of Tennyson's blank verse is Chesterton's version of 'Old King Cole', beginning 'Cole, that un- wearied prince of Colchester', which is to be found in J.C. Squire's anthology of parodies, Apes and Parrots (grab it, second-hand, if you see it). I've nothing else to add but commendations to Bridget Loney, Carolyn Beckingham and George Moor. The winners printed below get f11 each and the bonus bottle of Chivas Regal 12-year-old de luxe blended whisky goes to Tony Joseph, whose entry, though not all that Tennysonian, made me laugh aloud.

And slowly answered Arthur from the bar, His glass of lemonade cupp'd to his breast:

`I would have played a spinner, Medlycott

Or Eddie Hemmings, rather than rely On just four faster men and maybe Gooch.

But how it warms the cockles of your heart To have an English victory for once, Especially after all these weeks of gales And rain and floods. I hear some people blame The devastation on the Government, On Mrs Thatcher personally. I weep To see that lady yet again traduced.'

Then Arthur drained his glass, drew on his coat, And hobbled from the inn into the street, And back inside was heard the sad remark: `Old Scargill's quite a different man these days.' (Tony Joseph) And slowly answered Arthur from the bar, As in a graceful pile he bent low: `Once more tonight I'll dance the dying king, But then no more. My legs aren't what they were.'

Recalled he then how once those famous thighs (Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful) Had fired the giddy dreams of graceful girls. Bethought he too of friends with whom he'd faced Impassive matinees, atonal scores, Mad choreographers. Where were they now? All gone, to marry, or to tend strained knees. Some served in wine-bars, one sold kitchen foil, And others taught aerobics, sorry fate. Tonight companionless must he explore The softly shining level of the stage, And sadly dance, until the last lights fade. (George Simmers)

And slowly answered Arthur from the bar: `I heard, or thought I heard, a direful voice Which indicated, by its calls of "Time!", That now — ay, now; not later maybe —I Should make my preparations to depart. Though not unclouded is the ancient head That sits upon these shoulders, I discern— For, though I am of venerable age, I still may say I know a thing or two Discern, without this House, a howling gale Blow from the horrid heights of Ludgate Hill. As when, on island-crags of Lyonesse, The shepherds count the isobars, and they . • •' Whereat the unbending guardian of the place Propelled him with precision to the door: `Courage!' he said, and pointed toward the

Strand. (P.I. Fell) And slowly answered Arthur from the bar: 'The old order changeth, yielding place to new, For all at once there falters in my mind A thought that seems to flicker on the mere; Nor, Merlin gone, can any man on earth Say whence it comes; but still it has its way And tracks its little pattern to and fro.

The hour is late. `Tis time that I were gone;

But first, I charge you, bring a single malt.

We see God's wisdom clearly in the blends Which, sound as bread, sustain our daily life; And yet there flashes on the exiled heart A sharper longing, ever and anon, For those dear Glens which held our careless youth: Livet, —morangie, —farclas, —fiddick, Grant; But, most of all, unparallelled Macallan.'

(M. R. Macintyre) And slowly answer'd Arthur from the bar: `My old order changeth. Pour me something new — A rum and It, perhaps, or gin and Coke Might form a taste sensation unsurpass'd By common mixtures swallow'd hitherto By me, your most devoted regular. Use your imagination. Conjure up Some draught deserving of a Nobel prize To glad my spirit. After all, I've sat For aeons on the self-same padded stool The worse for wear (the stool as well as me) While, from my wallet, coins have fled like doves To seek their nests in the insatiate maw Of your grim till. And if I then pass out Bear me with bays to some secluded isle.

(Elizabeth Hogg) And slowly answered Arthur from the bar, As though a curse had fallen on his lips And made him utter in a barbarous tongue The aspirations of his band of men: 'The bosses' actions definitely prove That at this point in time they seek to use Intimidation and the threat of force, And furthermore this attitude is backed By government and by the Tory press, Yet, notwithstanding, we shall press our claim Until the final victory is ours.'

Then all joined in in singing 'Here we go' And hoisted banners for a grand parade And raised their fists in solidarity And marched behind their fiery president Into a future clouded and unknown.

(Basil Ransome-Davies) And slowly answered Aruthur from the bar, The while he gently sipped a Camelot, Most potent of the many heady draughts Which that most flash and brash of hostelries, The Lancelot and Guinevere, dispensed: `Now, Gentleman, and Fellow Members of The Board of Project Avalon, at last Our shining task is ended. Now, each bold Display, each brave attraction stands complete: "Geraint and Enid's Bower of Nuptial Bliss"; "The Grotto of the Lady of the Lake"; "Old Merlin's Magick Mart"; "The Galahad Experience" — we've got the flaming lot. Today, on every side, theme parks abound; But this of ours, I dare to boast, in sheer Gross, crass vulgarity exceeds them all.'

(Martin Fagg)