ISLE OF

II)RA

Old story, new twist

J aspistos

,N . aYMPI: i*li.)N NO 3954 riding with the

— ',c oz's 'Conclusion'.

k. J (substitutine. 'her r -

• aashed with an ingenious

;-w,s; •. . 7 T:..±11,. interested mt.. but ,:ea. , 11.-.t of writers benefits up .i 'al, .tart. and because r p.hths1),I reader. 1 married , Fortia's sly confession

- Ot course we. put my

p..t; \ e:se. in all three ca s- - k. 1-11,1,. wasn't anything in

• tlic kepi my promise not i... choose And you know Inc. prizewinners, printed below. get L2U each. and the bottle of Isle of Jura Single Malt Scotch whisky is D.A. Prince's.

At six months h: aCk. a rusk in my ear and I hit him with ni■ ::,;iii At five he boasted he could pee a golden al: and I couldn't. and cried. At ten he formed cigarette-smoking gang. and wouldn't lei: ire. joir,. At 11 he said I could, and 1 told hirr, t.,•, drop dead. At 15 he had more spots than a leopard At 18 he offered The Sound of Musu (Wide Screen), and I went to The Grateful Dead. At 25 he joined the Young Conservatives, and I camped at Gieenharn. At 30 he was an .arms dealer. and I rolled spliffs. At 35 he was worth millions in utility share options. and I sold Socialist Worker. At 40 he renounced worldly affairs, became a Catholic priest and. rapidly. a bishop. At last he had given me the challenge I craved. Reader, I marred

(D.A. Prince) She had known. naturally. that a candle-lit din- ner would not weaken my iron resolve. and that my rigorous regime of cold baths and raw turnip would have rendered my breast impervious to the tender passion, even towards one of consid- erably more personal allure. Instead she urged her potential usefulness. 'All I wish. my dear: she pleaded, clasping my hand. 'is to be of some small service to such genius as yours. There must he some area of your domestic life which might be eased or brightened by a woman's touch.' Sure that there was no chink in my armour. I reiterated my intellect.:.:,: integnty. my practical self-sufficiency. nitInds,mitable independence of

spirit. Bet she .,- d'all for me.

'AL! she cried. 'My dearest.

can it he Ir.,: na not ieLrne..i cow

hov, yon: right-nand fingernails-

Reader. I married her (M.R. Woocihead)

My most worrying problem as Archbishop arose 15 years ago when I was asked to officiate at the royal wedding I was. as a biographer has written elsewhere. concerned that this was an arranged marriage and not the love match that the Prince Would have preferred. Would he enter seriously into marriage vows'' What should I do? Would my conscience let me conduct the ceremony? My sleep was disturbed: I had this recurring night- mare in which I reached the point where I asked. 'Does anyone -.1.7.ow of any reason why these two

should not b: HO Matrimony?' and after th seconds' silence found myself saying. 'has one any objections? \J ell, I have!' Would I have the courage to do this in St Paul's' In the event. I think that nearly every- one in the world knows what I did. Reader. 1 rnarrieci (I. Kinsman) S see the smog fea-

m.res of Nigel Croach on your television each night^ Sick of hearing him reel off incomprehen- sible ----• and hence incontrovertible — statistics in that' patronisingly reassuring voice of his? Tired of his endless appeals for family values when you know he's glad his lob keeps him at great enough distance from his own family to allow sentimentality to apply? Enraged by his puffed-up patriotism at conference. invective that flows so freely when he knows he'll never be called on to fight' All these things rightly annoy and anger you. But what if you had to see that face every morn- ing over breaVast. listen to him practising sin- cerity in the bath, believe his excuses for missing his daughter's birthday party, see him frightened of spiders while claiming bravado?

I have to see these things. Reader, I married him. (Adrian Fry)

I had engaged with a Mr Clifford. a society con- sultant. to make the best of my fate. He had. it st,ems. been given intelligence — I mean, of my position. of the vicious straits of fortune that so constrained mt. I had been a princess, I had been a starveling. I had been paid a small for- tune for asking questions where it was improper for me to open my mouth. And now through no fault' of my own. I had become pregnant with ten children. after winning the lottery with stolen numbers. At this low point, I was introduced by

Mr Clifford to an archbishop who had begotten a child during a motorway protest. This gentle cleric had also forsaken his vows to become a professional snooker player. Both the church- man and I had ceased to be newsworthy tor three weeks. And for this tragic reason, tender, I married him. (Bill Greenweill) I met a wonderful man. He was so dishy. We fell madly in love. It was high romance. 1 could not imagine life without him. We. were not happy unless we were together. Reader. 1 married him I cooked his meals, ironed his shirts, listened to his repetitions by day' and his snoring by night. I divorced him.

I met a wonderful man. He was so dishy! We tell madly in love, It' was high romance. I could not imagine life without him. We were. not happy unless we were together.

Reader. I married him. (T. Griffiths)

No. 1957: Out of their depth

Suggested by MM. Hemingway on flower arrangement. Henry James on. TV wrestling . . You are invited to supply an imaginary passage from a famous author or person writing on a wildly inappropriate subject. Maximum 150 words. Entries to 'Competition No. 1957' by 31 October.