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;SILL 10,115(010.1115E1

COMPETITION

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51, St Y 11.1 SC07(11,551551

Millennial madness

Jaspistos

IN COMPETITION NO. 2000 you were invited to report, as an eye-witness, three startling events or incidents which might suitably or unsuitably occur in the Year of the Millennium.

`In Hyde Park I find combative groups of Seventh-day Adventists and Christadelph- ians, each claiming the dawn of the Millen- nium with differing theologies. Hectic fighting breaks out. . . . ' Basil Ransome- Davies's vision set me checking up on the millenarians. The Seventh-day Adventists grew out of a movement begun by William Miller, an American who preached that the world would end about 1843 — Millerian millenarians! The Christadelphians are sometimes called Thomasites after the unfortunately named founder John Thomas (1805-71), whose sell-by date seems to have passed. And then there are the Irvingites, named after a 19th-century Scotch clergyman whose translation, The Coming of the Messiah, was supposedly written by a Christian Jew but actually by a Spanish Jesuit! The prizewinners, printed below, take £25 each, and the bonus bottle of Isle of Jura Single Malt Scotch whisky goes to Vivian Linacre.

At last I saw him, this miraculous infant the whole world is talking about. He looks a perfect- ly normal toddler yet is apparently omniscient, explaining to the media in every language that while his Second Coming was timed for the Millennium, the human calendar is three years out.

It is wonderful to see the centenarian Queen Mother and the recently abdicated Queen so happily witnessing not only King Charles III's coronation but also his installation as Lord Protector, to public acclaim. By heading the new all-party government he has overcome the pro- tracted constitutional crisis.

Here at the Olympic Games in Sydney, the British team is celebrating a great victory: the gold medal in the men's 100 metres! This athlet- ics triumph is not diminished in any way by the disqualification, for failing drug tests, of all seven other finalists who finished ahead.

(Vivian Linacre) Hurrying on from Barnsley station, I stood wedged in the expectant crowd. At last, his pana- ma waved aloft to acknowledge the cheers, Mr Geoffrey Boycott emerged from his home, the first MP for his ground-breaking Millennium Three Do It Right Party. His face radiated not triumph but a steady hope. Who would have dreamed the computer date crisis would produce this? The procession streamed down Piccadilly, its banners proclaim- ing 'The Lord Will Debug' and 'Nerds For God'. A moral revivalist element was reflected in T- shirts showing Queen Victoria surfing the Inter- net, ringed by the psychedelic legend, 'I WILL BE GOOD'.

The excitement redoubled as the saucer, unbearably bright now, exploded in a huge fire- ball far above us. Gasps turned to high screams, and a woman cried, 'We're saved, God be praised!' Many-coloured sparks shot from the conflagration, then coalesced to form the words: `Happy New Millennium — Peter M. and Elvis'. (Chris Tingley) Well-known artists contributed their bit to mil- lennium madness yesterday. Gilbert and George were seen walking naked along Commercial Street carrying scythes. Park warden Betty Her- bert said, 'We're used to seeing them together around here. It was interesting, I suppose, if you like that kind of thing.' Mark Wallingford's four horses, Conquest, Slaughter, Famine and Death, all came last in their races at Kempton Park. Course bookie Joe Bulitzky commented, 'It was a good day for us, because there was a lot of silly money on them.' I attended the unveiling of Damien Hirst's lat- est oeuvre at Bankside. In a dramatic switch of styles, it turned out to be a six-inch model of Big Ben. He said he had bought it at a souvenir shop in Trafalgar Square, but added that artists don't always tell the truth. Peter Mandelson said, 'This shows yet again the innovative spirit of New Britain.' (Gordon Gwilliams) 2 January: I attended a Computing-in-Crisis con- ference, to learn that data systems have decided (amongst themselves) to offer the world's boffin- ry the solution to the Great Date-Change Dilemma. Apparently, prototype number-crunch- ers like Eniac had this teaser licked in the 1950s.

British subjects, myself included, are now rou- tinely arrested by Conscience Patrol Units. Today, I left home to post a letter without my surveillance monitor (`rag-Along' being its friendlier sobriquet), the wearing of which is mandatory for journeys exceeding 50 metres. My letter requested the appropriate document granting permission to post letters.

Outside my local DIY emporium flaps a ban-

ner proclaiming, `Supersale — Everything at pre- Millennium Prices!' I ponder this: barely two days have elapsed since 1999 and already we consign recent events to a done-and-dusted epoch. History is in such a hurry nowadays. (Mike Morrison) Today sees the consecration of the first Imam of Canterbury, who has announced that even though Prince Charles has converted to Islam he has no intention of introducing Sharia law in the foreseeable future.

A-level and GCSE pass rates have reached a record high of 100 per cent. The computer disaster forecast as long ago as the early Nineties has taken place. Banks, insur- ance companies, finance houses and commercial concerns are offering lucrative salaries in their efforts to recruit retired ledger and accounts clerks able to cope manually with book-keeping.

(R.J. Pickles)