COMPETITION

Dome pome

Jaspistos

IN COMPETITION NO. 2021 you were invited to write a poem in praise or mock- ery of the Millennium Dome.

Though a few hurrahs were raised, the consensus was that the Dome is a Bad Thing. Many of you were intrigued, as I am, by the free 'toilet tepees' or 'beacons of relief, 24 conical towers (`temples of convenience') enshrining the latest in lava- torial technology, such as motion-sensitive taps and cubicle doors made of transparent liquid crystal which turns opaque as soon as the door is locked. (If the mechanism fails, Granny is sure to sue.) At the heart of each tepee there is an inner sanctum for an exhibition of the history of sanitation. After the celebration of the Greenwich mysteries, these numinous cones will be on offer to go-ahead British municipalities. Great, indeed, is the goddess Cloaca!

The prizewinners, printed below, are awarded £25 each, and the bonus bottle of The Macallan The Malt Scotch whisky is the property of Ray Kelley.

0 modern marvel! Dome immense, With the potential To make far-out experience Experiential, You'll free us from the mean, the low, The petty nuisance,

When we stand aureoled in the glow Of your translucence. You tingle spine and boggle brain; We go all trembly

To think your vastness could contain A dual Wembley!

We've seen your twelfth and final rod • Go heavenward soaring: You may be costly but, by God, You won't be boring! (Ray Kelley) Earth has not anything to show more grand: Mean would he be of soul who could deride A sight that will draw crowds from far and wide. Let us then praise that dedicated band Of spinners and PR men who have planned

This mighty symbol of New Britain's pride, The stately Pleasure Dome that will provide A fun Experience based on Disneyland.

What marvels shall we see within its walls? As yet we know not, though the rumours run Opinion polls will choose what fills its halls. Yet one thing's certain, when all's said and done: Wren, who designed that quaint old dome, St Paul's, Must now take second place to Mandelson, (Geoffrey Riley) What shall we do with it, what shall we do with it After (let's say) twenty-ten?

Won't it, when smart apparatchiks are through with it, Look a bit weary by then?

What shall we do with it? Must have a coup with it, Something that's sexy and hot.

We could make the first eco-computerised zoo with it.

Virtual fauna, why not?

What shall we do with it? Who can we woo with it?

Someone from over the sea, Who'll carve out a theme pub and market a brew with it — Mandy's Old Comfort maybe? What shall we do with it? Nothing's taboo with it, Something sensational. Hi,

Why not make a gigantic marmoreal loo with it? (There's an experience, say I.) (Chris Tingley)

Hagia Sophia, St Peter's Dome Glitter still with ancient fire: Unflying saucer, cowpat dome, Newly lies in Greenwich mire.

Grey breast without a dug, New, monotonously dead. Abject millennium bug, Sans tail, sans head.

New times, new hype, New coin for new nation.

New everything the archetype Of architectural emasculation.

New Experience dome, we're told, Is newly modern. Entre nous, New's a word that's oversold: Nothing is as old as new. (T. Griffiths) It's going to be the millennium soon And all the manufacturers are whistling a merry tune, And another merry tune, and then one more tune, Because they're going to make a fortune, Not to mention a bomb, a mint and a packet. How about millennium soap on a millennium rope, or a millennium Internet-surfing jacxet? Or millennium coasters and pop-up millennium toasters? You can buy them all in the Millennium Dome Where they'll make you feel at home By offering you home-made millennium toffee, Souvenir millennium beer, millennium coffee And millennium quiche and sandwiches and tea and cakes and ices At prices That only a millenniumaire can afford.

So when it's all over let's take our hands out of our empty pockets and applaud And give guess how many cheers For the fact that the bloody thing only comes once every thousand years. (Michael Swan)