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COMPETITION

Local prejudice

Jaspistos

IN COMPETITION NO. 1987 you were invited to describe scurrilously, in the verse-form of Rupert Brooke's 'Grant- chester', the characteristics of neighbour- ing villages or city boroughs or districts.

As a Londoner, my eyes were out on stalks at some of your revelations. Accord- ing to Annelise McArdle, 'All Richmond loos are salmon-pink,/Kew believes Hooch to be a drink,/And Chiswick girls of gentle birth/Are sold as slaves to Isleworth.' Stan- ley J. Sharpless issued this warning: 'As for neighbouring Chadwell Heath,/Close your eyes and grit your teeth/And tread as softly as you can:/Nearby lingers Essex Man.' A grand entry. Thank you all.

The prizewinners, printed below, have £25 each, and the bonus bottle of Isle of Jura Single Malt Scotch whisky goes this week to Carolyn Beckingham.

The people who inhabit Ripe Delight to gossip, carp and snipe; The news is very seldom good That emanates from Muddleswood, And rumours such as fly round Firle Will cause the straightest hair to curl. Full many a man has lost his mind Because of snubs received at Glynde, And those who rashly visit Climping Are given kicks that leave them limping. You're wise if, doing as you're bid, You keep away from Warninglid. Skeleton Hovel's earned the name Which brought it such an evil fame, Nor dare I hint what lurks beneath The harmless sound of Haywards Heath.

(Carolyn Beckingham) God! I will pack, and take a train, And flee North London once again! For Cricklewood is full of crooks, And Mill Hill mums write dirty books, And there's no doubt, if looks could kill, They'd all be dead in Muswell Hill, And it's been said in Tufnell Park That tombs are opened after dark; In Hendon there are grannies who Spend all their Sundays sniffing glue; In Barnsbury, it's my belief That every other man's a thief, And all the clergy are quite bent In Kentish Town. It's time I went Back home again. Ah, would I were In Manchester, in Manchester! (Ron Rubin) In Cape Town men get drunk and fight And beat their wives, night after night.

Both boys and girls forget to wash Behind their ears in Stellenbosch, And nothing is too vile and low For folks in Elgin and Grabouw.

In Fransch Hoek things you'd not repeat Are shouted at you in the street, And as for rural Barrydale The men you see are out on bail.

In Parow and in Durbanville Most people dine on scraps and swill.

In Malmesbury they slur their rs And spend their lives in seedy bars.

Even parsons have been heard to pray, `Preserve me, Lord, from Gordons Bay!'

(John Harvey) The residents of Balsa!! Heath Converse in grunts to hide their teeth, While Erdington is home to those

With much worse things they do expose.

It's often said of Yardley folk They need a glass to see a joke; And when men speak at Bordesley Green Who else but they know what they mean?

A Moseley dweller lives in fear Of no one buying him a beer, While those who live in Edgbaston Would rather die than buy you one.

The denizens of Digbeth prize The ancient art of telling lies, But when it comes to downright cheating The Harborne people take some beating.

(W.J. Webster) In Puddletown they're old and bent And generally incontinent (In Piddletrenthide it's the same); All Weymouth girls are on the game; The residents of Osmington Chuck stones at guillemots for fun; On Portland Bill it's never warm, So incest tends to be the norm; At Abbotsbury what they do To swans would seem bizarre to you; Cerne Abbas has a giant that Makes local men inadequate; In Bradford Peverell life's so slow They sit and watch the turnips grow: All reasons why it's plain to see

That Dorchester's the place to be!

(Peter Norman) The Bradford men are foully spoken, Their oaths are gross, and always broken; And Baildon men, when deep in drink, Are taken for the missing link; In Idle everybody skives, In Manningham they sell their wives; Negotiations worse than those Are standard practice up at Wrose; I swear you will not find a cop Who'll walk alone on Odsal Top, And even in pairs they never dare To brave the pavements of Saltaire; Rather than wed a man from Bingley There's scores of girls that now live singly; And people forfeit all their friends Who set up home at Five Lane Ends.

(Gerard Benson)

No. 1990: Tales in school

The prestige of the school story seems to have declined in recent years. You are invited to set matters right by providing an extract from a school story by a well-known novelist whom one cannot easily imagine venturing into this area. Maximum 150 words. Entries to 'Competition No. 1990' by 3 July.