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`These I have loved . . . '

Jaspistos

IN COMPETITION NO. 1974 you were invited to write a poem in praise of brand- names and brand-images, past or present.

`Boulding, Armitage and Shanks,' sang J.C.M. Hepple, releasing in me a flood of remembered lavatory names. At home we had a 'Magnate', which made sense since our family referred to excretion as 'doing business', and a 'Shark', which scared me shitless. At Oxford I discovered an 'Ogan' (some obscure Norse god?), the first pub- lisher's I worked at boasted a 'Middle- march' (apt, eh?), but can anybody explain to me why one loo in these offices is named `Allia', a famous early victory of the Gauls over the Romans? Nostalgia compels me to quote the magnificent opening sentence on the old Bromo packet: 'Bromo is a strong, soft sheet of toilet paper, unsur- passed in quality and durability because it has been made out of materials that have been cooked under steam pressure for hours before being reduced to the consis- tency necessary for making into paper.' There's prose for you! The winners, print- ed below, take £25 each, and the bottle of Isle of Jura Single Malt Scotch whisky goes to E. Hugh Stokes.

On holidays and high days like the Feast of the Assumption I'd ply the old 0-Cedar mop and scour the bath with Gumption; I'd use hygienic Sanilav (which Cleans Right Round the Bend), To polish all the brass I had a tin of Soldier's Friend, I'd spray the merry Windolene, put Bromo by the loo, And then I'd put my feet up with a cup of hot Typhoo.

What memories those names recall! Come, share their joys with me: 0 Bermalene! 0 Gennolene! 0 Mazawattee Tea! We'll celebrate the Wall's Ice Cream (More than a Treat — a Food), And quaff our Mackeson's Milk Stout (It Does You Double Good). Now Which Twin has the Toni? We'll ask the Listening Bank, And stop off on the way to put a Tiger in the Tank.

And when at last the day is done, I'll rest my weary head On a Dunlopillo mattress in a Nesbit-Evans bed.

(E. Hugh Stokes) Days of languor, days of leisure, Pipe smoke in the sultry air, Baldwin puffing Parson's Pleasure, Honest men with their Four Square.

Rich Sobranie for the wealthy, Capstan for the working type, Unaware that smoke's unhealthy And delighting in a pipe.

Gold Block's name made it sound grander, Though St Bruno was as nice. Pre-apartheid's Afrikander Was remarkable for price.

In a tin came Three Nuns, blended, In a pouch came Erinmore.

Days of innocence, now ended!

There's no pleasure any more. (D. Shepherd) Ah Bisto! Once the scent of it Pervaded houses like a dream. Brass gewgaws glowed with Duraglit, Sun-bright, refulgent and agleam. Remember Force and Sunny Jim, Meccano, Minic, Dinky toys?

Names time has made remote and dim Were music to the ears of boys.

In adolescence one was proud To wear a Hepworth's suit and tie. One used to smoke a Passing Cloud While Ingersoll watched time go by.

For brands — like people — life is tragic.

They age and die, and there's a quota That have the power but not the magic: Like Sony, JVC, Toyota.

(Basil Ransome-Davies) Magical days: of Oxo cubes In spanking crimson tins, And billboard horses plugging Zubes With broad and toothy grins.

Libby's 'contented cows' were a firm Hit with this wide-eyed kid, And Eucryl, with its dotty worm Emblazoned on the lid.

Tobacconists' windows soon enticed. I'd gaze, an awestruck fixture, At Baby's Bottom and Walnut Sliced And Presbyterian Mixture.

Time clatters on; such joys must end. But still my thoughts drift back, As I pensively suck a Fisherman's Friend Or ponder the Hobnob pack.

(Chris Tingley) Much-loved products of my childhood, Giving Mum a helping hand: Min for shining up the Broadwood, Doorsteps scrubbed with Monkey Brand, Lino bright with Mansion Polish, Silvo cleaning special plate, Brasso vanquishing all tarnish, Zebo blackening the grate, Oxydol, those washday doubles Colman's Starch and Reckitt's Blue, Friday bath with Pear's — such bubbles! - Shampooed with Amami too.

Then the nightcap, Rowntree's Cocoa, Aching head by Aspro eased, And HMV's nostalgic echo, While her hoarded Players pleased.

(Alanna Blake)