COMPETITION

Metre and meter

Jaspistos

IN COMPETITION NO. 2124 you were invited to write a taxi-driver's poem.

This begged for the lyrical talent of W.S. Gilbert, though even he would have been. hard put to find rhymes for 'taxi' — once you've used 'waxy', you're left with nothing but the unsatisfactory Greek 'en taxi'. There's room only for four prizewinners (£25 each), but special mentions go to Anne Du Croz, Noel Petty, G.M. Davis, Andrew Gibbons and Ralph Rochester, whose driver sang of how he tried to 'pick up' luvly Rita' at the end of the ride: '0 my fare, just say the word!'

'Don't touch watcher can't afford!'

Is orl she sez, an' so they parted, Pore ol' cabbie, broken-'arted.

The bottle of the Macallan Single Malt Highland Scotch whisky is won by Gerard Benson.

'Let's all go down the Strand,' the young man

cried.

'Not in my cab, sir. I can take just four, And that's my lot,' I quietly replied.

'It's really not my fault, sir. It's the law.'

'Oh, come on, boy. We'll pay you double fare.' And like a fool I said, 'OK. Pile in.' And in they piled. I said a little prayer And set off for the Strand, via Gray's Inn.

I took the old back-doubles, like you do, Dodging the blue lamps, but they started singing.

I said, 'Hush up!' but would they? Not this crew.

With `Sospan Bach' they had the old crate swinging.

So I got nobbled. Course I did. Not half. No licence now, so I can't ply for hire.

You drove the Goons once, did you? What a laugh!

I took the Merthyr Tydfil Male Voice Choir. (Gerard Benson)

I'll see you again, And let it be in pouring rain; You'll stick your hand out and cry, I'll drive right by And soak your footwear.

You wrecked my upholstery, And through the booze directed me Via Islington to Tooting Bee.

You wrote a cheque That bounced in Mayfair.

I like Yanks and Nips Who think I'm cute and give huge tips; And now I've a sign that says Please No more MPs, Not now, not ever.' (Nick Syrett) My old man said, 'Follow the van', So I trailed him for miles on my bike From Aldgate to Hampstead And Highgate to Plumstead And all round St Paul's and the like. Though I got saddle sores it was all in the cause Of putting me on the right road: He gave me the knowledge You don't get from college Or find in the old Highway Code.

With my own A to Z all mapped out in my

head, I took the exams in my stride, And drove from the garage In Dad's hackney carriage To follow the trade he had plied.

(W.J. Webster) Moon River, wider than a mile, You're not as wide as my cabbie's smile. The world and his wife sound off at me, From blimps to weirdos — and I agree. Don't tell me! Counselling? Shouldn't smack?

You ask me, mate, we need Churchill back. I'm with you. Always shufti the stars. They reckon my moon's in sync with Mars. Struggle on, don't we? Lord knows how. My poor old Dad's on Prozac now.

Shearer? He's finished. Still the best.

Goes on for ever. Needs a rest.

What keeps me smiling? I always know I'll call the shots when they up and go.

I wink at the meter with rotten glee,

Then ask for my dosh — and they agree.

(Chris Tingley)

No. 2127: Making meanings

The following ten words are proper names, the capital letters replaced by lower-case ones: ravoon, drogo, dorking, adidas, bbc, troon, chaucer, stogumber, dreft, schwenck. You are invited to supply a piece of prose (maximum 150 words), the words occuring in any order and being given some sort of new meaning by their context. You are allowed to use variant forms, e.g. `dro- goesque' or `stogumbering'. Entries to 'Competition No. 2127' by 9 March.