COMPETITION

The biter bit

Jaspistos

In Competition No. 1660 you were in- vited to parody any single regular item in Private Eye.

This was good foul fun. The two most elusive targets were the two most frequent- ly chosen — E. J. Thribb's work and Great Bores of Today. Veronica Pond had a good go at Street of Shame: 'Luscious Sun hackette Debbie Green, sent to interview Ned Sherrin the other day, found the ageing boulevardier in sparkling form, and vastly less gay than some reports sug- gest . . .' and Hazel Stanley's Dear Thel- ma letter from Norma Major had its moments — 'John says I can't go shopping round the sales even with my security man. They had a terrible time last week when two of them had to come to the opera.

Apparently they drew lots and the losers came.'

The prizewinners printed below take £15 each, and the bonus bottle of Chivas Regal 12-year-old de luxe blended whisky goes to Hilary Patrinos.

The raging Magi are at it again. Desperately casting around for ways to revive the flagging fortunes of his prophecy subsidiary, Caspar `Camel-Shagger' Magus has persuaded wily Cousin Melchior (he of the export trade in certain highly-scented substances) and young Balthasar, from the family's expanding African branch, to join him in an all-expenses-paid trek by luxury camel train through the Middle East. The stunt's aim remains obscure, but 'Camel- Shagger' will receive regular situation reports from his private mini-satellite, orbiting (such the power of modern technology, backed by Magus millions) constantly in its master's view.

An angry King Herod denies all knowledge of the trekking troika. Eye readers will recall that allegations of gold-smuggling by the Israeli Royals were recently exposed as blatant lies. Certain Nazarene dissidents have paid the prop- er price of calumny. As the proverb says, `No tongue, no evil speech.'

(Hilary Patrinos) Great Bores of Today

. . apparently there are just a handful of them all terribly brainy and scholarly and whatever mostly retired Civil Servants and they've got nothing much to do all day so they write these parodies all frightfully brilliant and pithy com- ments only a mere mortal can't always under- stand them Alasdair met one of them once a fellow called Martin Fagg only that's a pseudonym he has to keep his identity hush- hush I believe he's a high-up in the Archbishop's entourage and he was a bit disappointed I had a go myself you had to make up misprints in famous book titles and I sent The Wind in the Pillows but it didn't win Alasdair says the whole thing's a carve-up anyway the winning one's weren't nearly so apt but apparently if you weren't at University with the judge you don't stand much chance and it seems Graham

Greene. . . ' (Gerard Benson) E. J. Thribb So The Listener Has closed down After sixty years.

Keith's mum looked sad, But I do not grieve As I never ever saw A copy of the Listener Or heard of anyone Buying and reading it, Though perhaps Keith's mum did. (George Moor) True Stories Speaking from the dock on the third day of his trial at the Central High Court, Mr Bamba Buggabogna testified that it was not until he had scored a hat-trick for the home side that he recognised the football with which the teams were playing as the severed head of his mother- in-law, Mrs Sheila Mumboogu. Responding to questions from Mr Dillip Ventilator, prosecut- ing, Mr Buggabogna said that he was given the head by a representative of the Matutsi Football Club immediately prior to kick-off after being told that the orange-coloured Gola Sportif he had intended to use would be offensive to the visiting team, a large number of whom were fathered by Irish missionaries. It was only on retrieving the head from the back of the net after scoring his third goal that he began to see the resemblance. (Hilary Coyote) Literary Review The little corner of metropolitan literary life that is for ever arslikhan is as prompt as ever to echo the literary fashions of America. Hence the heavy boosting of Henry James, whose labo- rious syntax and heavy-footed soap-opera plots furnish a good substitute for Largactil. H. G. Wells, outsider and `oik', was sandbagged for failing to take the Master seriously, while Rebecca West (who once conducted Ugandan discussion with Wells) is currently getting the cold shoulder from votaries of the shrine. The reason? She dismissed the snobbish, 'sad' author as a pseud.

A fair example of James's 'art' is The Ambas- sors, which uses the leaden cliche of a prudish American waking up to sex, life and beauty in Paris. This Lambert Strether (the names of James's characters are usually dyslexic) would make Madame Tussauds look like Mardi Gras. Come back, Jeffrey Archer, all is forgiven.

(Basil Ransome-Davies) Yes, it's Rhyming Slang Hislop, Ian: Rather plebeian Satirical writing: Rare sighting Auberon Waugh: No more Sally Deedes: Who reads?

Sylvie Krin: Wearing thin Horn Sap: The drawing's crap Lord Gnome: Old people's home Business News: Everyone sues Carter Ruck: Fast buck Selling Poorly: Shame mistake, shurely?

(Anthony Goodman)