COMPETITION

Improving on Lear

Jaspistos

IN COMPETITION NO. 2061 you were invited to improve on a limerick by Lear, using an opening line of his and carrying on in your own way. In my report on the recent 'Mental slug- ging' competition I wondered whether there had been instances of physical vio- lence by chess tournament players. Gordon Gwilliams (a prizewinner) tells me that at his London club a member was expelled and the police were involved after 'a quite dreadful attack, which included using the clock as a weapon'. He adds the case of Nimzowitsch, who resigned from a game of lightning chess by standing on his chair and shouting, 'Why must I lose to this idiot?' My quirky mind couldn't help thinking of a man who improved on Lear in a different way — Nahum Tate, the 17th-century Poet Laureate, who rewrote the last act to give the play a happy ending, an 'improvement' which remained the standard stage text until 1840. 'I was brought up to believe', writes Richard Tracey, 'that there were three types of limerick: those you could tell in mixed company, those you could tell to clergymen, and limericks.' In distributing the awards, I have made room for all three. The prizewinners, printed below, get £10 per limerick, and the bottle of The Mac- allan The Malt Scotch whisky goes to 0. Banfield.

There was an old man of Thermopylae Who was eyeing the Spartan boys soppily. Said a virtuous young lad, 'Be off with you, Dad, And, mind, do your trousers up properly!' (0. Banfield) There was an old man who forgot Why he had to remember and what There was needed to do, By who and for who, And why it was so or why not. (Micky Munro) There was an old man of Melrose Who was constantly counting his toes. When they asked why this was,

He replied, 'It's because I'm a miser at heart, I suppose.'

(David Cram) There was a young lady from Norway Who stood in a Westminster doorway Telling those who hold power, 'It's fifty an hour, And a hundred if we do it your way.'

(Michael Swan) There was an old man on the Humber Who passed every night without slumber.

Though he tried counting sheep, What deprived him of sleep Was needing to write down their number.

(Godfrey Bullard) There was an old person of Shoreham Who would buttonhole people and bore 'em. If he chose to attend, Any meeting would end With the sudden collapse of the quorum.

(Esdon Frost) There was an old man of Cape Horn Who sighed, 'Since the day I was born I've been feted in verses, And what's so much worse is That most of the stuff is sheer porn.'

(Jeremy Lawrence) There was an old lady of Chertsey Who made a remarkable curtsey.

`I'm afraid,' said the Queen, `That was rather obscene, And there's dirt, see, all over your skirt, see?'

(Paul Griffin) There was a young lady in white, Which showed up quite well in the night — Which is how, on her beat, Nicole came to meet Her Papa, as he cruised on the right.

(Alyson Nikiteas) There was an old person of Gretna Whose lust was inflamed by his retina.

If a certain young lass From Kirkcudbright should pass He would leap from his wheelchair and set on her. (Norman Bissett) There was a young lady of Dorking Who held the world record for talking.

She politely returned The hind legs she had earned: 'The donkey may need them for walking.'

(Arthur Hall) There was an old man of the Coast Who was brassed off with acting the host. 'There's no booze, chums,' he said, 'For I'm actually dead.

What you're seeing is really my ghost.'

(Elizabeth Hogg) There was an old man of Toulouse Who held strong political views.

With three names on his vote To choose from, he wrote, Ve refuse! Je refuse! Je refine. (Geoffrey Riley) There was an old person of Jodd Who thought he'd turned into a cod Till, on one of his swims, He miscounted his limbs

And yelled, 'I'm a cephalopod!'(Giles Ewing)

There was an old person from Brussels Whose misapplied cerebral muscles Framed such mind-blowing laws As could easily cause Bouts of boiling in British corpuscles.

(Jonathan Sleigh)