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IN COMPETITION NO. 1938 you were invited to provide a poem in the metre of `Jabberwocky' and beginning "Twas ' with a new 'portmanteau' word in every line.

Two of Carroll's inventions ('chortle' and `galumph') are a permanent part of our language. I've always thought it a pity that 'frabjous' fell by the way. Hats off to the journalists who dreamed up 'palimony', `Chunnel' and 'franglais' — they seem pretty well established. Some of your own deserved more than a moment's life, such as Dominica Roberts's `stupiotic' hat, Tim Hopkins's 'tropervating' heat, Bill Green- well's 'verbuse' and going 'perverk', Ivor Grudge's `trumphumphried' and David

Portmanteau poem

Jaspistos

Heaton's Wimbledon official, 'the unruf- feree'. The prizewinners, printed below, more than merit their £20 each, and the bonus bottle of Isle of Jura Single Malt Scotch whisky goes to Peter Norman's fantabulously witty piece.

'Twas mornoon, and at Hay-on-Wye The glitterati were verbating The latest brand of cyber-fi; Will Self was masterprating About the spitegeist; Melvyn Bragg On `mediature' had drawn a crowd Of sycolytes (as some cruel wag Had dubbed them); cragsome-browcd Ted Hughes thoughtfoxed his birds and beasts And flowers with stony gruelty While deconstructive derrivistes Psniggered with Bradbury.

Beware the Archerwock, my sons! The schlock that sells containerdollops!

Beware the thragas of the ones They call the Jabbertrollopes! (Peter Norman) 'Twas comprehoolery that made The youngsters ignudent and thick, When gramling lessons got mislaid, And out went rithmesick.

The socinotionists decreed That funication made folk sing, That students should be instrugleed In funalogicking.

Exagamations were devised Ensuring that the duldools passed, And universylums were prized Where gradiloonies massed.

The glugic day will come, alas, When gradiloonies stupchers be; Then even imbeclots will pass And gain a rubdigree. (Frank McDonald) 'Twas sprummer, and the weather gang Did prink and sniggle on the box; The air with mollication rang, And worricanes of future shocks.

'It will be fine,' swagbustered one, 'Unless of course a willipest Dampages, once the early sun Obscretes himself and takes a rest.' One fluppet did not seem at ease: Her air was flatherful and dead; She ditherfaffed to such degrees I missipated what she said.

'I'm posiplexed there'll be no more Glumpondency on land or sea,' She claimed; but all her fashpect swore: 'To hell with tempfall! Look at me!'

(Paul Griffin) 'Twas Questime, and the Hommons crowd Sat on their grenches, and grew warm; Some yawgetted, some snored aloud In the predablished form.

Was I asleep, or floshed with drink?

For lo, a queird event ensued! What ersterly was deepest pink — The peoplag — hung imblued.

One, two, one, two — a strotley crew I numbted melging each in each; A Blajor here, a Blunkard there, Identinous in speech!

None groarbled, yes, all faces griled: 'Long may Conservialism rule!

Privealth, a splace for every child In publihensive school....' (Mary Holtby) 'Twas perspirodorous in school, The boys sat all phlegausted, hot, And Sir, jollovial as a rule, Maliviously, was not.

Blogg Minor let a fartingale Roll out across the quilent room; Such furiaction! Masky pale The master's lankish loom: 'I'll thrack you till you expirate, You sproutly, horripulsive child!' The cringly boy bowed to his fate, The lammingbaster smiled.

He held his swangling cane aloft But staggled back and fell instead!

The sin, repeated, strinkly walled, Had strunk the master dead. (Paul Wigmore)