COMPETITION

Chinese whispers

Jaspistos

IN COMPETITION NO. 2155 you were invited to tell a story in which the outcome depends on one 'Chinese whisper' or a series of them.

The classic exemplar of this type of mis- understanding is the military message, `Send reinforcements, we are going to advance', which was received as 'Send three and fourpence, we are going to a dance.' (One of you hopefully reheated this and served it up as an entry.) At my school one 'whisper' was legendary. A boy was reputed to have approached a rather deaf master and remarked, 'Tickle your arse with a feather, sir?' The indignation that followed was soothed by his second trans- mission: 'Particularly nasty weather, sir?' This was a difficult comp which attracted only a small field. Only four entries reached prizewinning standard, and they earn £30 apiece. The bonus bottle of the Macallan Single Malt Highland Scotch whisky goes to Rosemary Fisher for her successful surreal series.

Do not despair, those of you who have recently not yet received your prize bottles. The glitch has been identified and, I am assured, being righted at once. Please have patience.

`Instead of getting ready for her coffee morning, she was still creeping around in her slippers,' Lady Christabel's daily, Dilys, confided to her employer's gossipy neighbour, Mrs Montfort.

`She was sweeping the ground with fur kip- pers,' Mrs Montfort told her own daily, Brenda.

`She was jeeping eastbound wearing flippers,' Brenda said to her husband, Alf.

`She was leaping on fairground Big Dippers,' said Alf to his workmate, Steve.

`She was peeping at glaring daytrippers,' Steve told Jim in the pub at lunchtime.

`She was cheeping at seafaring skippers,' Jim mentioned to his wife that evening.

`She was weeping and tearing at zippers,' whispered Brenda to Mrs Montfort when she went in to work the following morning.

Mrs Montfort rushed out to apprehend Dilys as she approached Lady Christabel's driveway.

`She was sleeping with two daring strippers!' she hissed.

`Whatever next!' exclaimed Dilys. 'I shall hand in my notice at once.'

(Rosemary Fisher) During a cocktail party given by my loodie' friend Chris Barber, a scandalous rumour about our host started making the rounds. 'Chris stoops to eating in diner?' was the question that leapt excitedly from the lips of those who heard it. Fortunately Chris was too preoccupied to catch this evil interpretation of his coffee-length refuge from a shower of rain in New York, and had he overheard its successor, 'Chris snoops on local refiner', he would surely have assumed that his ears had deceived him.

The next corruption to titillate the uncritical appetite of the audience, 'Chris scoops the mar- ket in china', had, by the time it reached the far end of the room, evolved into a statement alarm- ing enough to have all the newspapermen among us excitedly calling down our mobiles, 'Swiss troops have marched into China.'

(David Barton)

BBC director-general Greg Dyke today blamed the tradition of conducting internal communica- tions through a system of 'Chinese whispers' for the chaotic autumn schedules. The problems came to light during Tom Jones's unexpected roasting of our national potteries last Saturday. This was followed by a new sitcom, The Viceroy of Dibley, the comprehensibility of which was marred by the fact that it had been performed in French rather than by Dawn French. Mr Dyke conceded that Tom Paulin's new Pan A Drama slot was not a fitting replacement for BBC1's flagship current affairs show and tendered his resignation when the corporation's governors complained about being filmed eating for a new series of Dining with Walkasaurs. It is a decision he may come to regret, as ITV shamefacedly admits a similar blunder in commissioning Inspect a Horse — a two-hour veterinary docu- soap — as centrepiece to its own new season,

(Adrian Fry) Beeep. Darling, it's me. Drinks in Antoine's gar- den tonight. Please bring my frilly coat and that pretty fleece you picked up in Norwich. Ciao. Beeep. Russ? That was utterly humiliating. Why did you borrow a billy goat? And thanks for explaining that that was the flitty piece you saun- tered in with. It wasn't hard to tell. Didn't she own a dress? We'll discuss it at Daddy's tonight. For God's sake call him 'sir', notice he looks well and say you're a corporate financier or some- thing.

Beeep. Were you drunk? You tell Daddy that he's got cirrhosis and looks like hell and announce, with a leer, that you're a co-operative fan dancer. He's still hyperventilating. Bring a dish at Stephanie's tonight. Last chance for you. That tart Stephanie wants you to do the silly quotes she's heard about. What does she mean? Bring the duck-filled patties, Russ, and don't screw up.

(Nick Syrett)