COMPETITION

What the Doc ordered

Jaspistos

IN COMPETITION NO. 2027 you were invited to incorporate at least six of the week's crossword clues into a plausible piece of prose.

John Sweetman, a regular, tells me that he suggested this form of comp in the pre- Jaspistos era and managed to carry off a prize. At first glance it looks almost impos- sible, but such was your ingenuity that all but three of the clues somehow got used: of the wallflower clues who weren't asked to dance, the least appealing was surely `Vetch in low island for coarse cloth'.

Congratulations all round. In selecting the winners I winked at one or two tiny inexactitudes, such as the omission of the question mark after 'Casserole, or tart?', for the sake of entertainment. The prize- winners, printed below, thoroughly deserve their £25 apiece, and the bonus bottle of The Macallan The Malt Scotch whisky goes to John Chilver, who scored without putting a toe over the touchline.

Dear Pater, You will be pleased to hear that the marquee firm agree to hire charge for meeting at same point-to-point next weekend despite dam- age to canvas by exploding bottles of Bollinger. Financial position continues desperate. Taxman has just written to say that amount owing from annual return builds up due to interest for non- payment. Cannot afford proper food. Forced to consume smuggled fruit and cereal during exam to keep going. No wonder confused linguistic position of Latin quotation and Middle English note written in Early Sanskrit, so failed Prelims. Tutor says staying-power required for a 'two-step' approach to resitting exam. First step is remain- ing sober. Forget what second step is. Please ignore letter from Senior Tutor complaining that I have been 31 days absent. An illusion! Un- known to sleeping night porter, 1 had returned during a party. Bye-bye! (John Chilver)

From the stomach of Thomas Allen a gnawing sensation announced itself. It was hunger. Until this was assuaged, Thomas knew, his article

Antelope or tailless wader: a conservation dilem- ma' would lack all élan. He wandered into the gloomy street, where a vehicle sent out black flu- ids in a risible attempt at improvement, on to the rundown café, and took his seat. A neighbour's paper revealed the headline 'Novelist swapped old money for new for bird'. So Julius Pestle had had to sell his Roman coins, had he, to buy that illegal goshawk chick? Served the bugger right. He considered his meal. What tasty treat might give the emotional staying-power required for a 'two-step' progress — from neglected private scholar, through a professorship, to the Nobel Prize? 'What's on today?' he asked. 'Corned beef casserole, or tart?' It's fish paste,' the wait- ress replied cheerlessly. Thomas sighed. Would

this life never end? (Chris Tingley)

The staying-power required for a 'two-step' final examination is phenomenal. I was utterly exhausted. Milton and I would revise together late into the night, drinking endless cups of cof- fee and eating nothing except fruit and cereal during exam weeks. It was not until it was all over that reaction set in and I collapsed. We had decided to spend my latest cash windfall on din- ing out. (You know how the amount owing from annual return builds up if you leave it alone.) I booked a table at Milton's lady friend's favourite restaurant and remember ordering roast par- tridge, but it might have been antelope or tailless wader for all I ever knew. After blacking out, I woke up to hear a kind nurse saying, 'You live at hospital a little while.' After that I did nothing but sleep, waking only when roused for food. 'Cas- serole, or tart?' will ring in my ears for ever.

(Annie Anderson)

'Casserole, or tart?' queried Sherlock Holmes. We were discussing the Milton-Allen tragedy, a talking-point in London society in the early autumn of '95. I scanned the paper, which reported Allen's autopsy.

'Neither,' I responded. 'A match stick.'

`From the stomach of Thomas Allen?' Holmes appeared surprised. 'How could a fine meal served for Milton's lady have led to a match in the stomach of the dead man? What of Tayler?'

'Tayler developed property, as you know, Holmes. He was discussing a dubious deal with Allen during the dinner.' 'He's the one, I'll be bound,' volunteered Holmes. 'He told Allen that an amount owing from annual return builds up to a sizeable sum. Allen promised investment and signed to that effect. Then Tayler inserted a match into the food, thinking to send him to live at hospital a lit- tle while he escaped. But now he faces a murder

charge!' (Nicholas Rathbone)

Mud everywhere. Rats and stench. By the ammo dump a vehicle sent out black fluids. That was Flanders. Light three cigarettes from one match stick and you were dead. You couldn't wait for relief, or a flesh wound: live at hospital a little while, drink plonk and eat casserole, or tart, at the estaminet. Maybe flirt with a mademoiselle or two while the band played, though few conva- lescent Tommies had the staying-power required for a `two-step'. But sooner or later you were back in the line. When you weren't fighting they'd ask you sarcastically to please mend the pier or lay buckboard. Nothing ever changed. I was out of the line for a month once, and thought I might see progress, returning after 31 days absent. An illusion! (Basil Ransome-Davies)