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PURE HIGHLAND MALT

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COMPETITION

PURE HIGHLAND MALT

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Spry Struldbrugs

J aspistos

In Competition No. 1730 you were in- vited to imagine a young journalist's inter- view with a vigorous 150-year-old in the year 2100.

Of course, Swift's Struldbrugs, though immortal, did lose their faculties. The creatures Gulliver interviewed in the king- dom of Luggnagg would have been dozing in rocking-chairs, waving ear-trumpets, mumbling cantankerously. With our cen- tenarians it was a different scene: 'Good morning, Mr Wilson — or may I call you Andrew? Please sit down, you look a bit done in after your taxi ride. You won't mind, will you, if I do a few press-ups while we talk . . .?'

The prizewinners, printed below, earn £20 each, and the bonus bottle of Aberlour Single Malt whisky goes to Glen Lillebrew.

Interviewer: Now then, Mr Bellenger, you've led an exhausting life. Were there highlights?

B: Indeed! But none beats the moment when centenarians banded together to elect Tony Blair prime minister.

I: After over seventy years in Opposition, that must have surprised him almost as much as you! B: It did. He had to renounce his title, Duke of Durham, and double-check party policy on pensions!

I: A bit rusty, I'll bet.

B: Agreed. But then Teresa Gorman had been premier for three decades, and later generations had given socialism a low profile. Yet what energy! He renationalised everything pretty much at one go — beaches, bicycling, motor- ways, the police, social work, children, air there was no limit to his vision.

I: That was a half-century ago. Do frustrations remain?

B: Yes: those hot-air hand-driers. After over a century, they still leave your palms wet.

(Glen Lillebrew)

Q: You think live long good thing?

A: Yah. Has to be. In old time, life zilch. Born-astride-grave thing, right? Now go on and on. Gym, videos, sex, drugs. Pass time. Heal- thy, happy.

Q: Fulfilled?

A: Fulfilled? What fulfilled?

Q: Sorry. Old-time talk. Been reading history tale. A: Reading? What that? History? What that? See that muscle? Big. Big penis, too. You see Obliterator 12? Mega stuff. Kill, rape, tear up whole bloody world. Got Al plastic surgeon, fix me up video hero lookalike.

Q: You do sport?

A: Yah. See a lot. Signal from outer space come in living-room.

Q: No. You do sport?

A: Do? Oh. Like actual do. Sure. Fitness centre — wham, bam, monitor vital signs.

Q: OK. Sure thing. You got message for young? A: Yah. Be like me. Brain no good. Fuck brain. Use body, eyes. Watch a lot of stuff. Be obliterator-type person. Carry plastic. Good life, no shit. Have a nice day.

(Basil Ransome-Davies) 'What is the state of my libido on the eve of my 150th birthday? There's not much of the original me remaining to answer that question. Allow me to enlighten you, young man. From the bottom up, I'm on my second pair of patellas; the sawbones have brought a whole new meaning to the term "kneecapping". Shortly, I'm acquiring a fresh hip; that'll complete a shout of three cheers, if you apprehend my drift.

'My doctors — I've outlived seven of 'em always give me heart. Indeed, to date, they've given me four. Even my by-passes have been by-passed! Higher up, my headpiece has under- gone "cribbage board" surgery; thereby every readily replaceable audiological, ophthalmolo- gical and dental implant advance since the

Twenty-twenties has docking facilities.'

'That's highly instructive, sir, but —' 'Ah, yes, my libido. Now there I'm somewhat at a disadvantage. Y'see, I've always entertained a passion for the older woman.'

(Chas. F. Garvey)

Journalist: The obvious question first, Dr Strange. Isn't it — with the greatest respect going slightly over the top to have a flight of fixed hurdles leading to your front door? Dr Strange: Nonsense. Healthy discipline. And talking of going over the top, try and bounce on to your shoulder next time.

J: Yes, I'm sorry, I - Dr S: Blood everywhere.

I: Quite. I do apologise. Now, you seem remarkably fit even for 150. What's your secret? Dr S: Work-outs mainly. See that gadget with the robot horses on? Pulls you in four directions. Or tries to. Makes a nice toy for the quads too.

J: And diet?

Dr S: Black pudding, brandy and raw fruit. Have half an orange pippin.

Thanks. Er — do you always slice apples like that?

Dr S: Mostly. It's your fault it's cut crooked. You were shaking so much it nearly dropped off

your head. (Chris Tingley)

Q: Well, sir, you're one of the few to reach 150. What do you think of it? A: It's all right, I suppose.

Q: Do you remember the launching of the Grim Reaper?

A: Of course. Protests — everyone protested, but it went up all the same.

Q: And what do you think now?

A: Oh, it had to be. You couldn't move for people before it went up — no room, no movement, everything gummed up.

Q: But you've been lucky?

A: Well, my number hasn't come up. Funny, you know, my father used to say 'His number's up' and he'd no idea of that thing up in space. Q: And you haven't worried?

A: You should know — your number's up there too. No, I think people accept it. They used to think that if they were good they ought to live longer. You can accept pure chance.

Q: What would your father have thought?

A: Well, he was Greek. They've always accepted thunderbolts.

(D. Shepherd)