No. 1240: The winners

Jaspistos reports: Competitors were asked to write an epitaph on someone who had a peculiarly modern sort of occupation.

There was a healthy number of entries, including one by telex from distant Somerset. Although several of you presented epitaphs in prose, none of them achieved the lapidary wit of the best verse- writers, so this week the poets take all: every one of them printed below gets five pounds, and Ted Parrott can count himself damned lucky in that the occupation of golf professional is ancient (and honourable) rather than 'peculiarly modern'. Pedro Domecq's bonus prize of a bottle of Carlos III Selected Brandy is awarded to Joyce Johnson.

Samaritan Here lies a man who often sat And listened on the phone To those with lives so awful that At last he took his own. (Joyce Johnson)

`Could you forge us a couple of commer- cials, Mr Keating?'

Marriage Counsellor

For better or for worse he's tied To death, and sees the other side. (George Moor)

Disc Jockey

Unfailingly benign and brisk, No more may he beguile us, Rolled round on earth's rotating diSc Till Doomsday raise the stylus. (Moyra Blyth)

Chat Show Compere

This show's the big one, this one's really hot; The once-a-lifetime break, the tops, the most; There's nothing off the record, peak-time slot — A gloves-off session with the heavenly host! (David Crane) Here lies a Race Relations bod, Who doubtless now is warning God That He commits a crime to keep Distinguishing the goats from sheep. (Jane Webb) When knighted Day reminded Nott Of 'here today and gone tomorrow', Of his own end he minded not.

Now Day ,from night no time may borrow. (D. P. M. Michael) After a lifetime packaging vacations (To Mykonos, Minorca and Lucerne),

John Smith has now confirmed his reservations

To the bourne from which no traveller may return. (G. Waldman) Poor Maud who held the kerb in thrall Is now, alas, a goner: The Greatest Warden of them all Has slapped his ticket on her.

(Martin Fagg)

To Willie Hampton, man of spunk, A farewell toast will now be drunk.

He gave advice to married and single, On how their genitals should mingle, Never suffering inhibitions, 'Recommending all positions.

Sexual therapists come, we know, But this one, sadly, had to go. (Sheelagh Pantnn) Here lies a man who read the evening news, A master of the neutral monologue; But God at last blanked out his autocues And called him up to read the Epilogue. ,

(Basil Ransome-Davtes/

Golfer, shed a casual tear: Your Club Professional lies here.

He taught you grip, and swing, and pivot, So tread not on this six-foot divot.

His final round, alas, is done: At least he made this hole in one. (Ted Parrott) Here lies cheerful Mike Moran, Television weatherman.

Bravely he smiled through high and low, Rain and sunshine, mist and snow, Sometimes wrong but never in doubt Till the day he faded out, Ended up as he began, Smiling ... That's it. Good night, Moran. (Barney BlackleY, (Barney BlackleY, )