No. 1299: The winners

Jaspistos reports: Competitors were asked for a surprising account, by a very minor historical character involved for a short space of time with a celebrated person in a well-known incident. This rather tired idea, which elicited a rather tired post-Christmas response from most of you, I owe to a lively book of short stories by various hands called Imaginary Biographies, published in 1936. One gives an entertaining description by Captain Jenkins of the war-precipitating loss of his ear. Another identifies 'the person from Porlock' as Faunder, the police spy the Government charged with the odd job of vetting Coleridge: `Mr C. talked of Satan 11

minutes by the watch, and of such bewilder- ing subjects as thimbles, the price of muslin, biscuit-worms, maniacs in connec- tion with hats, and the best methods of ex- terminating mice.'

I'm sorry to start the New Year meanly, but I'm only awarding four prizes of £10 to each of the winners. The two bonus bottles of Château Gruaud-Larose 1976, the gift of Bibendum, 113 Regent's Park Rd, Prim- rose Hill, London NW1 (01 586 9761), are heading for Stanley Shaw, whose piece is based on a passage in Portrait of a Marriage by Nigel Nicolson in which Vita is entering Mrs Keppel's house 'on my way to the station. There was a dreary slut scrubbing the doorstep, and I stepped in over the soapy pail, and saw Violet in the morning room. Then I went...'

Just a Smack at Vita I was on me knees, scrubbing the steps at Mrs Keppel's which I shouldn't 've bin, what with me TB — (the doctor give me eighteen months) when this tall, dark woman races up the steps and knocks me pail over. 'Look where you're going, missis!' I says. She turns on me. 'You dreary slut — I've more to think about. I've to decide if I'm still in love with Rosamund, or should I run away with Violet before she marries Denys — or should I agree to, and then change my mind — and can I leave Harold, Nigel and Ben, and does Harold know about Julian and does Violet know about Rosamund and now that Mother has left Dada because Dada loves Mrs Rubens Oh God!' She raced off.

She wants to see a doctor, I thought. (Yes, eighteen months he give me. Well, other people 've got troubles too.) (Stanley Shaw) Flora Macdonald's Maid 'Quick, Betty,' says my mistress, 'out of your clothes, the redcoats are nearly upon us!'

What was Ito think?

Upon this moment, enters the bonny Prince, stripped to his stays. 'Madam, I am a virtuous girl!' cry I.

'You silly wench,' says the Prince in some agitation, "tit your clothes I desire — not thee.'

So, before I can say 'Lordamercy' there am I, near naked, and the Prince swaddled and en- cumbered and — dare I say it? — ridiculous in my clothes. There go he and my mistress, stumbl- ing towards the nearest rowing boat. And do they care what happens to a defenceless girl with the redcoats fast approaching? Away they row and I can see how he strains on the buttons and I am left, the wrong side of the water. Bonny he may be, though I take leave to question that. Gallant he most certainly is not.

(Frances Rhodes) Funny chap 1 met yesterday, look you. Walking I was, in Hyde Park, when I spotted Jones the Member up for the Reform Bill, see? So up I go, remembering that his father was Archdruid when my Uncle Dai won for elocution at the Eisted- fodd, and wishing to encourage him about the rotten boroughs, isn't it? And I was just saying, 'Mr Jones, I believe...' when this old bugger looks at me quite grumpy and says, 'Sir, if you'll believe that you'll believe anything' and marches off, I tell you, bach, as if he thought he was the bloody Prime Minister going to order the King about. Quite put out I was, boyo!

(P. M. G. Shiel) Ulyanov? Sure, I remember him. A true gentleman. When I asked for his ticket he invited me to share a bottle of schnapps. Not like those oh-so-superior German officers, you know what I mean? No, Herr Ulyanov was no grocer's grandson. And such a sense of humour. While we were drinking together I said to him, 'What will you do when you get back to Petrograd?'

'Why, Franz,' he said, 'you tell me. What should I do?'

Me, a humble Swiss Railways official. I tell you, I was tongue-tied. Then he said — by this time, you understand, we were halfway down the bottle — 'You know, I was going to say 'Support the Provisional Government', things like that. But that's a bit boring, isn't it?'

He winked at me. Then he said, 'Tell me, Franz, what do ordinary people want, in your experience?'

`Oh,' I said, 'You know — a little garden, enough to eat, and to be left alone.'

Herr Ulyanov burst out laughing. 'That's it!' he cried. 'Land, bread, and peace. By God, that will shake them up. Here, have another drink.'

I tell you, we never stopped laughing all the way to the Finland Station.

(Basil Ransome-Davies)