Competition

No. 1068: Better off

Set by W. May Byron: 'Leave to Robert Browing/Beggars, fleas and vines:/Leave t.c)" squeamish Ruskin/Popish Apenniniep1 rty stones of Venice/And his gas-latTWAs seven;/We've the stones of Snowdon/Any the lamps of heaven' wrote Charles Kingsley. Competitors are asked for up to 161inesc of verse denigrating two poets or authors °` their choice and ending up with some sinn,g comparisons in similar vein to KingsleY Entries to 'Competition No. 1068' bY 2 June.

No. 1065: The winners

Charles Seaton reports: A wife, turning Out the pockets of her husband's jacket before a tin soldier, some ant's eggs, a jew'sha,(P'„1 taking it to the cleaners, discovers a lipstick , packet of bubble gum and a small bottie:a 'Night in Paris', or a husband, 1°°14;rinve through his wife's bag to find the evellq paper, comes across a picture of Men Wre,S. ing, a betting slip, and packet of snurt, mouth organ, some after-shave and ,ae agony column cutting about an attraetivs male seeking female company. ComPetitle were asked for an explanation from t husband or wife under suspicion. „;‘,0 Occasionally when opening comPet",—he entries, and not immediately recalling `his subject set, I think 'What on earth was one about?' (A reaction, I may saY, 3.'""0 evoked by readers who send us comPetitientries intended for the Ns.) This was one of those weeks. I he °paw of Pat Blackford's entry will make my P°"" darling, but that's Deborah Wiffins wh°1.„Itatis clear: o h at school with, but she had this bother hormones, and now she calls herself 'Strallgi'd instead of us calling her 'Butch'. She — sil„°°,..ted say he now? — was in Ladbroke's when I co"-Ine my election winnings and insisted on giviiii,g,,stly some of her awful snuff, as well as that gi". ing shaving stuff for you, but I didn't dare, krgivive the effect the last lot had on your secretarY.,(101 cutting's got a real Guardian classic howler' I off. for one of the papers that publishes such sinter See? `... or would consider genuine Erlc°1100th Grope'. What? Well, beauty therapists 50 in

organ playing makes mouths more kissable, so knowing you. . . Mmmmmm. Well? Has it worked?

— or for that matter so will John Digby's: 'Confiscations,' she explained. 'From fourteen-year-olds in a girls' school? After-shave? Why carry them around with you, anyway?

, 'Where I teach, the pen's lost out to the Jemmy.'

'I have to believe you. My credulity could use a little sworn explanation, though.' The wife erected the palm of her hand. 'The bikinied colossi grappling came from a midget called Big Lil, fixated on giant males when she should be learning Rossetti. The betting slip, conned instead of Palgrave, from a girl whose boYfriend had 50p on Arsenal for her. Snuff from a girl who thought it'd trip her like fags and Powdered hash combined. Mouth organ from a Latcy Adler fan. After-shave from a girl trying, under her desk, to soothe the rash she'd started, shaving her legs in the school lay. The cutting? Well, that was what Gloria, not all that long in Puberty, had just answered .. . '

The most ingenious and well-knit explanation (I thought) came from Paul Griffin's scientist (five pounds) with Mrs M. Cornford's militarian not far behind (four Pounds, as also John Digby, with three Pounds each for the other entries printed). The wives, whose case was usually put by members of their own sex, found less difficulty in talking themselves out of trouble than the husbands, though the men for once get the last word: Pascoe Polglaze, speaking °Ile would imagine from experience, ended, 'Incidentally, my lotus bud, what happened to the fiver I also left in that pocket?'

'Oh, those. Those are for the mouse experiments. I've been helping Lucy in the lab with research on the five senses: how powerful are they? We've discovered you can train mice to respond to a Musical note on the jew's harp, or a strong smell, hke that scent. A mouse will even respond to a particular feeling under its paws, for example bubble gum, which makes a yielding surface. All die tests are based on food in containers at the eII of tunnels. Some contain feeding pellets, "Mrs unwelcome food, generally doctored ants' eggs. Visual signs are the main problem. We've

tried using small human figures (toy soldiers, _ae tu a ny

) to mark routes, but the mice disregard ) to mark routes, but the mice disregard Ineln. Now we're marking routes and containers with blobs of different shades of lipstick. Mice are lour blind, but we think they can distinguish tones. He's a very ingenious chap, Doctor Lucy.'

(Paul Griffin)

Well, my dear, old Blaggs and I were attending 1,%le Miniature Mock Aldershot Tattoo last .;-`.Traday. Came on. to rain like billy-o and our ,1-lie Guards lost their scarlet in no time, so we °ought a lipstick to touch them up. Half the il.rtillery had dropped their cannon balls through a. hole in their plastic bag, so we used ants' eggs M.stead and stuck them on where we wanted them tvvIth bubble gum. The jew's harp made a lovely arget and twanged like mad. The perfume? Well, my dear, by that time the rd?tS' eggs had gone off and the bubble gum was a ott P°n8Y, so we simply soaked them with scent. (Mrs M. Corn ford) ewhat's that, dear? In my pockets? Oh, yes, ants' No, dear, I'm not planning to breed ants. !fly week to feed the fish at school. Tin wildier? Confiscated. My dear, you've no idea of

the junk we poor ushers accumulate. That bubble gum was Pocklington minor — such a grubby urchin. Oh, help! That's John's jew's harp; He'll need it for the third-year concert tomorrow. What do you say, dear? Co-ed? No, of course not. It's a boys' school. Then why the — oh, yes, the lipstick. Well, you just wouldn't believe, my love, how precocious kids are these days. Mmm, yes. Rather a distasteful episode . . Need I say more. And what? 'Night in Paris'? No, no, my darling. (Put that rolling pin down.) I always keep a bottle handy to remind me of you. (G.H. Harris) Oh! Darling, you've discovered my little secret. I'm writing a book, you see, about this spy who plays coded messages on a mouth organ, behind the Russian Embassy. But in order to fox MI5, he poses as an ordinary very boring Englishman (the complete opposite to you, my sweet). He leaves trails around his shabby bed-sit — of trashy wrestling magazines, betting slips, packets of snuff and bottles of putrid 'after-shave'. He receives his spying instructions, cleverly disguised, in the agony column of his local newspaper.

But then the net draws in.

No, darling, I shan't tell you how it finishes — and Yes! it is absolutely essential to carry around these clues, cuttings and false alibis. It means I can really identify with my leading character and write with deeper clarity and understanding — You must admit, the perfect ingredients for a

best-seller. (Alma Hill)