Spectator Competition: Tubular belles 

Lucy Vickery
 GETTY IMAGES
issue 24 May 2025

Competition 3400 invited you to write poems to mark YouTube’s 20th birthday. This challenge drew a large, accomplished entry which was both amusing and informative. Alex Steelsmith’s double dactylic submission was a strong contender for a place in the winning line-up, as were Bill Greenwell, Mike Morrison, Frank McDonald, David Silverman, Elizabeth Kay and Janine Beacham. But the John Lewis vouchers are awarded to those poems printed below.

I am the very model of a modern-day YouTuberist,

The cornucopia of its gifts creates for me a catalyst,

Since first I saw ‘Me at the Zoo’ my mood’s been irrepressible

And now in all my waking hours I beam up what’s accessible:

The medieval manuscripts and cheerful facts historical,

Like who beheaded what’s-his-name, for YouTube is my oracle.

And Baby Shark Dance floats my boat, though hardly educational,

While Fenton! Fenton chasing deer will always be sensational.

The music choice is limitless, I fix myself a rendez-vous

With Handel oratorios and then Ed Sheeran’s ‘Shape of You’.

If anything is on the blink and proving unreliable

A video will show me how to make the damn thing viable.

For twenty years it’s been my guide, I’ve ‘liked’ and ‘shared’ religiously

And through my online searching I have watched it grow prodigiously.

I say without a doubt, and my opinion is unprejudiced,

YouTube’s the very model for a modern-day YouTuberist.

Sylvia Fairley

Between the keyboard and the screen abides

An intricate force field that seeks and hides.

Transcendence is a single click away.

A magic world supplants the everyday.

You want a cat? A million cats await.

The networks teem with Agape and hate,

The pious and profane, nasty and nice,

Clickbait galore. Each item has a price.

This Babel of phenomena bespeaks

The double-decade dream of three young geeks

Evolved into a cyber-multiverse.

So versatile – a blessing and a curse,

A potent Janus of the social media

Inducing both arousal and acedia,

Gravid with narratives that cast a spell

For hours, but truth or fiction – who can tell?.

Basil Ransome-Davies

Wasn’t it great

when me and young Kate

hairbrush in hand

sang to a band

on YouTube’s world stage.

     And wasn’t life grand

     at twelve years of age?

Now, arm down the drain,

will YouTube explain

what I must do

to shift the remains

of an old Irish stew

     plus life on the wane

     at just thirty-two?

Martin Parker

I spent an hour on YouTube, golly, such delights!

Flanders, Swann and Stratford Johns, the Ali-Frazier fights,

Basils Brush and Fawlty, Fergie getting hitched,

I turned it off contented, and nostalgically enriched

I spent a day on YouTube, I was looking for El Cid,

But do you remember Crossroads? I’d forgotten that I did!

I stumbled into Gormenghast, and when I found the drawbridge,

It took me to a Roman ruin, somewhere outside Corbridge

I spent a week on YouTube, I began with Planet Earth,

Then lost some days inside a maze of mammals giving birth,

All those kittens, I was smitten! Yet something in me shivered:

I stayed in bed all day, and lived on takeaways – delivered

I spent a month on YouTube – Matt Hancock’s favourite bars!

And a woman from Los Angeles who says she comes from Mars,

A thousand ways with mayonnaise, a horse-box for a home…

And then a good friend struck me with a vast, improving tome

Nick Syrett

Time was, the screen was still and black,

The world unfilmed, unfiltered, free.

Now every moment, front or back,

Demands its clip, its commentary.

A chorus sings of daily bread

In pixels served on handheld shrines;

The living speak, the long since dead

Return in ads and ‘Top Ten’ lines.

No priest, no king, no teacher’s voice

Escapes the algorithm’s maze –

It crowns the loud, the half-informed,

And keeps the meek in comment bays.

Yet let us not be wholly grim –

A cat still jumps, a light still glows;

The human need to watch and share

Remains the truest show it shows.

Jonathan White

No. 3403: First thoughts

You are invited to provide an extract of up to 150 words or 16 lines from a prequel to a well-known work of prose or poetry (e.g. The Middle-Aged Man and the Sea, Brighton Sediment…). Please email entries to competition@spectator.co.uk by midday on 4 June.

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