Lucy Vickery

For Competition 3463 you were invited to submit an acrostic poem in the style of a well-known poet, the first letters of each line spelling out the poet’s name. Initials were allowed but I disqualified diminutives such as Will and Bill for Wordsworth and McGonagall. In a medium-sized, accomplished entry, Elizabeth Kay, Richard Warren, Bob Newman, J.R. Johnson and Mike Gower stood out. The £25 John Lewis vouchers go to those entries printed below, led by Basil Ransome-Davies’s twist on Empson’s ‘Just a Smack at Auden’. Shall we cop a plea, guys, eager for a part, Idle but not free, guys, waiting for a start,   Riding for a spree, guys, on a rubbish cart? We can’t wait and see, guys,waiting for a start. I go with the mob, guys, perish books and art.

For Competition 3461 you were asked to submit toe-curling analogies.This invitation produced a stream of entries that were glorious in their banal, laboured, overwrought and tasteless awfulness. Bad writing, it turns out, has some high-brow admirers: the notoriously dreadful poet and novelist Amanda McKittrick Ross’s fans included Aldous Huxley, C.S Lewis and Siegfried Sassoon, while Mark Twain pronounced her novel Irene Iddesleigh ‘one of the greatest unintentionally humorous novels of all time’.  The offerings below earn their authors a £5 John Lewis voucher per analogy printed. The noise he made, if expressed in writing, could be taken for the surname of a mildly dyslexic Polish plumber.

For Competition 3460 you were invited to write a sonnet beginning ‘Shall I compare thee to a [trisyllable of your choice]’. This challenge, which called for a twist on Sonnet 18, produced objects of comparison that ranged far and wide from bacon rolls to a simile. It was a popular competition, eliciting stellar performances all round; I was sorry not to have space for Helene Parry, David Silverman and Paul Freeman. The seven best are printed below and earn their authors a £25 John Lewis voucher apiece. Shall I compare thee to a tennis ball? I’m moved betimes to give thee quite a whack and yet it seems thou dost not care at all, like summer’s lease thou keep’st on bouncing back.

For Competition 3457 you were invited to submit a weather forecast in verse. There were nods to Shakespeare, Eliot, Hardy and MacNeice in a large, varied and accomplished entry. An honourable mention goes to John O’Byrne’s haiku: Mother Nature cries Stopping play at Wimbledon: Not any one’s fault. The entries printed below net their authors a £25 John Lewis voucher. It’s no go the beach today, it’s no go the picnic: There’s heavy rain from Kent to Wales and thunder storms in Whitwick. You’ll need cagoules in Chichester and wellingtons in Dover And Driza-Bones in Liverpool till this tornado’s over. It’s no go the summer fete, it’s no go the barbie, All you’ll get is the tea-tent drowned and a flood alert for Derby.

For Competition 3454 you were invited to encapsulate a well-known poem in four lines. I found this entertaining parlour game in E.O. Parrott’s splendid How to be Well Versed in Poetry, which includes this cracker from Ron Rubin, one-time veteran of these pages: Regarding Slough, Berks., This poet remarks: ‘This town makes me vomit – I wish they would bomb it!’ Paul Freeman earns an honourable mention for distilling ‘Daffodils’ into four words. Richard Warren, Mark Wallace, Nicholas Whitehead, Simon Godziek and Liz Moore also stood out. The winners earn a £10 John Lewis voucher per encapsulation printed. Don’t be coy, babe, Life must fade; Marvell’s tip For getting laid.

For Competition 3451 you were invited to supply an acrostic poem praising or dispraising a public figure in which the word/s spelled out by the first letter of each line directly contradicts what the poem is saying.Messages that lurked, in a smallish but accomplished entry, included ‘Ursine delinquent’, ‘Tory turncoat’ and ‘Tit whisperer’. I’ll leave you to guess who they are skewering. Honourable mentions go to Shirley Curran, Richard Spencer and Sylvia Fairley. The £25 John Lewis vouchers are awarded to the submissions printed below. David Attenborough, here’s to you! A hundred years of service to the Earth: Vast plains and frozen wastes and oceans blue Echo their grateful praise for all they’re worth! A Nation’s Treasure? One hundred per cent!

For Competition 3450 you were invited to submit a short story written in words of one syllable. This challenge produced a pleasingly diverse entry, with echoes of Bulgakov, Orwell and Hemingway. It was especially tricky to whittle down a larger-than-usual post-bag to just six winners and I very much regretted not having room for Andy Simpson, Andy Myers, Peter Mullen and Mark Boullé. Other strong performers included W.J. Webster, Simon Godziek, Martin Brown, Samuel Finniear, John O’Byrne and Verity Kalcev. The £25 John Lewis vouchers go to the submissions printed below. ‘I hear,’ said Jim to his wife, Jean, ‘Bob Lime is dead.’ A bit deaf, Jean said ‘Who?’ ‘Bob Lime.’ ‘What, him as had a shop at – ?

For Competition 3448 you were invited to supply a joke in verse form.Apologies for an ambiguous brief; I was actually after an existing joke retold in verse form rather than expecting you to invent a new joke, but either approach was permissible. The challenge was a popular one and yielded a large and jolly entry. I appreciated Bob Turvey’s accompanying note – ‘Do you think my work stanza chance? – and David Shields’s Longfellowesque submission. Over to the winners, who each earn a £25 John Lewis voucher. When Faustus found his way to hell,They cheered him to the rafters,And said he might select the siteTo pass his ever-afters:A furnace-full of smouldering souls?A wasteland white as icing?With souls as cold as arctic rolls,Well… neither was enticing.

For Competition 3445 you were invited to provide a sonnet to a previously overlooked body part.In a stellar week – high fives, all round – the £25 John Lewis vouchers are awarded to the authors of those entries printed below and honourable mentions go to Caroline Burke and Mike Greenhough. Much have I dabbled in the realms of gut And many goodly small intestines seen, Worthy of praise in ode or sonnet, but Excepting Baudelaire’s beloved Spleen, And many a heart that aches or breaks or worse, So rarely do we see a fine intestine Nor colon celebrated in blank verse; No humble organ do we see expressed in Rhyme – till now. Behold, the Duodenum! Gastroscopies have nought to show more fair, Ah!

For Competition 3442 you were invited to supply the opening of a memoir that would discourage the reader from reading on. You rose to the challenge of producing writing that was comically appalling with gusto. Sue Pickard’s entry narrowly missed out on a place in the winning line-up. Here she is, writing from the point of view of the Sleeping Beauty: ‘I found freedom in dreams. Let me describe them to you in detail. All one hundred years of them.’ Jeremy Carlisle also impressed: ‘For your illumination I will shine a torch into the cave of my heart.

For Competition 3440 you were invited to supply a diplomatic thank-you letter for an unwanted gift. According to a recent poll, a fifth of people have been given a present they don’t like (Marmite-scented deodorant, anyone?) with many admitting to feigning gratitude if not delight. It helps, of course, if the giver of the gift is not present for the unveiling, but this still leaves the thorny issue of a thank-you letter. Which is where you come in. The entry was a masterclass in tact. Commendations to Harriet Elvin, Alan Millard, Richard Wyndham and Sue Pickard. The £25 John Lewis vouchers go to the winners below. My dear Crispin, Thank you so much for your so apposite present.

For Competition 3439 you were invited to build an undiscovered poem around a phrase lifted from an earlier poet. The £25 John Lewis vouchers go to the authors of those entries printed below. Wee, sleekit, cow’rin, tim’rous? Not at all!For I, William McGonagallDo tell the tale of the fearsome monster of Loch NessWhich many attempt to suppress. And many do scoff and more do mock itBut in the taverns and dwellings of fair DrumnadrochitAmong the proud Highlanders are those who professTo have set their eyes on the elusive creature of Ness. For in the Year of our Lord Five Hundred and Sixty-fiveWhen the blessèd Saint Columba was very much alive,It is told that he sighted the magical beastie of Ness –Though the truth of this legend is anyone’s guess.

For Competition 3436 you were invited to submit a poem whose first line is ‘O my love is like [fill in the gap]’ and continue for up to a further 16 lines. This Valentines challenge was an extremely popular one which drew a mammoth entry. Commendations to Pamela Haddon, Joyce Bateman and Gillian Emerson. The £25 John Lewis vouchers go to the authors of those entries printed below. O my love is like a Wordsworth verseIn ‘Lucy’s-copped-it’ mode –With constitution of a hearseUpon the Grasmere road. His face is furrowed, grey and grim,His smiles are in abatement –To say I rarely fancy himWould be an understatement.

For Competition 3443 you were invited to submit a dear John letter in the style of a well-known writer. The brief stipulated 16 lines but you submitted both verse and prose and I allowed both. I very much enjoyed Sue Pickard’s Bram Stoker: ‘My dear Count, I can barely summon the energy to write this letter as my haemoglobin levels are so low but write it I must…’. And Alan Millard’s Oscar Wilde: ‘The truth is that I have met someone who loves me almost as much as I love myself…’. I was also sorry not to have room for Andrew Simpson’s fruity D.H. Lawrence, Bill Greenwell’s T.S. Eliot, Richard Warren’s Andrew Marvell and George Simmers’s Leopold von Sacher-Masoch. The £25 John Lewis vouchers go to the authors of those entries printed below.

For Competition 3430 you were invited to write a rhyming prophecy for 2026. Joe Houlihan’s closing couplet encapsulates the tenor of the entry: Next year is like this year, but much, much worse: So take a stiff brandy and call for nurse. But while the mood was downbeat, the standard was cheering and the entries below earn their authors £25 John Lewis vouchers. Happy New Year, one and all. When you wake up in bed with a harrowing head and your brain is assaulted by bricks you’re beginning to mourn that you partied ’til dawn as you welcomed in Year ’26. The barometer’s falling, the cold is appalling, the sky is as dark as the devil, the rainfall is thudding and everywhere’s flooding, the rivers have burst past their level.

For Competition 3427 you were invited to write a paean on a place traditionally considered to be ugly. In an accomplished entry, in which many took inspiration from William McGonagall, the Bard of Dundee, honourable mentions go to Ralph Goldswain, Richard Warren and Elizabeth Kay. The winners, led by Bill Greenwell on the Pompidou Centre, are rewarded with £25 John Lewis vouchers.

For Competition 3424 you were invited to write a short story for which ‘Conman’ could be the title, containing a dozen words of four or more letters beginning with con or man. This produced a larger-than-usual entry in which all were fairly evenly matched, making it tricky to whittle it down to the six below who are rewarded with £25 John Lewis vouchers. Consider the lilies… he murmured, contemplating his reflection in Suzanne’s mirror. Like them he looked good, but unlike them he could sow, though his seeds were romance, and as for spinning – that was his metier. From their first date (contact, he called it) she’d been consumed with passion for his charm and confidence, regardless of the consequences. Apps: so easy.

For Competition 3421 you were invited to submit a reply from Slough to offset Betjeman’s rude lines on the subject. The poet Ian McMillan got in there first, springing to Slough’s defence in 2005 with ‘Slough Re-visited’: ‘Come friendly words and splash on Slough!/ Celebrate it, here and now/ Describe it with a gasp, a “wow!”/ Of Sweet Berkshire breath’. But perhaps he needn’t have bothered; a year later, on the centenary of his birth, Betjeman’s daughter Candida Lycett-Green apologised for the 1937 poem, saying her father ‘regretted ever having written it’. Commendations go to Paddy Mullin, Joseph McCann and D.A. Prince. The £25 John Lewis vouchers are awarded to the winners below. He plans to (claiming it’s run-down) Annihilate our thriving town.

For Competition 3418 you were invited to provide a pompous leading article on a trivial subject. The ubiquity of ‘Hi’ replacing ‘Dear’; conjoined teabags; the apostrophe (ban it!); the semi-colon (save it!): all featured in a medium-sized, accomplished entry. The half-dozen below stood out and earn their authors the £25 John Lewis vouchers. Our readers will be aware of our unblemished record in reading the runes. And if there is one certain indicator of the unravelling of the fabric of western civilisation, surely it is the unending decline in quality of clothes pegs. Regardless of the emporium from which they are purchased, both plastic and wooden pegs are so woefully constructed that their falling apart may be taken as societal collapse in microcosm.

For Competition 3415 you were invited to submit a lost poem by a well-known poet which makes us see him or her in a new light. There is space only to commiserate with unlucky losers Elizabeth Kay, Alex Steelsmith, Sophie Hannah, Ralph Goldswain and D.A. Prince. The winners below take the £25 John Lewis vouchers. I am an atheistic chap. I like to trash the psalter, And lay some tins of Spam across each silly harvest altar. On every reredos I carve graffiti with my Stanley. God is dead and anyhow the Devil is more manly. The architecture of a church is frankly rather fussy, But in I go, because the verger’s daughter is a hussy. We start with some communion wine (a boozer is our Tiffany), And after every evensong we have a fresh Epiphany.