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The invitation to step into the shoes of Andrew Marvell’s coy mistress attracted a jumbo entry. Clearly lots of you think it’s high time she had her say. But you weren’t the first to pipe up on her behalf. Marvell’s seductive overtures failed to persuade the Australian (male) poet A.D. Hope. Here’s an extract from
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In Competition No. 2917 you were invited to submit a reply from Andrew Marvell’s coy mistress. Marvell’s mix of cajoling wit and harsher truths failed to persuade the Australian (male) poet A.D. Hope. Here’s an extract from his blistering reply, ‘His Coy Mistress to Mr Marvell’, published in 1978: Had you addressed me in such
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The latest challenge was all about writers selling their souls to the corporate giants. Competitors were asked to recast a well-known scene from literature to reflect the fact that its author has signed a sponsorship deal with a well-known brand. Frank McDonald fancied that Coleridge had taken Highland Spring’s shilling: Water, water everywhere And still
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In Competition No. 2916 you were invited to recast a well-known scene from literature to reflect the fact that its author has signed a sponsorship deal with a well-known brand. The Mad Hatter’s Tea Party provided the perfect platform for Mr Kipling; Sydney Carton’s execution was the ideal shop window for Sabatier and Brooks of
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The call for limericks featuring a well-known artist and a destination of your choice was prompted by one that Robert Conquest wrote about Paul Gauguin: When Gauguin was visiting Fiji He said things are different here, e.g. While Tahitian skin Calls for tan spread on thin You must slosh it on here with a squeegee.
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In Competition No. 2915 you were invited to submit limericks featuring a well-known artist and a destination of your choice. This challenge was spawned by a limerick Robert Conquest wrote about Paul Gauguin: When Gauguin was visiting Fiji He said things are different here, e.g. While Tahitian skin Calls for tan spread on thin You
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The late Sir Keith Joseph once gave a speech in which he said that the government was trying to ‘Bennboozle’ the country. You were asked to submit coinages inspired by today’s politicians, supplying full dictionary definitions and illustrative examples of their use. As is often the case with this sort of competition, many of you
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In Competition No. 2914 — which was inspired by a speech given by the late Sir Keith Joseph in which he said that the government was trying to ‘Bennboozle’ the country — you were asked to submit coinages inspired by today’s politicians, supplying full dictionary definitions and illustrative examples of their use. As is often
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The recent invitation to submit an extract from the school report of a well-known author, living or dead went down well, attracting a large and spirited entry. Teachers often get it wrong, of course. Eight-year-old Charlotte Brontë was described by hers in less than glowing terms: she ‘writes indifferently’ and ‘knows nothing of grammar, geography,
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In Competition No. 2913 you were invited to submit an extract from the school report of a well-known author, living or dead. Teachers often get it wrong, of course. Eight-year-old Charlotte Brontë was described by hers in less than glowing terms: she ‘writes indifferently’ and ‘knows nothing of grammar, geography, history or accomplishments’. In 1943 Beryl
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The request for tributes in verse to a once-popular foodstuff that has fallen out of favour generated a large and lively postbag. Bill Greenwell’s entry (Spangles!) brought to mind childhood pleasures, as did Sid Field’s (Creamola) and Jayne Osborn’s (Angel Delight). But I still shudder at the memory of spam fritters, and Alan Millard’s valiant
From our UK edition
In Competition No. 2912 you were invited to submit a tribute in verse to a once-popular foodstuff that has fallen out of favour. Bill Greenwell’s entry (Spangles!) brought to mind childhood pleasures, as did Sid Field’s (Creamola) and Jayne Osborn’s (Angel Delight). But I still shudder at the memory of spam fritters, and Alan Millard’s
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The latest challenge, to submit a thriller in three text messages, seemed straightforward enough but it turned out to be a tough assignment that stretched veterans and newcomers alike. As in all forms of micro-fiction — the mini-masterpiece attributed to Hemingway, ‘For sale: baby shoes, never worn’, springs to mind — it’s all about the
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In Competition No. 2911 you were invited to submit a thriller in three text messages. This one seemed straightforward enough but it turned out to be a tough assignment that stretched veterans and newcomers alike. As in all forms of micro-fiction — the mini-masterpiece attributed to Hemingway, ‘For sale: baby shoes, never worn’, springs to
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My request for poems by a pet who is cheesed off with its owner generated an entertaining parade of bullied, misunderstood and condescended-to creatures. The contempt in Basil Ransome-Davies’s closing couplet, written from the perspective of a bolshie moggy, speaks for the majority: He wants affection, he can kiss a duck. It’s what my mother
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In Competition No. 2910 you were invited to submit a poem by a pet who is cheesed off with its owner. The contempt in Basil Ransome-Davies’s closing couplet, written from the perspective of a bolshie moggy, was echoed throughout the entry by a hacked-off parade of bullied, misunderstood and condescended-to pets: He wants affection, he
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Michael Gove has suggested that civil servants take inspiration from George Orwell and Evelyn Waugh, Jane Austen and George Eliot, when writing correspondence. The recent invitation to compose a memo generated by either the Department of Education or the Ministry of Justice as it might have been written by a writer you would like to
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In Competition No. 2909 you were invited to follow in the footsteps of Michael Gove, who has urged civil servants to take inspiration from George Orwell and Evelyn Waugh, Jane Austen and George Eliot, and submit a memo generated by either the Department of Education or the Ministry of Justice as it might have been
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The latest challenge was a shameless rip-off of the annual Bulwer-Lytton fiction contest which asks for ‘the opening sentence to the worst of all novels’ (Edward Bulwer-Lytton is often described as ‘the worst writer in history’). What a joy it was to wade through the morass of florid, convoluted prose, over-elaborate metaphors and inconsequential tangents.
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In Competition No. 2908 you were invited to submit a comically appalling opening to an imaginary novel. Thanks are due to the inventor of the annual Bulwer-Lytton fiction contest from whom I have pinched the idea for this challenge (Edward Bulwer–Lytton is often described as ‘the worst writer in history’). It was a pleasure to