COMPETITION

Disprover(b)s

Jaspistos

In Competition No. 1454 you were in- vited to supply a narrative poem disproving a proverb.

A multiplicity of reasons — the mind- numbing cold, the dislocation of routine, the sparkle of your entries, the dullness of the subject of proverbs and the fact that all work and no play make Jaspistos a dull boy — are to blame for my making no attempt to amuse you this week. The winners can do it well enough — over to them. They earn £4 each. Colin Peters deserves a cheer for his entertaining effort to illustrate Proverbs xv, 17: 'Better is a dinner of herbs where love is than a stalled ox and hatred therewith.' M.R. Macintyre makes off with the bonus bottle of Ferreira Late Bottled Vintage Port, donated by Stowells of Chelsea.

Least said . . .

Rather than speak a word for Mr Right I had to bite my tongue and clench my jaw. The end, of course, was soon enough in sight, And Mr Wrong became my son-in-law.

(M.R. Macintyre) One cloudless, sultry summer's day I had a mind to make some hay.

Whilst toiling gladly on the stack I let the sun beat on my back.

That evening in the glass I saw A fresh-cooked lobster, red and raw.

Since then my rule's been hard and fast: Make hay when it is overcast. (Peter Norman) A boy sat dreaming by the fire: He heard the cooking pot suspire, And watched it as it sighed away.

A pot that's watched ne'er boils, they say; But boil eventually it did.

He watched its palpitating lid - The heavy metal raised by . . . steam?

That dreaming boy began to scheme.

(Andrew McEvoy) Young Marmaduke stood on a cliff, The victim of a nagging wife. `I can't go on,' he said. 'I am Determined to curtail my life.'

A very comely maid came by; She spoke and smiled and he was hooked.

They wed and she began to nag.

He should have leapt before he looked. (Peter Alexander) You can lead a horse . . .

The Queen led to Loch Katrine's brink

A colt (an ass!) to have a drink,

But as it did not bend its head

The Queen knelt down and slurped instead.

With fine horse-sense the monarch knew The best instruction is to do.

The penny, as the sovereign sank, Dropped in the equine skull. It drank.

(George Moot)

My father was cast in a miserly mould And cosseted copper as if it were gold,

But though pots of pence overburden my shelves The pounds still refuse to look after themselves.

(Jean Hayes) Absence makes the heart grow fonder?

Cunning like, three years I wander.

When I comes back yesterday,

`Er says, 'Hullo. You been away?'

(B.J. KennedY)

Like father, like son

At speaking Alun Jones was number one; Throughout his life he always held first place. So, Alun gone, we all picked Dai, his son, just. ust the man to stand and plead our case.

But on the platform what did our boy do? He stood and gaped as if he'd been struck dumb. His dad, you see, had talked enough for two, And anyway young Dai takes after mum.

(Keith Norman) Fido, hungry, used to say, Every dog shall have his day.

Waiting for his day to come, He dropped dead without a crumb.

(T. Griffiths) At restaurants in Lisle Street Abundant cooks prepare the meat, The rice, the seafood and the soup.

So vive la cuisine de groupe!

(Basil Ransome-Davies)

The favourite food of Auntie Adelaide Was toast, cut thick, and likewise thickly spread With dripping, butter, honey, marmalade Or jam. Oh! How she loved that daily bread!

Unfortunately Auntie Addie weighed Too much for health, expiring with a groan; For butter surplus ounces won't abrade, Nor constant dripping wear away a stone. (Marguerite Kendrick) A miss is as good as a mile, they say. That's a load of malarky.

For I saw the flash and heard the bang At a place called Nagasaki. (J. Seery)

No man can serve two masters

Albert Jones and Frederick Finney, Pedagogues by occupation, Perished during their vacation In the jungles of New Guinea, Captured by a chap who knew How to turn them into stew.

(Philip A. Nicholson) Old ill-intentioned John felt sure The saying proved he would be saved.

He died and found, too late to cure, The road to Hell with proverbs paved.

(Jeremiah Sowerby)

Ill got, ill spent

Bert knew it were rotten To rob a poor widder, But kindly consider 'E used 'is ill-gotten To 'elp 'is old muvver From sickness recover.

(Michael Brereton)

In vino veritas, they say.

But in the club the other day, When telling of your sporting side, The more you drank, the more you lied.

(Noel Petty)