COMPETITION

OAP opera

Jaspistos

In Competition No. 1770 you were in- vited to supply a yawn-worthy, unsolicited and sure to be rejected submission to a magazine by an ancient.

In my day I have done the job of sifting through unsolicited magazine material, much of it from the quavering pens or dilapidated typewriters of oldies. Spryly jocose, earnestly banal, soporifically re- miniscential, baroque dotty or plain bonk- ers, they come on all subjects and in all sizes and form a special genre of their own. Your entries (the most numerous ever) were of an exceptionally high standard. At the end my sieve disclosed at least ten equally worthy prizewinners, so I plumped for variety and favoured the less familiar names. £20 each to the winners printed below, and the bonus bottle of Aberlour Single Malt whisky to Jonathan Sleigh.

It was while travelling by rail down the Po valley that the Daily Telegraph's then war correspon- dent alerted me to the relevance of a military background to appreciation of the countryside. 'Good tank country,' he murmured approvingly as he gazed at the otherwise undistinguished landscape. Since then I have found that there is scarcely a view whose fascination cannot be immeasurably enhanced by speculating upon the sort of milit- ary engagement that might be fought over it. Margate would scarcely be my first choice as seaside resort, but start thinking about how you might defend it against amphibious assault, and it has inexhaustible charm.

It is also a curious fact that in every seaside town I have so far examined the ideal site for a forward HQ seems to have been occupied by the McDonald's beef roll firm. Were the Americans not our allies, the Government would clearly be prudent to . . .

(Jonathan Sleigh) Current anxieties about juvenile crime cause me to remember my grandfather and the effective methods he employed. He ensured that the children of our family were too exhausted to even contemplate wrongdoing. His programme of duties filled every spare moment: chopping firewood, weeding, cleaning, and making towels and underclothes from old sacks. Work done was evaluated and he awarded 'points' on which depended the exact weight of the children's daily food ration. Grandmother cooked the food. The padlocked shed in which she was kept suited her sweet, retiring nature.

I have made proposals to the Home Secretary on the lines described above but have not received the courtesy of a reply. One can only wonder at the quality or otherwise of Mr Clarke's grandparents. (Michael Birt) In our regular column on the fascinating subject of world coinage, I should like to address a burning issue — namely the economy. I have deliberated for a not inconsiderable time on this weighty matter and propose using this medium to propound a most ingenious solution to our current difficulties.

I maintain that too many of our fellow citizens hoard their small change, often in insanitary environments such as empty margarine tubs and the like. It is my firmly held opinion that, if these coins were returned in bulk, a plethora of Pennies as it were, the financial straits in which our nation presently finds itself would be drama- tically diminished.

In suggesting this I am not unmindful of the potential administration such a course of action might involve. I remain, however, convinced that this could be ultimately overcome, and conclude with my rallying call — 'Send a coin and save the country.' (Brian Miller)

It is always remarkably pleasant to find one's own ideas so closely coinciding with those of the Editorial Board of such a distinguished maga- zine as the one you preside over (with efficien- cy), as virtually to duplicate them! Which — to cut the cackle — emboldens me to submit to you (with some optimism) a part-MS of my many years' experience as Chief Car-park Attendant at Middlehampton, where, after a lengthy 'working-myself-up' process, I became in sole charge of countless vehicles and their contents. Similarly, I became recognised as the friend of numerous owner-drivers, and the scourge of naughty boys, layabouts, vandals and car- thieves. All 'knew Mr Duffers, and Mr Duffers knew all!' — that was the form. In fact, my heart grew so deeply into the job that I never wished to leave it, even by my retirement time. But the sad day did come; and what do you think happened?

I was given a right royal send-off, leaving banquet, illuminated address, and financial gift!

(Roy Beddoes) I remember lots of things. I remember the war. There was no Aids then, nor loud rock music. In the war we had no oranges nor coffee, but we had egg powder. Young people can't imagine that. As Gertrude Stein once said, 'An egg is an egg is an egg.' (Or was it a rose? And was it really Gertrude Stein? Editor, please check.) I remember the atom bomb being dropped. There was no television then to bring it to you direct. That was a pity.

Of course I travelled a lot in my youth. I have been to France and Germany. The toilets in Germany are cleaner. Ultimately, what sepa- rates us from the Europeans? An Englishman can be a European but no European can be an Englishman. That is a very special gift which only God can bestow.

(Peter Haley-Dunne)

No. 1773: The great game

The late Maurice Richardson once wrote a surrealist story entitled 'The Day We Played Mars'. You are invited to write an account of a sporting contest with this title. Maximum this time 200 words. Entries to 'Competition No. 1773' by 2 April.