SPECTATOR COMPETITION No. 68
Report by Mervyn Horder Half-way through this twentieth century, what with one thing and another, there is room for reasonable doubt about the apprb- primeness of the lion as the symbolic animal of Great Britain. Competitors were asked to elevate another beast to his sovereign place, giving reasons.
Well, how does it feel, fellow horses ? For that, by the majority verdict in this competition, is what we are to be ia future." Bracketed equal next are sheep and the valiant band who stick out for remaining lions—lionesses or lion cubs, perhaps, but indefeasibly leonine. Next came elephants, unicorns and cows equal ; and then a long tail of miscellaneous zoology, ending with the kinkajou, jackass, gnu, phoenix, goldfish, worm and iguanodon (the British Iguanodon Film Corporation doesn't sound quite right, does it ?). I personally opt for the elephant, who is tough, clever, rather puritanical and disposed to knock off work the moment the temple bells sound five o'clock ; but no competitor put him* forward felicit- ously enough. I have to salute Joyce Johnson for pointing out how well unicorn now chimes in with Unesco ; Rhoda Tuck Pook who cites the ruminant habit of the cow as evidence of increasing U.S. influence here ; D. S. Walker for choosing the mule as being " unable to reproduce its kind—there will never be another quite like it " ; and I. H. Meiklejohn for this couplet: " Moderate in all things and in no way skittish 0 Pelican, by birth exotic, but by nature British." —but the rat of their entries were not so good. Indeed no one was outstanding this week, and 1 recommend a guinea to each_of the five best: H. A. C. Evans (sheep), N. Hodgson (cat), S. L. Drummond- Jackson (chipmunk), Michael Ford (horse) and Roger Till (giraffe). There is unfortunately not room to print the last of these.
PRIZES (H. A. C. Evois) My candidate to replace the Lion as the symbol of Great Britain is the Sheep. A woolly creature, it is mild, sad and foolish in appearance, and is accustomed to being pushed around—treatment which causes it to object loudly but quite ineffectually. Its facial expression is one of suffering resignation. Temperamentally gregarious. it delighis in crowds, and seems lost, frightened and unhappy when alone. It is of a fugitive disposition and will go to almost army lengths to avoid a fight. When cornered, however, it has been known to turn on its tormentors. Its voice is plaintive, even peevish, and though it it capable of carrying some distance, little attention is usually paid to it. It is generally regarded as a stupid animal and is easily suggestible ; one of its remarkable traits is its readiness to line up behind its fellows, often for no apparently good reason. Finally, despite loud and violent protests, it is annually fleeced.
(N. HODGSON) To the College of Heralds: SIRS,—.1 hereby apply for the vacant position of Heraldic Beast of England. I am of ancient and honourable lineage, worshipped as sacred by the Egyptians and regarded as a symbol of liberty by the Romans. My place in the history of England is assured owing to my association with that distinguished citizen, the late Sir Richard Whittington, while my possession of nine lives is emblematic of the diehard spirit of the race, and my capacity for falling on my feet of its powers of resilience. Indeed, I regard myself as a typical Englishman.. I do what I like, I go where 1 please, I think my own thoughts and I keep my own council. I may not be a king of beasts, but I am the only animal considered fit to look a king in the face. And may I suggest, in all modesty, that I have one overwhelming advantage even over the late illustrious holder of the office? If I am represented by my Manx incarnation—no one can twist my tail. Testimonials enclosed from Mr. C. Smart, Mr. R. Kipling, Mr. M.
Joseph and Mr. N. Hodgson.—Yours fluffily, PUSSY CAT.
(S. L DRUMMOND-JACKSON) Obviously the Chipmunk is the only possible choice to fill the vacant situation. Driven from many of his old haunts, thumbs almost worn away trying to get along this scruffy little chap has been bred especially for the job.
He will work with a will for something good to eat: almost vegetarian by necessity, just watch him wolf an egg, given the chance. Without an incentive, however. he is content to sit around outside his house chattering and leaving the exploring to the other fellow, who meanwhile is probably stealing his nuts.
He still boasts a few rich relations who can afford expensive furs— some even with padded shoulders. He cannot extend as much hospitality as he wishes, however, on account of the unwelcome visitors he has to suffer at home, in the shape of weasels, owls and rattlesnakes, who sabotage a large percentage of his production. But just wait till he gets his new teeth!
(MICHAEL FORD)
It was the Government of the middle years of the century which deposed the Lion as a shameful symbol of our imperialistic heritage. In the spirit of the times these prosaic men selected as its successor the horse. And who shall dens, their logic? No roaming the forests or deserts. Work No preying on the down-trodden. Get into harness yourself. Eat the same oats as other people. You'll get your fair share—no more.
Is there anywhere a more noble creature? Look at our race-horses. Immortalised by artists Famous sires sent round the world to perpetuate our British stock. A glorious thought, a song of joy in our corporate heart.
And what an example of utility! Cheap to breed, cheap to operate, years of working life, and still worth something when dead. But a still more perfect example for mankind. Works full eight hour day, never complains, dumb, a little stupid, doesn't even mind blinkers.
Yes—a beast that truly typifies what the ideal Englishman should be, plodding on to eternity, content to be no better than his fellows, happy in a herd, slightly out-dated, but proudly carrying the future forever on his back.
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