SPECTATOR COMPETITION No. 6o

Report by C. H. Lewis

A prize was offered for not more than twelve additional lines to a " Hate Poem" beginning: I have been so great a lover, but I found Love not enough to make my world go round ; Love is a passing whim: I celebrate _Th' eternal horror of the things I hate ...

Although when setting this competition I did not mention Rupert Brooke, I did expect that most competitors would have his verses in mind, and that they would produce a catalogue of their particular dislikes. Most did so, but a few preferred to write on hatred in the abstract ; none of these attempts was really successful, and I had no hesitation in eliminating them at the start. I also elimi- nated the numerous entries which were technically inaccurate ; apparently an ear for rhythm is more rare than I had thought, On the whole, I do not think that this was the occasion for attacking atom bombs and the larger problems of life. As Mrs. V. R. Ormerod said, "The things I hate, the things I've always hated, Are little things perhaps exaggerated."

Many competitors were able to produce two or three lines of high standard, but could not keep it up for twelve lines. Many also felt the need for some climax, and found it difficult to include one in the space allowed, although several ended by expressing their hatred for the adjudicator who did not award them the prize.

There is behind this, however, none of the passion that inspired the many verses about household chores and domesticity, as in the entry from Miss J. S. Horne: "Dishonesty, bad manners, things that stink ; But most, oh most of all, the kitchen sink."

Rupert Brooke's " white cups and plates clean-gleaming " are now only objects to be washed up, or—worse—cups disfigured by lip- stick and saucers filled with cigarette-ash ; both these were men- tioned by several competitors.

On the whole, the eye and the ear seem to be the most tender of our senses. Smells occurred only occasionally, although Issachar hated comprehensively

"The smells of cabbage cooking, rotten meat, Burnt rubber, diesel oil and human feet."

Human feet, by the way, appeared several times, much to my sur- prise: I must have led a sheltered life.

The competition seems to have served one useful purpose: it gme an outlet for a burst of ferocity from quite a number of country rectories ; no doubt the psychologists would approve. I liked the climax by the Rev. Walter Angus:

" And last of all my hates—a parson's choice— I most abominate the pulpit voice."

Most of the clerical entries, however, were too kind-hearted.

I recommend that a first prize of £2 be awarded to Allan M. Laing, whose entry had the authentic ring ; prizes of £1 each go to Douglas Hawson (despite an uncertain first line), Miss D. Spring and Margaret Usborne. Highly commended are R. S. Stanier and I cslic Johnson (who spoiled an otherwise excellent entry by his List three lines)..

FIRST PRIZE (ALLAN M. LAING)

These I have loathed: stale, acrid reek of sweat ; Cold clamminess of rubber after wzt ; Boots sickly-warm and waterlogged, that swish With every step ; stewed tea (the bitter dish Charladies love); the fetid air of rooms Too small, whose windows prison unwashad glooms; The slime of slugs ; straight footpaths daubed with dung ; Harsh numbing taste of steel upon the tongue; Sickbed: the wrinkled sheet, the elusive, small, Inevitable crumb ; then, worse than all, Sea-sickness, which indifferently schools '

Good men and bad, philosophers and fools.

SECOND PRIZES (DOUGLAS HAwsoN)

Great mounds of wilting flowers on graves, caged birds, And bureaucratically-invented words : A café saucer full of rouge-stained stubs,

The "County" patronising humble pubs, And adolescents worshipping the " stars," And paunchy plutocrats in gleaming cars ; Permed five-year-olds, large womcn in small slacks, Fat men, unbuttoned, snoring on their backs.

Green scum on ponds, dead eels and living frogs, And childless women cosseting toy dogs; Tadpoles and tapioca, Beauty Queens, And all the soggy things dished up as " greens."

(Miss D. SPRING)

Bright-polished floors with wildly skidding mats; And theatregoers in enormous hats ; Tea shared between the saucer and the cup; Boiled fish ; commercial English ; getting up; The self-effacement of some vital ticket , The vacuum that's left by rained-off cricket ; Large squishy spiders ; gorgonzola cheese; All people who insist on singing "Trees"; And those who call a howling draught fresh air.

Uncatalogued aversions, now beware: 1 stop from shortage not of spite but space, And shall denounce you in some other place.

(MARGARET USBORNE)

Tone poems; hooting cars ; the smell of cats; New shiny suites in lounges ; meanness ; rats ; Having to laugh at jokes I've heard before And don't feel funny ; constant fear of war ; Envy, disguised as moral indignation (Chiefly my own); mistakes of punctuation ; Sighing ; voluptuous wallowing in disaster ; People who smoke, then cough, and smoke the faster ; Intense, neurotic women ; pompous men ; That smug announcer ; mince ; my leaky pen.

A muddled, trivial crowd, yet there you sec,

More than in all my loves, th' essential me.