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COMPETITION

Utopia?

Jaspistos

IN COMPETITION NO. 1947 you were invited to provide a poem beginning with the words, 'In an ideal world.. .

It's an almost ideal world this morning, Bank Holiday Saturday, at ease in my north London garden. The motorised lem- mings are on the road towards the cliffs, leaving behind a silence that takes some getting used to, the butterflies are mobbing the buddleia, the apples are ripening, my wine and my book are equally satisfying, the .. . but here comes a helicopter and there goes my Achilles' tendon again!

In an ideal world, all of you, as some of you pointed out, would get prizes. Well, I'm giving as many as I can. The winners, printed below, get £20 each (except for Richard Boston, who gets f10), and the bonus bottle of Isle of Jura Single Malt Scotch whisky goes to Alyson Nildteas. Congratulations all round.

In an ideal world there would be no traffic — Just me and the Mere, all walnut and leather; Straight roads; perpetually fine weather; Twins — one of each — in the back, seraphic.

A man, of course — they're quite useful, too — But one to anticipate my mood, Clever with forms, and fads, and food, And who'd never ask, Was it good for you?'

In my ideal world there would be no fear Of stretchmark, sag or encroaching grey; No need to urge me to seize the day In an everlasting twenty-fifth year!

And I'd never be out of bread or breath, Temper or tampons; life would run So sweetly that everything would be fun! In an ideal world I'd be bored to death.

(Alyson Nikiteas)

In an ideal world every choky cell Would be fitted out like a posh 'otel; There'd be a load less unsolved crime Just so we could all be doing time. Then there'd be no need for the steady job And we'd all be part of the 'eavy mob.

We could take the screws for bleedin' mugs — There'd be plenty of booze and a choice of drugs, For our visitors would walk straight in With the crack and the speed and the heroin. They'd abolish keys and the boundary wall But no one would go on the run at all. A few home visits to bed the wife, Then back to the stint and the peaceful life. Yet all those screwed-up social workers think In an ideal world there would be no clink (Giles Ewing) In an ideal world (as Eden was, pre-Fall) Cats don't dismember fieldmice in the hall; The plums are wasp-free; souffles never fail; Tap water's safe; we still have British Rail; The post, uninterrupted, comes at seven And global warming's merely rumour; heaven Is butterflies-on-buddleia paradise — No greenfly, blackfly, horsefly, ant or lice; Lilies and sunflowers bloom at record height — No mildew, blackspot, leafcurl, wilt or blight; Church Eucharist is 1662; Britons win Wimbledon, Olympics too; Poets find rhymes for 'orange'; guns are banned; Each summer beach is virgin golden sand; MPs fight clean on issues. One thing more: I'd be size eight, and you'd be six feet four.

(D.A. Prince) In an ideal world there'd be no piles, There'd be no Tony Blair, There'd be miles and miles of mutual smiles And a drug for every cam.

In an ideal world no gun would fire, No dog would defecate, Truth would inspire the repentant liar And the Germans get up late.

In an ideal world my girth would be Much smaller than my height, And venery would be risk-free, And lighters always light.

I'd live on lobster Thermidor And Piper-Heidsieck fizz, And in my core I'd know antor — In an ideal world, that is.

(Basil Ransome-Davies) In an ideal world, in the beginning, Before they blew the lot by sinning, Adam and Eve had nothing to do But manage a garden where everything grew Without digging or weeding or any such chores, And the climate was perfect to live out of doors. They didn't have houses and went without dressing And so did no washing and drying and pressing. There was plenty of fruit to be had for the taking, So no need for flying or boiling or baking. If Eden, however, were truly ideal, To me, I'm afraid, it just wouldn't appeal; Such a surfeit of fruit would upset my digestion And a life without friends would be out of the question.

I'd be bored out of mind with no reading and writing, And to be in the nude would be most unexciting.

(0. Smith) In an ideal world I'd deal Myself A heart A spade A club A diamond An ace of each And then a joker .

And thus I'd win my game of poker.

(Richard Boston)

No. 1950: Snappy number

You are invited to provide a 'Song of the Wicked Paparazzo' for a modern operetta. Maximum 16 lines. Entries to 'Competi- tion No. 1950' by 12 September.