No 3594 Set by George Cowley
We asked for a few minutes from the mind of a person of your choice.
Report by Ms de Meaner
Possibly the most accurate entry came from David Silverman: "Wahay look at look at me, wahay me me me, money, money, sex, sex, me, me" - and so, gloriously, on. Oh, you want to know who this is? Why, Chris Evans, of course. However, I felt the others had made slightly more effort and therefore penalised him.
This week you divided into two groups: those who believe we think in complete sentences festooned with colons and semicolons, and those who don't. In the end I felt it didn't matter. £15 to winners; the bottle goes to Steve Walters.
Me! Me, me, me! When I'm mayor of . . . First among equals - no, I've done that. Me! Thank God for Margaret - must remember to say Mary in the speech. Bloody press, always picking your words over. Turn again Livingstone - not quite right, that - anyway he won't get the ticket. Knifey lot, Labour - worse than Tories. Beautiful Margaret! Winners pick winners - that's a good title. Streets awash with Krug when I'm mayor. Nothing too showy. Mayoral jogging gear? Walking on the Thames - yessss! With Margaret. "Icons of the age" - no, forget age - "the new century." First goes on the Ferris wheel. More Krug. Ferris wheel, big steal. Any novels about Ferris wheels? I could do it. I can do anything. Mayor and all the trimmings. Margaret knows a winner. Me! Me, me, me! Bye-bye Warhols, buy, buy - someone else. Who else? Someone clean, spotless. Never had spots - NEVER HAD SPOTS. Used that tube stuff - tube - haven't used the Tube since - 60p it cost. Good value. People shouldn't whinge. When I'm . . . new socks. Every day. Make it policy. Tell Margaret - No! Mary. Good old Margaret. What a trouper! When I'm mayor . . .
D A Prince
. . . a Cunard liner and a schooner of gin begin the beguine why are footmen called footmen my feet hurt so nice so nice thank you third race at Sandringham Sandhurst Sandown sandboy happy as a 5/2 on the race is overdraft have to fish in my pocket fish in my throat 99 not out and a dowager a wager in my day we had lords and ladies lord chamberlain Chamberlain wing collar very polite stiff as a poker don't flutter your eyelashes I told you flutter have a flutter Britannia rules the waves not waving but drowning a gin and rummy he was a card Churchill cigar a tiara tea and the enclosure at Ascot the 3.30 time for a snifter Baldwin was not bald Churchill did not go to church the moral is that Balmoral with the ghillies and Lilibet to win and each way you look the unemployed Lloyd George knew my father save us heavenly father save us the sentry century sent a telegram dram drambuie louis cooeee corgi porgy and bess God bless press dinner to be with the woman I love what poppycock clock carriage palace honi soit dubonnet thank you . . .
Will Bellenger
Wonder if I can get the colour of the red boxes changed? It clashes with my complexion. Ginger really is a rather becoming colour in a statesman. Unlike Brown. Whoar, nice arse. And the beard . . . raffish and photogenic. There's another. Oh God, Madeleine looks constipated. And another. Is she trying to think? That one not so good. How many beddable interpreters are there in this bloody place? Kosovo. Whose Alamo? Amas. Amat. Clever boy. Or Waterloo. Which singer, blonde or brunette? I'd have given one to either. Looking their age these days, though. Unlike me. Ugly Rumours! And he's been spreading them ever since. Slippery little shit. Your starter for No 10. Which Margaret was worse? Tricky one that. She can't be wearing a bra. John Smith's natural successor but I'm not bitter - or stout like Prescott. Must use that one. Can John pronounce Kalashnikov? Sod this, another ten minutes and I'm knocking off for lunch. Aw, shame about the legs. Why doesn't the World Service carry the racing results? A disgrace. Must have a word in someone's ear, I pay for the bloody thing. Christ, that's a very short dress. If I dropped my pencil . . .
Steve Walters
. . . far too early where the hell are they? Ah ha! Backatha hall intha gloom stanstill gottanitch auuuuuuug! No scratching doo-be-doo-be-doo . . . concentrate Char-leeeee! No smiling first shot of il duce for the broadsheets serious not solemn head up patrician stance banish double chin with banish grey hair with gingernob fullagob . . . gobshite doo-be-doo-be-doo . . . remember remember ginger Kinnock ginger pillock . . . where the hell's Her Maj? Here they come tie straight? Too late big boy scout big girl's blouse . . . tone down simmer down! RELAX! Scarlet sweating eyes wide eyes wide eyes wide? Open or look piggy in the pics think Gravitas. FUCKIT WHERE'S LIZ? Christ! Mailshot mugshot look like my dog's died . . . pulp the lot? Whya pic? Tellem it's me needs pee too late!They've stopped! WhatdoIdo? Tapdance? Mailshot mugshot stop-the-shot inthapost too late! Begin at the beginning leader's first letter . . . Dear friend I want to tell you about . . . scandal! E-n-v-i-r-o-n-m-e-n-t, green . . . green as grass son of the soil honest toil shares our values rich 'n' poor it's the rich what gets the pleasure, it's the poor da-da-da-da . . . bleedin' shame . . . have-not Lib Dems need your dosh please debit my Visa/Mastercard aw shit here they come I appeal to you . . .
Anne Du Croz
No 3597 Set by John Crick
"Perhaps there is a very good drama to be made about road rage," said Kathryn Flett in the Observer. Actually Shakespeare, Oscar Wilde, Ibsen, Pinter, Beckett et al all wrote plays about it. Extracts, please (max 200 words) by 23 September. To beep, or not to beep: that is the question!
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