No 3644 Set by Gavin Ross
The Bard adapted by W S Gilbert.
Report by Grace Elegy
£20 to the winners; the vouchers go to David Tyler. Hon menshes all round. Superb.
On my tod in a playpen my gaga papa
Sang, "Bastard, you bastard, you bastard!"
And I thought, "Daddy Gloucester, that's going too far,
Singing, 'Bastard, you bastard, you bastard!'"
Are you up to your eyeballs in logic-less guff?
Observe my half-brother - the dreary cream puff!
You're in hock to the horoscope, all of that stuff -
I'm no bastard, no bastard, no bastard!
He sent me away, for the shame of it all,
Called me, "Bastard, dear bastard, you bastard!"
Now his credulous meddling will lead to a fall,
Caused by Bastard, the Bastard, his Bastard.
He's banished my brother, the balding old coot
While I'm conning Cornwall to lift me the loot
As he empties Pa's sockets of jelly to boot -
Some bastard, some bastard, some bastard!
Will Bellenger (Edmund in King Lear)
When you're lying awake with a dismal headache, and you know that your woman's two-timing you,
You get to the stage where you're shaking with rage and you feel her betrayal's begriming you;
Snakes writhe in your belly, your legs turn to jelly, your guts empty out with no warning;
You know you should chuck her; you still want to fuck her, and sleep in her arms till the morning.
You're growling out oaths, 'cos you've slept in your clothes and they're looking decidedly manky;
Her face swims before you, she used to adore you, but there's no gainsaying that hanky!
Her vile assignation spawns your degradation - may legions of toads spit upon her!
Straight after you've faced her, you know you must waste her, for death's the sole cure for dishonour.
Anne Du Croz (Othello)
When your uncle's having nookie with your mother,
Having topped her loving husband in his prime;
And your dad's ghost thinks you ought to kill his brother,
To avenge that black and diabolic crime;
Then a young prince gets to seriously brooding:
Will he, won't he, can he, can't he, get it done?
In the end prevaricatingly concluding
Hamlet Junior's lot is not a happy one.
With his mater, whom he thinks he can embarrass,
To forsake the nuptial pleasures of the marriage bed,
He hears a strangled cry from just beyond the arras:
Now one rapier thrust and then the king is dead.
Close inspection now reveals a different story:
It's not Claudius but Polonius who's gone;
Proving yet again but now a fortiori
Young Hamlet's lot is not a happy one.
Watson Weeks (Hamlet)
In a castle in Denmark a gloomy young prince
Said: "Being or not, that's the question."
And I said to him: "Hamlet, O why all these hints
About being or not? That's the question.
Has Ophelia slighted you lately?" I cried,
"Or is Gertrude's new marriage a thorn in your side?"
With a shake of his tragical head he replied,
"Oh, being or not, that's the question."
As he grunted and sweated his weary life through
Over "Being or not, that's the question",
His dreams turned to nightmares, for that's what they do
When being or not is your question.
He talked about ending it all there and then,
But couldn't decide how or where, and if, when,
Until Claudius' poison was used once again.
Rest in silence. He's answered the question.
Cynthia Hall (Hamlet)
First the sea begins churning, you're tossing and turning till all of your body's quite wearisome;
Then you're barely alive, you're at full fathom five and you're wrecked in a tempest Shakespearisome.
For you dream of an island (that's nowhere near Thailand) and find that your surname is Prospero;
Though you're king of the land, you are miles from Milan and as rich and as pointless as Ross Perot.
First you kill with an axe the vile witch Sycorax and you steal her small baby called Caliban;
He is brutish and ugly and clootish and buggly and has all the charm of the Taliban.
So you yearn for the wonder of magic and conjure a being all light and ethereal;
But you suddenly find that you spend half the time getting up and adjusting your Ariel.
Then your half-brother's boat crashes into your moat and you're saddled with two drunken failures;
And your daughter Miranda then plucks up her dander and goes on the lookout for sailors . . .
David Tyler (The Tempest)
No 3647 Set by John O'Byrne
We want the descriptions and rules of some new Olympic sports inspired by our elders and betters. Eg, synchronised spinning (Alastair Campbell), the Pentlagerthon (William Hague). We'll accept one long description or a number of shorter ones. Max 200 words by 21 September.
E-mail: comp@newstatesman.co.uk
Post this article to
We want to encourage people to comment on our content and to exchange views with other readers and hope this will be done on a courteous basis. However, if you encounter posts which are offensive please let us know by using the 'report this comment' facility or by emailing comments@newstatesman.co.uk and we will take swift action where necessary.
