No 3679 Set by Leonora Casement

Following the April Fool "How We Met" spoof in the Independent on Sunday (Eminem and Ann Widdecombe), we asked for something similar.

Report by Ms de Meaner

A lot of you clearly had never seen the Independent on Sunday's weekly feature, although I would have thought you might have seen something similar in various newspapers. Then there were others who managed to follow the format, but had the unlikely pair saying things like " . . . and we parted as strangers". Two unlikely people inadvertently meeting and then never seeing each other again rather misses the point, I feel, of a How We Met feature. Hon menshes for Ian Birchall's Noam Chomsky and David Beckham ("I loved his sharp Mancunian wit. When I visited his home, he said: 'I always wanted a Noam in my garden'") and David Silverman's John Taverner and Emma Bunton ("I asked her if she considered the fusion of our human and divine natures as encapsulated in '2 Become 1' as a gift restricted to mystics, poets and other seekers of quintessential spirituality such as ourselves. Her response was . . . profound . . . She said, simply, 'Do you fancy me or what?'"). £20 to the winners; the vouchers go to Adrian Fry.

Paul McCartney and Bertrand Russell

Bertrand Russell - we called him Bert 'cos Ringo's uncle knew a plumber called Bert - came along Abbey Road. I remember John being particularly influenced by him, smoking a pipe for days afterwards. Bert was a great one for philosophy, you know, so we had lots in common 'cos I'd done English at school and John loved pointless arguments. Bert was keen we should work together on a musical version of Principia Mathematica but John couldn't get the equations to rhyme. Besides, Ringo couldn't handle the drumming.

* * *

I remember inquiring of Paul, who was pacing the floor, smoking a curiously pungent cigarette: "Are you thinking of the words or the music?" When he replied, "Neither", I knew him to be a genius. We enjoyed many discussions concerning logic, principally centred upon the question of how many holes might be required to fill the Albert Hall. The Beatles contended that an infinite number of holes could coexist at this location since holes have no mass. I refuted this by demonstrating that no finite space could contain an infinite number of objects. I regret that the resulting gramophone recording retains so little of the flavour of these arguments.

Adrian Fry

David Beckham and Martin Amis

I don't . . . you know, read a lot of books sort of thing. So when I first met Mart, it was, like, who are you then? I didn't realise he was quite well known. He knew about me and Victoria because he did this article in an American magazine about our wedding. Not a Hello! type of thing, it was just words. I didn't know a lot of them, but Victoria said it was a piss-take. So I'm like, what's your problem, Amis, you don't even know us. I hate people being snidy. But he was OK. He thinks we're a postmodern couple, which is, like, even more modern than modern. He's well brainy, obviously, but he's OK. Yeah . . .

* * *

When I met David soon after my jeu d'esprit in Vanity Fair I naturally felt a certain trepidation. He actually couldn't have been nicer. I'm totally convinced there's a piercing intelligence beneath that carapace of amiable stupidity. How else could he have challenged contemporary myths of masculinity during the floppy hair and sarong period, only to comment ironically on his own commentary with his out-of-the-blue Vinnie Jones crop? He has fabulous teeth, incidentally. He's essentially what my dad would have described, with the requisite facial gurning and exaggerated Cockney-style jaw movements, as a diamond geezer.

Peter Norman

Madonna and Milton

I first encountered John at a seance in Florida as the ectoplasm formed an austere figure with furrowed brow. Cool, I thought, and even more so when he spoke to me. Once the medium introduced me, his eyes shone with reverential light and he dropped silently to his knees with bowed head. So much more groovy than my usual screaming, mega-fee-paying fans. He told me that he was reliving the period before blindness struck and was giving thanks for the heavenly vision he had been granted before it was too late.

* * *

Of that first blessed meeting and the time

That I beheld Her radiance and heard

Her empyreal voice and beauteous sound,

In presence yet both human and divine,

And in transcendent glory to be praised,

I sing, O Muse, but not as well as She,

Who, from Her high ethereal eminence

Filled this dark world with golden trumpet chords

Like those which echoed o'er Ionian plains,

And lo! Her shining breastplates rose and fell

To conquer mortal ears. In awe I knelt

And humbly begged a second coming soon

To be vouchsafed to one who stands and waits

And thereby serves Her worshipped majesty.

Barbara Daniels

No 3682 Set by Margaret Rogers

In view of the forthcoming election, can we enlighten the uninitiated by giving the real meaning of such expressions as: "I'm not a racist, but . . . "; "I don't know what new Labour means . . . "; "I'm not against Europe, but . . . "; "I'm not a philistine, but . . . "; "I'm not against refugees, but . . ." (or other such examples). Max 200 words and in by 31 May.

E-mail: comp@newstatesman.co.uk

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