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Competition No 3766

Set by George Cowley, 27 January

Denis MacShane wrote in the NS (6 January): "The art of reporting, describing and telling the story [in newspapers] has been sacrificed on the altar of opinion and pontification." We asked for examples.

Report by Ms de Meaner

There are some comps where I understand what was set the moment I read your entries. What I did know was that I was expecting - in the spirit of Denis MacShane's criticism ("Our newspapers are awash with columns and commentaries on foreign affairs . . . ") - opinions rather than straight news reporting.

That meant, sadly, that I had to reject new entrant Carl Maxim's piece on Mr Michael Angelo's daubs in the Sistine Chapel ("Am I alone in asking the question: is it art?"). It was terribly funny (I suspect we'll be seeing a lot more of Mr Maxim in the future, especially if I set the comp he has obviously entered). But what else could an article about a fresco that the author disliked be - except his opinion?

Ditto John O'Byrne's entry entitled: "Who shot President Kennedy?" Everyone has their pet theories to a mystery that may never be solved, but no such piece could ever, as far as I can see, be criticised for being "sacrificed on the altar of opinion".

And all those who thought we simply meant news stories chock-full of opinion poll results can stand in the corner with a pointy hat on.

So . . . hon menshes to newcomer Jack Walsh for his try at the 1966 World Cup final ("the culmination of a low-key tournament [which] was won by the English XI with goals from Mr Hurst (3) and Mr Peters (1) against two from the athletic, muscular Teutons"), and David Silverman for his opinion-riddled report on PM's Questions ("Mr Iain Duncan Hyphen Aristocratic Affectation Smith"). £20 to the winners (an earthquake in Mexico, the 1966 World Cup final, the fall of Sodom and Gomorrah) who managed to tiptoe their way to the winners' enclosure. The overall champion is Michael Leapman, who also gets the Tesco vouchers.

Message to those who set comps last year: I shall be organising your payments in the next few weeks.

The World Cup final, and the eternal battle between light and darkness as England take on the Germans. It began badly. An English error and Haller, hovering nearby - hovering? Skulking, more like - sent the ball past England's universally respected goalie, Gordon Banks.

But, with the spirit of Dunkirk, the indomitable English rallied. Martin Peters - the very name speaks of sturdy English yeomanry - scored!

Then, in the second half, Geoff Hurst, that excellent gentleman, gave England the lead they so clearly deserved.

But, with one minute to go, the Huns were awarded a free kick - a Swiss referee, we all know what that means - and scrambled a despicably ragged equaliser.

The English are best with their backs to the wall, and in extra time Hurst hit the bar. Did the ball come down over the line? The Russian linesman, displaying English fair play and impartiality, said goal!

And with seconds to go, Hurst scored again! Victory to England!

And who would be surprised if God himself raised a cheer in Heaven!?!

Michael Cregan

We English, eh? Geography has never been our strong suit, with the name of Mexico more likely to call to mind scenes from spaghetti westerns shot in Italy than anything authentically Mexican. Earthquakes, too, are somewhat off our experiential radar, scarcely figuring in our greyly uneventful childhoods except as the subject of disaster movies as disastrous in execution as subject matter.

To report an earthquake in Mexico, therefore, is to pile vagary upon vagary. In our mind's eye, poncho-clad horsemen battle their way from the rubble while Charlton Heston works his way through a ponderous cameo. We know that's not how it is, but that's how we feel it is.

And feeling is what the Mexicans want us to do. Mexico is, after all, a third world country too distant to inspire charitable giving, too foreign for us to imagine ourselves in its predicament. Gaudy clothes, absurd moustaches; the very things we imagine make Mexicans individual somehow compartmentalise them into a world of which earthquakes may form an integral part.

How many are dead? It doesn't matter to us, just as its not mattering to us doesn't matter to them. Obviously, no Britons were involved.

Adrian Fry

Long-suffering residents of Zoar were jubilant last night when, after months of indecision, God finally cracked down on the creeps and perverts of neighbouring Sodom and Gomorrah - cities that had become bywords for filth and degradation. Both were destroyed by extreme weather and God's new "smart fire" that only consumes known sexual deviants.

Officials confirmed that no innocents were lost in the blaze or flooding, and it seems certain that unnatural acts have now been obliterated from the face of the Earth for all time. There was an outcry last week when the dithering Deity announced that He was still seeking a peaceful solution based on repentance and counselling.

But quite apart from issues of health, child protection and population growth, there had been widespread complaints that Zoar was being flooded by hordes of asylum-seeking heterosexuals (see pages 4, 5, 6 and 7). Although gay activists questioned God's authority to make moral judgements on lifestyle choices, senior Holy sources said He had eventually been forced to act when His team of inspectors found thousands of obscene images downloaded from cave walls. (Page 3: Wot a Lot I Got! Reader's wife models saucy salt sculpture.)

Michael Leapman

No 3769 Set by Margaret Rogers

Anne Robinson uses TV celebrities on The Weakest Link. But what would Anne be like in their jobs? We want extracts from these shows, with Anne as a weather girl, perhaps, or possibly on Blind Date. Please come up with better examples if you can.

Max 200 words by 28 February (to appear in issue dated 10 March). E-mail: comp@newstatesman.co.uk

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