Competition No 3857
Set by Gavin Ross, 8 November
You were asked for apologies from famous people for their mistakes.
Report by Ms de Meaner
I received handsome apologies from Oscar Wilde to the warders and inmates of Reading gaol giving the excuse of "artistic licence" (Adrian Fry) and from James Joyce for calling Ireland the "old sow that eats her farrow"(Josh Ekroy). I also liked Gene Pitney's letter to "the dearest, darling inhabitants of Tulsa" (Ian Birchall). Hon menshes to you all. I realise John Swift's entry doesn't contain the word "sorry", but I think it's implicit. £20 to the winners; the best (David Silverman) also gets the Tesco vouchers.
To the teaching profession and parents of children who attend comprehensives, I am sorry that my remarks on the quality of education at these establishments were open to misinterpretation. When I said "bog standard", I was not referring to low aspirations but to the depth and richness of the curriculum. Perhaps I should have said peat bog, as this precious material nurtures young plants the way staff encourage young minds to blossom.
I have explained this, to their satisfaction I am sure, to the many socially aware, wise and caring teachers who are also members of Labour Party selection committees. As I said, should I be fortunate enough to be chosen to stand in their constituency, I would make visits to the excellent schools a high priority. There; no spin, no hidden agenda - just my apologies for the fact that you misconstrued my compliment. Alistair
Lisbeth Rake
They buck you up, your mum and dad,
They always meant to and they do.
They give you all the love they had,
And add some extra, just for you.
'Cos they were bucked up, in their turn,
By nans and grandads, all the way
From dawn to dusk, they had to learn
To love their neighbour every day.
Nan handed on her love to mam,
Who passed it on to me, her son.
Now every blessed thing I am
Will be in my kids, every one.
John J Swift
Oh borough of Slough, oh borough of Slough,
How graceless and tasteless my poem looks now:
A pox on my words, bless your fresh cotton socks,
And your crisp Orange Pippins, created by Cox!
Like you, I embraced what was strictly commercial,
And gazed at the skies, like your William Herschel,
In Slough he found Uranus, a planet one cheers -
And you've also made Mars Bars for eighty-odd years.
Oh borough of Slough, oh borough of Slough,
My graveyard in Cornwall prepares for your plough -
An importunate poet, I bathe you in praise,
And now you're made famous by Ricky Gervais.
Bill Greenwell
Oh golly, I feel I owe a profound apology to all you ghosts and ghoulies and goblins, werewolves and vampires and all those things that go "bump".
I was not for one moment implying that you couldn't pronounce your "L"s, or that you would support the poll tax, or sack the director-general of the Prison Service, or have naughty affairs with ghostly models, or not give Jeremy Paxman a straight answer, or indeed support Liverpool FC.
No, I really did not mean any offence, not to you nor any of your otherworldly supernatural creature friends. Now would you please care to turn me back into a human? Ann
David Silverman
No 3860 by Keith Norman
Fiction is a foreign country: the laws of probability work differently there. In soaps, all coach outings end in fatal crashes. The murder rate is abnormally high in Midsomer. Select a genre and offer some risk assessment and insurance advice to the hapless characters.
Max 150 words by 9 December to comp@newstatesman.co.uk.
