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Competition No 3930
Set by Tom Wilkinson, 8 May
You were asked to send in likely love poems from Prezza.
Report by Ms de Meaner
My new habit of welcoming newcomers to the Comp complex is starting to backfire. Paul Kelly, whom I welcomed on 8 May, writes to point out that he is not "strictly speaking" a newbie. Apparently he won once 15 years ago with an entry about Margaret Thatcher. Just slipped my mind, Paul! I also had a note attached to the bottom of an entry from Barbara Burge (not a winner) to pre-empt my joyous hallooo. She thought she'd better 'fess up about how "back in the dear dead Tony Howard days I had a few entries printed and earned a couple of quid (literally)". I say unto you that likewise joy shall be in the Comp complex over one comper that returneth . . . et cetera.
This week, we welcome Doreen Wardle,
Mrs A McKeith, Jean Taylor and Freny Olbrich. That last looks eerily familiar. Don't tell me. You last won, how many years ago was it? Of course . . . This week's winners get £25 each, plus the Tesco vouchers go to Paul Kelly.
And an hon mensh to Josh Ekroy for the first lines of two of his verses:
Can you fit me in there, luv
On the second or the third?
and:
Oh pencil me in, me luvly,
And find a slot for me.
Well done, all of you.
"Bat Out of Hull" by "Meatloaf" Prescott
The division bells are screaming and the whips are howling
Way down in the Commons tonight
There's a man in the shadows with a fist in his eye
And Blair's shining oh so bright
There's evil in the air and there's thunder in the sky
And Tories on the bloodshot streets
And down in the tunnel where the Lib Dems are rising
Oh I swear I saw a "young" Ming
Down in the gutter
He was starting to foam in the heat
Oh Baby you're the only thing in this whole world
That's pure and good and right
And wherever you are and wherever you go
There's always gonna be some light
But I gotta get out I gotta break it out now
Before the final vote of dawn
So we gotta make the most of our one night together
When it's over you know
We'll both be so alone
Like a bat out of Hull
I'll be gone when the morning comes
When the night is over
Like a bat out of Hull I'll be gone gone gone . . .
Like a bat out of Hull I'll be gone when the morning comes. (cont another 37 verses)
Paul Kelly
Because let there be no misunderstatement about this,
In relation of you, you're eleven, off a sliding scale of one to ten,
You've greened my brownfield sprawl, exceeded all targets met
In respect of rising sap levels within the ODPM.
Because I want me to be absolutely clear on this one,
I've not felt as together as when together we're all alone,
I envisage us co-opulating like a well-oiled machismo,
Fill my Diary with you and then I never need go home.
Because unequivocational isn't a word in my language,
You're well fit for purpose, while what I bring to the table,
It's the aphrodisiac of power, high earnings, front-bench gurning.
Let me intervene in you while you're willing and I'm able.
Adrian Fry
No 3933 Set by Will Bellenger As Jane Siberry notes in a recent song, "Britney Spears" is an anagram of "Presbyterians". Please could we have some equally inappropriate anagrams?
As many as you like by 8 June. E-mail: comp@newstatesman.co.uk
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