Dylan Thomas reads TS Eliot NS parody

“As we get older, we do not get any younger”

After the competition page was hijacked from The Week-End Review, “absorbed” by the New Statesman in 1933, parodies have a formed a regular feature of the magazine’s back pages. In 1946, Faber and Faber published an anthology of the best entries, edited by NS literary editor GW Stonier, with illustrations by Nicolas Bentley. In his introduction, Stonier wrote:

It will never do, in this atomic age, to be a wit. Let the witty journalist beware, he is in danger of insulting his readers; the witty politician is a self-confessed enemy of the people; the witty parson – but he vanished long, long ago. To be dull – hugely, incontestably dull – has become a hall-mark of sincerity, and woe to him who tries to improve the occasion. Insect! Anti-democratic! But there are crannies where the nimble-witted lurk, signalling distractedly and indulging a frivolity they daren’t display. Given an excuse, finding the signal returned, they will even publish a little.

A competition page, with its aura of party games, provides such an excuse. The demands are light: an epigram, an anecdote, a letter, a limerick, a parody, verse or prose for an occasion. Light but not necessarily easy, as the would-be competitior discovers…

Perhaps the most notable addition to the anthology is “Chard Whitlow”, written by the poet, translator and dramatist Henry Reed. The poem is sur-titled Mr Eliot’s Sunday Evening Postscript, and will be republished in full next year as part of the New Statesman’s centenary proceedings. However, to tide you over until then, here, reading with all the stolid grace of Mr Eliot himself, is Dylan Thomas, who will celebrate an anniversary of his own next year – having laid in a cemetary in Laugharne, Carmarthenshire, since 1953.

Dylan Thomas, doing what he loved best. Photo: Getty Images.

Philip Maughan is a freelance writer in Berlin and a former Assistant Editor at the New Statesman.

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Are celebrities deliberately messing up their award show performances?

How the "accidental" tumble came to dominate awards season.

The first thing I saw about last night’s Brit awards is that during Katy Perry’s performance of her new single “Chained to the Rhythm” a dancer – dressed as a house – fell off the stage.

This housing crisis is the most meme-able and memorable moment of the entire awards ceremony, but not because it’s anything new. The house follows in the (tumbling) footsteps of Madonna, who in 2015 fell over on the Brits’ stage after a dancer stood on her giant, flowing cape.

If it seems strange that some of the world’s biggest and best known artists are prone to hiring clumsy back-up dancers, it should. Since I’m-so-normal-in-my-$4m-Dior-dress Jennifer Lawrence fell over at the Oscars in 2013, there has been a spate of televised celebrity mishaps.

In 2014, normal-oh-so-normal J Law decided to take another Oscars tumble. In 2015, Perry’s back-up dancer at the Super Bowl, Left Shark, shot to meme fame for its clumsy and out-of-time dance moves. This New Year’s, Mariah Carey gave a self-described “mess” of a performance.

So is this just a coincidence? After all, celebrities have always had live performance mishaps, the most famous being Justin Timberlake exposing Janet Jackson’s breast during the 2004 Super Bowl. But in the late Tens, thanks to social media, mishaps have become the fastest and easiest way to get talked about. After all, when’s the last time anyone on Twitter recommended a mainstream celebrity’s performance because it was “so very touching and good”?

The proof is in the numbers. Left Shark’s dance moves helped 2015 to become the most Tweeted about Super Bowl ever, with numbers dropping dramatically in 2016 (where Coldplay had no mishap other than their continued existence). Tweets and statuses are one thing, of course, and money is another. After her 2015 performance, Perry started selling Left Shark merchandise in her official online store. Mishaps are profitable in more ways than one.

Social media has therefore revolutionised the celebrity mishap, but so too have the phones from which we post our updates. The fact more of us take our smartphones to live shows means that the public can catch mishaps that might traditionally have been brushed under the rug (or cape). It was an audience member, after all, that caught Perry’s falling house on camera.

Short of a shark/house whistle blower, however, there is no definitive proof of this new celebrity conspiracy theory. Yet when it is known that marketers deliberately outrage consumers to drum up publicity, we have to wonder what PR teams wouldn’t do? A small tumble, after all, is a small price to pay to reach new heights. 

Amelia Tait is a technology and digital culture writer at the New Statesman.