Competition - Win a bottle of champagne

No 3604 Set by John Crick

We asked you to assume Orwell was related to the PM. We asked for an extract from 1999 or Millennium Farm in which Blair the Elder satirised Blair the Younger.

Report by Ms de Meaner

A word of warning: too many of you are breaking the word-count rules. £15 to the winners; the bottle goes to D A Prince.

Spencer decided he had had enough of channel-hopping, enough of economists and politicians excited by the burgeoning export trade in electric cattle prods; of hybrid programmes like Who Wants to be a Millionaire while Washing their Dirty Linen in Public? or Police Surgeon on Safari with Delia Smith in Search of Euro-Smut; of endless shots of the Leader, shimmeringly haloed and blessing the crowds of ululating worshippers from the top of the great Millennium Ferris Wheel. More interesting was his copy of the New Millennium Dictionary, delivered that very morning; a leaner, shorter version of the old OED. He scanned the entries with professional interest, being as he was a functionary in the Ministry of Spin (known as Minispin): murdochite - a cultured philanthropist; mandelsonic - having the miraculous capacity to rise from the dead; campbell (verb) - to exercise supreme power, but morosely, without joy; Woodhead - cf Godhead; stakeholder - one no longer in receipt of disability benefit; haguey (Yorkshire dialect) - a loser. Socialism and public service were declared to be obsolete and hubris was described as "no longer a derogatory term when applied to politicians". Ethical, he found, with no great surprise, had been deleted.

Watson Weeks

Winston Smith had had a hard day. First a meeting of the Anti-Junior-Sex League, where Comrade Straw, from Miniluv, had ranted interminably about family values.

Then came the Two Minutes' Hate. As usual, the smirking face of Emmanuel Livingstone, Enemy of the People, flashed on to the giant screen. As he began to accuse Newlab of treachery, uncontrollable exclamations of rage broke out and rose to a frenzy.

Now Winston was back in his cubicle in Records, rewriting back issues of the Times. A message emerged from the pneumatic tube - times 3.11.98 unperson. He looked up the copy of the Times; there on the front page was a large picture of Big Brother accompanied by Mandelson!

Winston set to work. He rewrote the whole story, eliminating all reference to Mandelson. To facilitate the task, he resorted to pure fantasy, the invention of a model Party member, a man without character or faults, who could safely be reported in Big Brother's company. He gave his fabrication a name - Nick Raynsford.

After three hours all was complete. Mandelson had vanished forever from the historical record. Then another message slid from the pneumatic tube - unperson now ununperson. Rewrite quickwise.

Ian Birchall

The animals were stupefied. None of them could understand why Peter, who had been sent away from the farm for breaking the Second Commandment (No New Animal shall touch sleaze) should have come back so quickly.

"It had something to do with a mortgage," Gordon said, shaking his heavy bull's head.

"It was all in the papers," brayed Frank. But his mind was on the ribbons he might win in the next Donkey Derby and so he couldn't remember exactly what "it" was.

Alastair, Tony's Captain of Tactics, heard their puzzled noise. "Animals! Don't you see the cunning plan?" he squealed. "Peter had nothing to do with sleazy money. One of the New Animals helped him find a good sty so that he could work even harder for us. Now Tony wants him to work as hard in the Irish pig-sties as he did on our Great Dome. This is strategy. Peter is clean. He is a good pig. Tony trusts him."

They trooped out to read the Commandments, as they did every morning. "No New Animals shall touch Tory sleaze," read the Second Commandment. So they had been mistaken, and Peter had done nothing wrong. Gordon smiled.

D A Prince

A beautiful new day dawned, just like all the other 900 days since May 1997. Production of futures was up almost 101 per cent and the Chancellor was in a generous mood. That morning he had mailed a cheque to the value of £101 to every citizen. The polls were consistently giving the Leader a 99.999 per cent approval rating. Strenuous efforts were being made by the Lotto-Culture Ministry to identify the .001 per cent who wrongly believed they were unhappy. WebControl in Millbank Centre had come up with the brilliant idea of organising a telemegathon in which the "Unhappies" would be asked a series of questions, such as: (d) Why is our Leader always smiling?; (k) Name three beautiful truths of Blairspeak; (z) What is the Fifth and only True Way? The answers were so simple, they would be autocued in front of the participants.

Citizen Ken stared glumly up at the AC-screen. Another depressing day. The Chamber was empty except for the boom of Big Benn. The screen depicted a confident Leader, hands upraised, smiling. Beside him the People's Choice for Mayor. The polls (from the Ministry for Popularity & Opinion) showed she was scoring over 101 per cent in the latest cyber-vote. There was no way he, a former rate-collector, could defeat a former movie star once filmed on a rug. He peeked at the red-covered book on his lap. If he was found reading The Party Constitution 1984, it would be the Dome for him.

John O'Byrne

No 3607 Set by Leonora Casement

Another go at the "journalistically challenged famous person gets a well-known author to ghost his/her memoirs" comp. Max 200 words by 2 December.

E-mail: comp@newstatesman.co.uk