In Competition No. 2715 you were invited to condense the plot of a well-known novel into 16 lines or fewer.
In the interest of making space for the winners, I will follow your lead and keep it brief. Honourable mentions to G. McIlraith, Robert Schechter and Michael Grosvenor Myer, who pulled off the impressive feat of boiling down Moby-Dick to four lines.
The prizewinners below are rewarded with £25 and the bonus fiver flutters into the lap of Alan Millard.
Bright bonnie Connie, though less bonnie latterly,
Marries a knight and becomes Lady Chatterley.
Clifford, her spouse, tries his best to appease her
But, being defective below, fails to please her.
Michaelis, a playwright, attempts to relieve her
Though, sadly, his efforts serve only to grieve her
When into the frame springs the frankest of fellers
Who’s surly but burly, the gamekeeper — Mellors.
Nothing he does or reveals to her frights her,
Indeed what she sees of him simply delights her
Till, finding herself in the family way,
She pops off to Venice in dire dismay.
The pair, being married, must file for divorce
But their partners object, which is par for the
And thus the tale ends with them stuck in a rut
Both rueing their pranks in that infamous hut!
Mr Harding, gently drowsing
Over Hiram’s sheltered housing,
In his daughters took delight
Played the cello morn and night.
When the Warden’s worthiness
Was questioned by the gutter Press,
Saint-like, he resigned. His loss
Made Archdeacon Grantley cross.
Barchester spared little pity;
Mrs Proudie ran the city.
Mr Harding, dear old fellow,
Quietly went back to his cello.
Clarissa Dalloway, slim, pale, in blue,
was sad about the war but glad it stopped.
She thought of other men whom once she knew,
and planned a formal party as she shopped.
Less powerful people lived their parallel
unhappy lives, and passed her in the street.