Competition | 19 September 2009

In Competition No. 2613 you were invited to submit a cautionary tale for our times, in the style of Hilaire Belloc, about the consequences of too much time spent texting or on social networking sites.

The grisly fates of Belloc’s creations — Jim, eaten feet upwards by a lion, and Mathilda, burnt to a crisp — both thrill and appal children. I remember being puzzled, though, by a moral universe in which Algernon, who narrowly fails in his attempt to shoot his sister with a loaded rifle, gets off with a light reprimand; while Rebecca, for the relatively innocuous crime of slamming doors, perishes miserably, flattened by a marble bust of Abraham.

In this age of child-centred parenting, Franklin Hide, shaken and hit till it hurt by his uncle, would no doubt be straight on the blower to Childline, but that didn’t stop you inventing some magnificently cruel and hideous comeuppances for 21st-century transgressors. This week’s bonus fiver belongs to D.A. Prince. Her fellow winners, printed below, get £30 each.

Augustus Bloke was mobile-mad:
he texted every friend he had.
With thumbs a-twitch he spent his days
mailing and texting on the ways  
he filled his time. His girlfriend moaned
how he’d proposed to her (he’d phoned!)
and how the only ring he knew
was when a call was coming through.
But still, they fixed a wedding date;
she was on time, but he was late,
on Twitter through their vows till, vexed,
she played his game and sent a text.
Her message (it could be predicted):
It’s over, Gussie; you’re evicted.

Moral:  
If you don’t wish to sleep alone,
put your wife first, and not your phone.
D.A. Prince

Samantha, having learnt to twitter,
Scattered tweets like cyber litter;
Each non-event her life produced
Was posted, suitably reduced,
For all her followers to share
(No matter that they didn’t care)
Until at last her thumb went numb,
Which struck her digitally dumb.