Spectator literary competition No. 2833
This week’s task is a fashionably confessional one. We live in an age of emotional incontinence, where spilling the beans to as many people as possible seems to be all the rage, so let’s have an extract from the teenage diary of a well-known public figure, living or dead. Please email entries of up to 150 words to email@example.com by midday on 29 January.
The most recent competition brought forth an entertaining cast of literary pairings, with gentlemen’s gentlemen, sleuths, teachers and doctors featuring most strongly, but not forgetting, too, a sprinkling of sailors, spies, nannies and ladies of the night.
The standard was high, so well done all round. Frank McDonald, Brian Murdoch, D.A. Prince and Sylvia Fairley were on particularly impressive form. The bonus fiver is Chris O’Carroll’s and the rest take £30 each.
‘Welcome, Silver. Allow me to offer you a glass of wine.’
‘Swab the deck with your blasted wine, Hook. Avast your Etonian airs. Rum or nothing for me.’
‘One is frightfully impressed by your buccaneer authenticity. But surely two battle-scarred seadogs can treat one another with a modicum of gentility.’
‘Don’t be claiming any “battle-scarred” fellowship, matey. A gentleman of fortune who’s lost a leg sailing with Cap’n Flint ain’t likely to be impressed with some toff got his arm shortened by a little boy.’
‘Bad form, Silver, to tax me with the tender years of my nemesis. You fail to take into account the pre-adolescent male’s extraordinary bloodthirstiness.’
‘Oh, I know boys, right enough. When I befriended young Jim, he wished me well even after I’d made off with a cut of the booty. Didn’t join forces with no croc to put the black spot on me.’