In Competition No. 2504 you were invited to invent nine muses for the 21st century.
It was left to you to decide which form to use, so variety was the order of the day. Some went for straightforward lists; others for verse. D.A. Prince kindly provided her line-up with symbols, but most didn’t. While the lion’s share of entrants had fun coming up with 21st-century names, William Danes-Volkov went out on a limb, sticking to the designations of the original nine but giving them new jobs, more fitting to the modern age.
Bill Greenwell hit the spot with ‘Proactiviope, the muse of business memoranda and blue sky thinking’ as did Michael Saxby’s ‘Portia, the muse of fast motoring’. A commendation goes to Frank McDonald. Here’s a snippet: ‘If dancing delights you Forsythia will call/ and robe you in raiment that’s fit for a ball.’ Champion.
The winners, printed below, net £30 each. Mary Holtby gets £35.
Time passes — and the Muses’ classic range
is somewhat subject to the winds of change.
To Biopicia ousted Clio yields,
bringing new life to History’s barren fields,
while Rotavaria, her bosom-twin,
Proclaims her status as the Muse of Spin.
Where chaste Eminia goes to bed with Art Raucasia belts the lyrics of the heart,
and where Religion sings her special songs
the choir to Polycredita belongs.
Among the Greeks the novel was unknown,
but gay Scrumania claims it as her own.
Since Education now deserves a Muse,
she’s Mutabilia, licensed to confuse.
Melpomene has lost her tragic grace:
brash Plastiflora lives to take her place.
And last, the starry cynosure of men,
divine Ufonia swims into our ken.
Mary Holtby
Diarea: the diarist’s muse: the moving spirit behind those who loose their diaries on to the world.
Wartsnallia: guides biographers through the lower depths of their research.
Thmb: inspires text-messagers to find new ways to disemvowel their language.
Astoltu: helps ghost writers to make a sow’s ear out of a pig’s bladder.
Jana: niece of the god Janus; called on by PR consultants when they want to put their best face forward.
Semirhymis: comforts the writers of song lyrics with the thought that any word will do since it’s unlikely to be heard.
Mamarazza: answers the prayers of celebrity-snappers — the so-called ‘shutter press’ — on dull nights for drunken antics.
Echohoho: shows stand-up comedians how to match their jokes to their audiences’ prejudices.
Adidike: inspirational for sports-shoe designers making barely discernible differences and a logo justify the price tag.
W.J. Webster
Kambelina, muse of Spin: attributes the Wheel of Fortune wobbling on a pile of bound diaries.
Bekamia, muse of Celebrity: attributes a football and oversize sunglasses.
Dimmoka, muse of Makeovers: attributes a large plant-pot surmounting decking.
Caplina, muse of Life-coaching: attributes a crystal pendant and long camera lens.
Nigellerpe, muse of Cooking: a domestic goddess; attributes a bunch of coriander and a cake tin.
Monbiotia, muse of Green Living: attributes a stringed instrument sporting leaves (= harmony with nature) and a (small) carbon footprint.
Thumbellina, muse of Communicability: attributes a thumb and ripe blackberry.
Tesca, muse of Consuming: attributes a plastic carrier bag and plastic (loyalty) card.
Monsoonia, muse of Global Warming: attributes a kagoule and tube of Factor 50.
D.A. Prince
Although their names resemble those of the classical muses their roles differ greatly. Clara preserves prime ministers’ wives with cosmetic gurus and fashion consultants to cover the scars inflicted by feral beasts. Ursula aims to ensure Big Brother celebrity stars are forever remembered and Colleen, liker of language, makes certain that ‘like’ is like never left out of like any sentence. Melanie, belle of the bobbin, produces an endless supply of political spin while Pro-European-Song-Contest Eunice delights us with lasting lyrics and memorable music. Erica, pure as the driven snow, drives smokers out into the cold and tough-on-crime but saintly Teresa winks her sharp, ‘Truvelo’ eye at every errant motorist flashing past. Thelma slowly thaws to keep us ever-mindful of the melting icecaps and finally comes kind, consoling Polly, keen to comfort by reminding us, in troubled times, to put the kettle on.
Alan Millard
Calliope: the muse of communication. Often invoked, but never rings back.
Clio: the muse of car advertisements. A brunette with long legs, who drives through bush fires to a background of mediocre 1960s pop songs.
Eratu: the muse of mistakes. Not recognised by Labour politicians or the Catholic Church.
Euterpe (alt. sp: Eutwerpe): the Muse of EU regulations.
Melopomene: the muse of pop-group comebacks and reunions. Mel B, Mel C and Mel O’Pomene.
Polyhymnia: the muse of the Church of England. Portrayed in stained-glass windows as anything but a white Anglo-Saxon protestant.
Terpsichore: the muse of those who drink paint-stripper, Irn-bru and Matteus Rose. Mixed.
Thalia: the muse of northern England. Invoked in response to accusations of laziness and aggression. ‘Tha Lia!’
Urania: the muse of space travel. A fast-talking white-haired old man with a monocle.
William Danes-Volkov
No. 2507: Seven seas
You are invited to incorporate the following words into a plausible piece of prose: century, carnage, cordial, censure, cataract, clerical, celery. Entries to ‘Competition 2507’ by 9 August or email lucy@spectator.co.uk.
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