In Competition No. 2916 you were invited to recast a well-known scene from literature to reflect the fact that its author has signed a sponsorship deal with a well-known brand.
The Mad Hatter’s Tea Party provided the perfect platform for Mr Kipling; Sydney Carton’s execution was the ideal shop window for Sabatier and Brooks of Sheffield; and Lady Macbeth cracked open the Wet Ones. The winners take £25 each. George Simmers pockets the bonus fiver.
She watched Mellors take the kettle from the stove and warm the pot. He was a small man, yet wiry, and strong, and opened a packet of McVitie’s chocolate digestives with one forceful gesture. With infinite delicacy, he then offered the biscuits as they were, in the packet. Sir Clifford had never offered her biscuits except on a plate, and with him she had never tasted more than the thin delight of a Bath Oliver. He saw her shyness.
‘Tek it from t’packet, lass. ’Tis the natural way.’
Daringly, her fingers touched the topmost biscuit. They explored its ridged yet smooth chocolate surface, and grasped it. Then she raised it to her lips.
‘That’s it. Tha does it rightly. And tomorrow I’ll be getting a pack of the plain chocolate variety.’
Connie reddened. This was a man who could see to the depths of her most secret wishes.
George Simmers
Last night I dreamed I went to Manderley again. I stood by the iron gate leading to the drive, and for a while I could not enter, for the way was barred to me.It was not a happy dream. The place I loved most, now ruined and forlorn, had become the reminder of a history that could now only cause me anguish. I thought of Max, of how suffering and shame had unlocked his soul, of Mrs Danvers, with her cruel, underhand ways, of the ever-present ghost of Rebecca.
And I, what had I done? A fish out of water among the gentry, I had been intimidated even by a servant, too humble to assert myself. I should have been the chatelaine, proud and upstanding. If only I’d had the kind of public self-confidence that Boots’ range of modern cosmetics can help a shy woman acquire.
Basil Ransome-Davies
To begin at the beginning:It is spring, moonless night in the small town, starless and bible-black, and time silent by the slow, black, crowblack, Rolex-rocking sea. Young girls lie bedded soft, their watches cradled with wedding rings in their dreams. The boys are dreaming wicked, or of their Rolex-passing roistering or of the jolly-Rolexed sea. You can hear the click of silent seconds as each Rolex rolls on into the deeply-sleeping sleep of the huddled town, all un-wristed now, adrift from its ticking time of day.
Only you can see Time rolling, Rolexing away, down the nightly velvet of the rolling streets, down to the harbour, down to the Rolex-rollicking to and fro of the tide.
Time passes. Listen. Time passes.
Only you can hear its tuned movements deep in the Rolex-heart, rocking the dreams of watch and watcher, rich and richer.
D.A. Prince
Upstairs they found a room that was quite empty except for a wardrobe. The others left, but Lucy stayed to admire its elegant, stripped-pine look, which proclaimed Scandinavian origin and which looked far more expensive than it in fact was. Lucy tried the door, which operated very smoothly, and climbed inside. She pushed through some coats but could not find the back. However, she knew that self-assembly units were easy to put together and that it could be finished later. Suddenly she found herself in a snowy pine forest, which looked and felt Swedish. She saw a strange little person with horns and goat’s feet. It was a faun, and he was carrying an umbrella and a number of flat-pack parcels, every one emblazoned with the mysterious rune I-K-E-A.‘I expect I’ll understand that when I’m older,’ thought Lucy. The astonished faun spotted her, and invited her home to tea.
Brian Murdoch
…but they, being heedless, did both fall suddenly into the bog. The name of the slough was Despond. Here, however, there was no problem, for Christian, who was prepared, had brought with him a bar of Lux.PLIABLE: Then said Pliable, Hey! What in Heaven’s name is that?
CHRISTIAN: This is Lux, said Christian, a cleansing bar (Leviticus 14:8). Feel fabulous, do fabulous. Even in the mire, there is no need to feel muddy, or look muddy, for the King has ordained that all men shall be pure of skin that are pure of heart.
PLIABLE: And Pliable furiously said, why should we bother with washing, that have the nous to keep clean?
CHRISTIAN: Sir, said Christian, it cleans and also ministers to the flesh, and withal its lather leaves the fragrance that is goodness (Exodus 30:34-36). For Lux is a bargain that leaves the soul rich (Psalm 24:3-4).
Bill Greenwell
For Nell was dead. Upon her little bed, she lay at rest. Her couch was dressed with winter berries and green leaves, and at its side the box of tissues to which her little hand had stretched again and again. The old man now held her hand at his breast, and, his tears flowing, reached out his own hand to the box; but hesitated, loth to take one. Was it, perhaps, a supermarket’s own brand? — but he saw, white-printed, in cursive script, the familiar name, Kleenex. He took one, pressing it to his cheeks, where it caressed his old skin. Then the schoolmaster bent and kissed her, his own Kleenex absorbing his copious tears, as the earth absorbs the sad rains of winter. ‘If one deliberate wish,’ he said, ‘expressed in solemn terms above this bed, could replace it with another brand, which of us would utter it?’
Roger Rengold
No. 2919: change of direction
You are invited to write a poem that begins with the first line or two lines of a well-known poem but then takes off in a new and unexpected direction (16 lines maximum). Please email entries to lucy@spectator.co.uk by midday on 7 October.
Comments