Competition 3399 called for a traditional bedtime story updated for the 21st century.We’re tight on space, so I’ll pause just to give a special mention to Ross Haggart before awarding the £25 vouchers to those below.
‘The sky is falling!’ cried Chicken-Licken. Ducky-Lucky, thinking this might be fake news, waddled off to do some fact-checking. But Henny-Penny had reliable information from Humpy-Trumpy and Q-Anonny on ticky-tocky that Crooked Hillary-Clillary, helped by five gee-gees all the way from China, was planning to bring down the sky, in order to distract from her other naughty conspiracies. Goosey-Loosey was very kind. She felt that Chicken-Licken needed help. ‘How are you really?’ she asked him a hundred times. She thought he was ‘catastrophising’ due to unresolved emotional issues and suggested to him a course of mindfulness and Ceeby-Teeby. Turkey-Lurkey blamed climate change (which Henny-Penny told him was a big porky pie). The King blamed the previous king for leaving them with a huge 22 million miles wide black hole, into which the sky was falling. Clever Holey-Moley said nothing but ran and dug for cover – just in time.
David Silverman
Once upon a time there were three little property developers, whose mother sent them out into the world to seek their fortune. The first little developer built his house with straw – but the Big Bad Council huffed, and it puffed, and it said that straw failed the fire safety regulations, so he went bust. The second little developer built his house from sticks – but the Big Bad Council huffed, and it puffed, and it prosecuted him for destroying a woodland habitat, so he went to prison. The third little developer built his house from nasty cheap bricks. While the Big Bad Council was huffing and puffing away, up rode the brave knight Sir Keir and said ‘No one votes Labour here – build what you like!’ So the third little developer built 100,000 brick houses in the greenbelt, became a millionaire Labour donor and lived very happily ever after.
Tom Adam
The Duckling flapped their grey feathers and looked round their playground. You’re Ugly! one of their playmates shouted and the others joined in: Ugly! Ugly!
No, said Duckling, That’s body-shaming, that is. I’m calling you out. They felt hurt but they were a Duckling who knew wrong from right and that the Playleader would help.
When the others had it explained to them that body-shaming was a hate crime, the Duckling felt empowered. Yes! they squawked. But inside, although they had tried to be forgiving and process what had happened, they knew that for the sake of their mental health their future would be elsewhere.
So Duckling set out on their journey in life mindful that they might be called ugly again. But when they came to a swan’s nest they were welcomed warmly and told they were beautiful. Thank you, Duckling said, Being kind makes it a better world.
D.A. Prince
The hare was making fun of the tortoise for being slow and lazy. ‘You were doing WFH before anyone even thought of it,’ he said. ‘And as for quiet quitting, where you’re concerned who could even tell?’ Offended, the tortoise challenged the hare to a race. The hare won by a mile, but the adjudicators felt it was the taking part that counted and awarded both animals a ‘participation medal’.
The hare, finding this intolerable, took the adjudicators to an employment tribunal and eventually received substantial compensation.
The tortoise reacted to this setback by self-identifying as a cheetah and challenging the hare to a rematch. Sadly, this plan also failed. The hare, it emerged, had applied for a Motability grant on the grounds of neurodiversity (‘I’m a March hare, after all,’ he’d explained). He used the grant to acquire a nippy VW Golf and this time won by two miles.
Joseph Houlihan
Generative AI, I’ve this bedtime story idea: please finesse it for success. Elements of story comprise: trio of porcine real estate developers. Their modish ideas about environmentally friendly building materials. A Wolf of above average size and capacity for presenting moral challenge. His incantatory threat and actuation protocol focusing in particular on lupine lung capacity and designed for multiple strands of appetite satiation. Initial success of approach when deployed against straw house and occupant. Subsequent success upon deployment against house of sticks and occupant. Natural anticipation of success prior to engagement with brick house and porcine occupant. Confounding of expectation when bricks prove permeable on account of having been designed to allow ingress and habitation by swifts. Completed story to be delivered to my offspring in vocabulary appropriate to whatever their ages and genders currently are using voice sample from this instruction. Notify responses, if any, to my inbox.
Adrian Fry
Once upon a neurodivergent-affirming time Princess Gwyneth – cursed by a wicked fairy wielding a rogue spindle (violating H&S protocols) – fell into a non-consensual sleep. A century later, Prince Charming (he/they), a TEDx-famous gerontophile with a Level 2 Consent Certificate, smitten with the 116-year-old princess, kissed them awake. Gwyneth sued for boundary violations while the Prince cited their resting ‘yes face’ as implied consent. The case ignited media debates and cancel culture erupted. The Palace, freshly woke, pledged allegiance to Sleep Justice. After restorative co-counselling, and a viral TED-talk (‘Love in the Time of Coma’), Gwyneth launched a podcast (Woke and Woken), sponsored by ethical vaginal-sourced collagen serum. The couple curated an intentional love space, monetised their trauma, and partnered sustainably, but soon after, citing irreconcilable differences, the Princess distanced theirself from the Prince, who was deplatformed. They stated: ‘We’ve consciously uncoupled, with ever-after implications, and I’m developing a mindfulness app.’
Ralph Goldswain
No. 3402: Quirk related
Recently we ran a poem about someone who liked to cook a meal, then drop it on the floor. You’re invited to submit a poem or passage about an unusual predilection (150 words/16 lines max, printable). Please send entries to competition@spectator.co.uk by 28 May.
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