Spectator competition winners; interesting lives made extraordinarily dull

In Competition No. 3293, you were invited to provide an extract from the autobiography of a well-known public figure which manages to make a very interesting life sound extraordinarily dull. I am grateful to Sarah Drury for suggesting this terrific challenge. Honourable mentions, in a modest-sized entry, go to Sir Alec Guinness’s Spam anecdote (Jonathan Taylor), Elon Musk’s account of founding the Boring Company (John O’Byrne) and tales from St Paul’s tent-making days in Tarsus (Revd Richard Coles). The prizewinners below take £25.

The Battle of Rivoli was my twenty-second substantial victory (for my definition of ‘substantial’ see Appendix IV, ‘Definitions’), which puts me one ahead of the duc de Vendôme and only five behind Julius Caesar. I am advised that I killed up to 14,000 of the enemy, many of them with canister shot, with a further 11,000 captured, taking more than 100 guns, numerous horses and other matériel. Leclerc (see Appendix III, ‘People’), with his laconic wit, remarked: ‘That should do it!’ One should never become complacent, but I feel confident that I can extend this chain of victories, even against less naïve opposition, with no small advantage to my personal reputation, indeed, I hear talk of naming a street in Paris after this victory. The weather, meanwhile, is as damp and cold as Lombardy is apt to be at this time of year (Appendix VIII, ‘Weather’).

Frank Upton/Napoleon Bonaparte

My life has been a series of sound investments. Mindful of the need for self-sufficiency, I started in business early, with the dependable, safe operation of mail orders. Moving into retail, I chose a lexically memorable brand name, with an appropriately youthful tone that helped to build a solid customer base. Later, railways dominated my portfolio, and I improved where improvement was needed. I learned from the occasional failed venture, and considered other avenues. The airline industry became a low-risk financial sideline, as I saw profit in helping the passenger experience. Covid inevitably caused downturns, but I managed to train and treat staff credibly. Over time I took an interest in philanthropy, supporting ecologically beneficial, humanitarian projects, and assessed the commercial potential for future means of tourism. While I have a good work ethic, I also enjoy travelling. The recipient of a knighthood, I believe I have done comfortably well.

Janine Beacham/Richard Branson

Did I tell you about when I nearly caught the plague? No? I can assure you, it was more luck than judgment. I was in the middle of scribbling down a couple of sketches – the one about the pie was one of them, I think – when an old noddy popped into the office, and breathed all over me, most foully. Everyone for streets around said he had the plague, the coughing one, that is. But as it happened, he probably didn’t have the plague at all, for I am pretty sure I saw him in the pit at a couple of our performances, years later – the one about mistaken identity, one of them, I cannot recall which. So luckily I did not contract it, and went on to dash off a few more pot-boilers, all in that highfalutin verse they seem to like. Phew. Luckiest moment of my life.

Bill Greenwell/William Shakespeare

As a child I was fascinated by the world around me. The bus depot, the orange SELNEC buses heading to Ashton and Huddersfield, planes landing at Ringway – then stars. To get to sleep, I’d count stars and moons, in alphabetical order: Antares, Betelgeuse, Castor… I was usually asleep by Ganymede but once got as far as Io. I spent my days staring into space. It was calming. After all, for the most part there’s nothing in space. The odd thing falls into a black hole, but most of the time nothing much happens. Living in Oldham, I could relate to this. My thesis was entitled Double Diffraction Dissociation at Large Momentum Transfer, not for the alliteration or because it’s a haiku, but for its focus on total hadronic cross-sections, Regge theory and therefore a pQCD understanding of the pomeron. Like I said, there’s not much to do in Oldham.

David Silverman/Professor Brian Cox

It was, some have said, foolish, arrogant, to challenge the oceans. I was born near Matlock, in landlocked Derbyshire; my parents were teachers not seafarers. Nevertheless, a do-it-yourself retail organisation sponsored my round-the-world expedition aboard Kingfisher I. In February 2005 I broke the solo circumnavigation speed record. This pleased me and I became famous. The previous year, in a catamaran, again single-handedly, I achieved the fastest time from the equator to Cape Horn and back. It was a long journey. I spent many months at sea. Upon my return I was appointed DBE and Hon. Lt.-Com, Royal Navy Reserves. President Nicolas Sarkozy awarded me La Légion d’honneur, which was also nice. These accolades made me proud. In 2003 I founded the Ellen MacArthur Cancer Trust for young people. I do not sail competitively any more.

Mike Morrison/Ellen MacArthur

Not all animals are equally interesting. Many, indeed, verge on the ‘boring’. The nondescript, the inactive, the frankly unphotogenic have taken years of my life and untold miles of film in the days when celluloid was an expensive commodity. The laborious business of filming, the trundling around and safeguarding of expensive equipment – and even more expensive operatives – along with complex and frequently insanitary travel arrangements go largely unrecorded. Scrolling through grainy footage, eager for any quirky movement or sly manoeuvre from the uncooperative animals in remote locations makes poor television, as the desk-bound arbiters of screen time constantly reminded me. So I salvaged what I could, piecing together scraps to suggest that there might be more to Earth than we suspect. I’m sorry no one wanted to film my first real ‘find’ – a previously unknown fossil. The wilds of Leicestershire had much to offer to an impressionable youth.

D.A. Prince/David Attenborough