Spectator competition winners: ‘It’s no go the continent, it’s no go the Riviera…’ Poems about Thomas Cook

The latest challenge, a mournful nod to the recently defunct 178-year-old travel company, called for poems about Thomas Cook. The firm may have hit the buffers, but many entries featured its eponymous founder’s original offering — railway travel and Temperance tours — which would be just the job in our clean-living, climate change-challenged times. In a large and excellent crop, which had echoes of Keats, Kipling, MacNeice and Thomas Hood, the six below stood out and earn their authors £25.

Basil Ransome-Davies James Cook explored, and met the end Lèse-majesté procures, But Thomas Cook began the trend For organising tours.

He was dynamic, fired with hope, And thus the business boomed, Though nonetheless its moral scope Was tragically foredoomed.

They started out as Temperance jaunts, Those earnest early treks. Now low, disreputable haunts Draw mobs for drink and sex.

That Spanish coast which once for some Was vividly romantic Is foreign-Yahoo playground from Cebère to the Atlantic.

Sylvia Fairley When Thomas laid on special trains for groups who spurned the demon drink he said, ‘there must be greater gains, the world’s my oyster, now I think I’ll take more people for a ride’ — he saw a chance and so he took it, ‘here’s to tourism,’ he cried, then said, ‘don’t book it, Thomas Cook it.’

With happy hols, the profits rose, no hint of hopes that would be dashed, but when old Tom turned up his toes the firm was sold; in time it crashed. Said all the fat cats (getting fatter) ‘stranded passengers who’ve booked, and loyal staff, you scarcely matter, screw you all, your goose is Cooked.’

W.J. Webster Like crocuses the brochures came, A sign of winter’s loosening grip, And starter of the annual game To book ourselves a summer trip. Pictures and words so glossy bright They made a dazzling sunlit scene, A winking promise of delight With nothing dull beneath the sheen. In store, brisk Mandy claimed to know Just what we wanted, worked the phone, And clinched things in a way to show We could not manage on our own. And so we travelled out and stayed In search of little more than sun, With Cook’s our holiday nursemaid, The sort that helps you walk, not run.

Alan Millard I’ve travelled much, at first to serve the Lord Delivering Baptist pamphlets close to home, Then venturing further, called by God to roam, The villages of Derbyshire I toured Till thoughts of touring occupied my brain And, knowing God on strict abstainers smiles, I planned a Temperance Trip, eleven miles, To Loughborough from Leicester on a train; And thus my empire grew in scope and scale. By God’s good grace more travellers chose to book Their annual holidays through Thomas Cook, The name to trust, the firm that could not fail Nor ever would. So, travellers, rest assured, With us you’ll have no reason to complain, We’ll take you off and bring you home again, Since Thomas Cook was founded on the Lord.

Brian Murdoch It’s no go the continent, it’s no go the riviera, We’ve got a blue passport again but it won’t much help the bearer, It’s no go the booze cruise, it’s no go my honey, It’s no go the travel agent, now that Cook’s are up the Swanee.

Old Thomas Cook was a clever chap, we need his resurrection, He’ll take us on holiday again, but in the right direction, And all we want is north-west Wales on a Cook’s tour railway train, Teetotal trips to Conwy or Llandudno in the rain.

We can’t afford the airfares and there’s nowhere we can fly And all Cook’s planes are grounded (though no one is quite sure why), But those teetotal tours by train will suit us really fine, Though even Cook won’t help us when the leaves are on the line.

It’s no go the foreign food, it’s no go my poppet, It’s no go the Costa del, they said we have to stop it, It’s no go the Citroen, VW or Beamer, But Thomas Cook could still take us to Shanklin on a steamer.

Alanna Blake A goodly man there was with fertile brain, Who organised some early trips by train; His bright idea was a great success And many townsfolk found new happiness In travelling together far and wide Led by a trusted, safely temperance guide. He told such tales of many a foreign land That soon there grew a promising demand From pilgrims keen to worship sea and sun, Thus ‘package holidays’ were first begun, And from an altruistic, kindly start Grew up a business, profit at its heart. When Thomas Cook eventually became A company’s, not just a person’s name, The world of commerce proved a faithless place: This project ended with a fall from grace.

Your next challenge is to compose a comically appalling first or final paragraph of the memoir of well-known figure, living or dead. Please email entries of up to 150 words to lucy@spectator.co.uk by midday on 13 November.