Spectator competition winners: Let’s get demotivated!

For the latest competition you were invited to supply a demotivational poem. This was your opportunity to come up with a bracing antidote to the worldview peddled by an eye-wateringly lucrative self-help industry that feeds on a mix of insecurity and the aspirational narcissism du jour. You came at the challenge from various angles, but the opening to Tracy Davidson’s entry speaks for many:

It doesn’t matter what you do in life, It’s just a constant loop of pointless shite.

Honourable mentions go to Adrian Fry’s paean to the power of no and to Douglas G. Brown’s 21st-century spin on Longfellow’s ‘Psalm of Life’. The winners, printed below, earn £25 each.

Katie Mallett When you are feeling down, be sure That worse is yet to come, The most that humans can endure Is bound to come to some Which could be you, so should you be Uplifted for a minute, Just dig a hole, six foot by three, Jump in and lie down in it.

The cloud that’s hanging over you Has got no silver lining, You know that you are overdue For trouble, and resigning Yourself to misery is best — Accept that life is crappy. At least you never will be stressed With trying to be happy.

Basil Ransome-Davies Every day is Monday morning. Don’t expect completion, ever, Only hopes that die aborning, Only more futile endeavour.

Entropy is our condition, Alienation just the same. Knowledge, principles, ambition? Counters in a pointless game.

Why speak the words that have been spoken? Language is at best inane. Why repair the thing that’s broken? Broken it will be again.

Everywhere it’s always raining, To the grave like lice we crawl, Truest poetry most feigning. Bollocks is the sum of all.

C. Paul Evans Success is never guaranteed, Says Phil, my friendly lifestyle coach. So, if at first I don’t succeed, I just give up — this new approach Has made me less depressed, says Phil. Now, every time I pay his bill, I compliment my mentor’s skill, And kid myself it’s what I need… When any challenge comes along I try it once, and hope to fail. Believing failure makes me strong, I laugh… But here’s a sorry tale, As pitiful as you may read: My bank account begins to bleed All thanks to Phil’s felonious creed — Too late I realise I’m wrong!

Robert Schechter Sure, I guess, you could go out and climb that mountain peak, and if you trained for years, perhaps you’d reach the goal you seek,

but wouldn’t you enjoy it more to just stay in your chair? After all, though you could win, no one but you would care.

You’d get a trophy for your shelf, a cheap and chintzy prize, and everyone you’d show it to would yawn and roll their eyes.

So take a seat and pour a drink. There’s nothing you need prove. Turn the telly on. Relax. There is no need to move.

W.J. Webster The mission statement’s words are there To make it look as if we care. The principles we hold are just The ones our PR firm discussed. Great teamwork helps us win the game — Or gives you someone else to blame. Do, please, critique the things we do (Graffiti pads are in the loo.) Promotion is the holy grail That spurs you on until you fail. The job that matches all your skills Will be the one some idiot fills. It’s your good work and not the rotten That soon enough will be forgotten.

Frank McDonald You’re worth no more than morning dew; Your life’s all dreams that don’t come true. However hard you try, success Belongs to someone else, not you.

You take two steps along the track And then you must take three steps back; When failure comes don’t be surprised That Fate sought out the thing you lack.

And don’t attempt to change your lot To gain more wealth than you have got. You’ll simply give what you possess To others with a better plot.

You cannot win, so never try. Arrive, and find the spring is dry. But if you’re lucky, you may glimpse What might have been, before you die.

You are invited to submit a scam letter ghostwritten by a well-known author, living or dead (please specify). Please email entries of up to 150 words to lucy@spectator.co.uk by midday on 7 November.