No. 2530: Show me the child
You are invited to submit an extract from the school report of a well-known public figure, past or present (150 words maximum). Entries to ‘Competition 2530’ by 31 January or email lucy@spectator.co.uk.
In Competition No. 2527 you were invited to submit an extract from a Christmas round robin sent by a well-known historical figure.
Dr Hugh de Glanville and Mrs E. Emerk pulled me up on the use of ‘round robin’ to mean a circular letter but my edition of Chambers allows it, as does Wikipedia, which is not everyone’s idea of an authoritative source.
These annual exercises in self-aggrandisement tend to be a nauseating blend of boasts, bad jokes, inappropriate intimacies and trivial details, plus a liberal sprinkling of exclamation marks. They transform their authors, who are perfectly nice for the rest of the year, into self-regarding braggarts or whingeing bores. For all their faults, though, seasonal round robins are hilarious and oddly compelling — and they often have a whiff of desperation that is unintentionally touching. There are some fine examples in Simon Hoggart’s The Christmas Letters: The Ultimate Collection of Round Robin Letters, which gave me the idea for the comp., and the standard of the entry was high too.
It’s £30 each for the winners, printed below, while Bill Greenwell nets the bonus fiver.
This year we have had our ups and downs, but now we can head off — excuse the pun! — in the right direction. Jane and I were engaged and married in ten days, which is something of a record. It is nice to be legal, and we should have a prince in the New Year. I have been learning the lute, and have reached Grade 3. I have been composing myself — I have written a little tune about our dependence on bread, called ‘Grain Slaves’, but it needs work. I have also merged England and Wales, and banned the Welsh language, although not their culture: Jane and I had a nice slice of eisteddfod the other night. Elizabeth has mastered two new games called dench and blanchett. Mary has been studying fire. Holbein misunderstood my meaning when I said ‘Make me smaller’. Artists! My syphilis is much better. Merry Christmas. Hal.
Bill Greenwell/Henry VIII
Hi, everyone, wherever you are! With us it’s been one of those quietly wonderful years when the blessings just keep coming. No regrets at all about settling here in the country — in fact, looking back it was a simply brilliant move to make. Of course it was a wrench leaving our first place (that garden!) but it’s so much safer here, especially for the kids. And they’re coming on so well — just the brightest, lovingest, caringest boys you could meet. Adam’s delighted that Cain looks like following him into the agro-business on the arable side while Abel’s an absolute natural with livestock. Actually they both got awards at the East of Eden Show — Abel a splendid rosette as Young Shepherd of the Year and Cain a Commended for his ‘steady tillage’. One very proud Mum and Dad as you can imagine! Now for more of the same in the New Year…
W.J. Webster/Eve
For the sin of feasting your eyes upon a Christmas card and reading the vainglorious missive therein, you are under arrest. That said, what a year it has been for the Cromwells. Our daughter was married and how lovely she looked in black although the hussy insisted upon a brazen white collar. We were surprised by her choice of Ireland for the honeymoon so Oliver, over-Protector father that he is, went there first to make sure everything was suppressed to perfection. He much approved of the local no-frills transport RyanChair. Still, no rest for the Puritan(!). Poor Ollie was off next to Scotland. What a hit he was in Edinburgh despite the locals hoping he’d die on his ’orse. At least we think they said ’orse(!). Amazingly, Oliver, ahead of his time as ever, has taken up rugby. He wanted King Charles to play in the front row and so has arranged for him to be a loose head …a very loose head(!). He’s been terribly busy in Parliament, and must be losing weight because he says that any day now he’ll be rid of that Rump. Richard is turning out to be the graven image of his father so we are commanded not to worship him. We all had a very quiet May Day thanks to Ollie. No doubt when he goes, the country will be over-run with Poles.
John Samson/Oliver Cromwell
Another crazy year, the big news being I got married!!! Archduchess Marie Louise of Austria, actually. I couldn’t get to the wedding, but gather it went OK. Oops! Forgot to say I divorced Josephine first — sad, but it was best for everyone. My siblings continue to prosper in their chosen vocations — Jerome still King of Westphalia, Joseph promoted to King of Spain, leaving Naples vacant, which luckily Caroline’s husband could fill. Louis (Holland) had a little setback, so I had to annex it. I was so busy at work, banging about between Poland and Spain, that holidays took a back seat, but I managed a short break on the Baltic and picked up a few souvenirs — Hamburg & Lubeck mainly. Hoping to take in Moscow next year. Josephine meanwhile wins prizes for her roses. Retirement, eh? I still fancy a little island in the Med. Someday, perhaps….
Noel Petty/Napoleon
You’ll be pleased to know that life goals are panning out very satisfactorily. We’ve now got the bit of Czechoslovakia we didn’t get last year, plus half of Poland. We’re at war with Britain and France but you wouldn’t know it, the scaredy-cats. Eva does her jigsaws as usual — she’s up to 200 pieces now — and she won a prize for her flower-arranging (was Frau Goebbels jealous!). Heinrich came a cropper with the chicken farm (not to anyone’s surprise!) but he’s happy with a smart uniform, while Hermann — well, Hermann is Hermann, enough said. I have promised Eva I will wear my lederhosen when we (unlike the ‘chosen race’!) sit down to our Xmas dinner. It’s not always fun being a fascist dictator but it’s good to know you’ve got a few things right. And, who knows — next year maybe I’ll be writing to you from the Kremlin!
G.M. Davis/Hitler
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