I totally agree. I've never done it and never shall, but I know it's done. As I said before, if I win I want to take all the credit for myself.

John's way is the best solution. It always pays to be an Honest John! :D

Jayne

Pride

I count myself as one of those
With pedigree and toffee nose
Who scorn the horrid hordes of great
Unwashed who now infest the State,

Rank scourings of an underclass,
All greasy hair and lardy arse,
Whose foul-mouthed kids have filthy names,
Shaz, Maz, Jaz, Spaz, Kaz, Kayleigh, Kaimes,

Stacy, Tracy, Taylor, Tyler,
Accents vile and habits viler,
Strangled vowels, glottal stops.
Morals conned from knocking shops.

Ah – what a chasm yawns between
These oafish, larrikin, obscene,
Slow-oozing, boozing bags of pus,
And (God be praised) the likes of us!

Aaarghhh! You mean that by using Nicholas Holbrook, I've been lying and laundering? Oh, the shame! Oh, the degradation! Oh, the cash!

Seriously, though, if I send in more than two entries, I like to think there is at least a hypothetical chance of the others winning.

As John pointed out, the great Martin Fagg is said to have won all the prizes on one occasion. The question is, did he do so under recognized pseudonyms, or did he lie and launder?

And one last footnote. I never met Martin Fagg, but I did meet E. O. Parrott (they were probably the Bill and Basil of their day) at a New Statesman "do" where nibbles were on offer. He seemed, as you would expect, an amusing fellow, but during our conversation I received an almost uninterrupted stream of cake-crumbs in my face ...

The one person I know who had two entries printed in a single contest, as I mentioned, used a pseudonym for the second only at Lucy's request. The pseudonym was not for the purpose of fooling Lucy, but, in effect, fooling readers.

But I'll say it once again. The contest does not publish any "rules" as other contests do. The Washington Post Style Invitational has a full set of rules, including a rule saying that you must use your real name and submit no more than 25 entries, but the Spectator has no such rule that I know of. Why would you take steps to avoid a rule that doesn't exist?

Jayne,

There is a further serious point to be made here.

My own take on it is this: knowing that the postbag is large, it seems greedy to send Lucy loads of poems. Send one or two, as yourself, and opt for quality over quantity.

The problem is that the author's estimation of his "best" pieces is not necessarily going to coincide with Lucy's. Reverting once again to my own experience, it has happened that I have won with what I thought to be only my third-best entry - if I'd limited myself to what I considered to be the two best, I'd have ended up with nothing.

And another point is this: if it so happens that one week you have written six entries that are more amusing than all the entries submitted by others (OK, it's unlikely, but let's assume it for the sake of argument), then it's in everybody's interest - the general readership's as well as the author's - for them to be the ones that appear in print.

I don't think it's "greedy" for a writer of humourous verse or prose to want to amuse as many people as possible with as many pieces as possible, even if you can't amuse all of the people all of the time.

Ah yes. The latterday Eric was a great splutterer. And since he was deaf as a wossname you had to get close to dialogue with him, which kept you in range.

The thing is, Brian, you've now forced me to admit the truth - I'm just green with envy of all of you 'greedy' people, because I usually only come up with a couple of entries! :rolleyes:

I know what you mean, though - I've sometimes won with what I thought was the weaker of two poems, but hey, who are we to argue? A win is a win! ;)

Jayne

How great to have met Mr Parrott - I love his books!

I've written an entry per sin
but only one's stirring within,
for all have their seed
in just one sin, greed,
and the rest are just there for the win.

Sorry, Pedro, I disagree:

It’s greed that brings the necessary money,
And envying others keeps me on my toes,
While gluttony’s required to keep my strength up
When meeting some young lovely English rose;
Sloth takes the form of staying in the bedroom
(I take no pride in cleaning, hence the dust);
My wrath and disappointment would destroy me
If I no longer could indulge my lust.

I guess this one doesn't suit the contest:

The sins that are deadly are seven.
Just one, and you're blackballed from heaven!
But I've thought of more!
To these seven, add four!
Come close, and we'll count to eleven!