Speccie: A to Z
 

The tongue-twisters competition was indeed very difficult, as Lucy confessed and as at least one Spherian remarked. But when has difficulty got in our way? Bazza and Bill were there so was Robert Schchter with his Sunday name. And there were Martin Parker (who produced my personal favourite as a tongue-twister), Janet Kenny and me. £9 each so we took away £54. Well done us!

The new competition is something I have already tried out, often and often, on people taking courses with me wishing to be poets. Mind you, Lucy asks for the trick to be done SIX times which is well... tricky. Still, I am certain we are up to it.

No. 2654: A to Z
You are invited to submit a piece of lively and plausible prose, the first word beginning with ‘a’, the second with ‘b’, and so on, throughout the alphabet. Then start from ‘a’ again up to a maximum of 156 words. Entries should be submitted by email, where possible, to lucy@spectator.co.uk by midday on 30 June.

Congratulations to Bill, Bazza, Bob, Martin, Janet and John
on your fine tingue-twusters.

Good show, guys.

This new competition is harder than it sounds. Damn that X! Here's my first crack. I got through the alphabet three times, which I hope is sufficient. You're allowed to do it six times, but I don't take it as a requirement:

A baby can devour eggs from German hens. I just know, later means never, or, paradoxically, quickly racing so tremendous underlying velocity whiplashes Xeno. Yes, zooming along but cleverly delaying, energy flagging, gratefully harnassed in Janus's keeping. Less, more, none. Only perfect quiet resonates so triumphantly. Unknown value: why X? Yolk. Zygote. Alpha, but completely done, entirely forgotten, gorgeously hushed in jovial kismet, like memory nearly oblivious. Pretty queen, royal sovereign: travel underneath vanquished worlds. Xeno yielded Zen.

.
Antiquity’s boys could desire elegant, faithful girls. Hats inclined jauntily kindled lust, moreover. Nowadays our pulses quickly race, seeing titillating, undulating Venuses with X-rated, yielding zeniths!
.

---
Whoa, I just realized I only got through the alphabet once! Back to the drawing board.

.
Antiquity’s boys could desire elegant, faithful girls. Hats inclined jauntily kindled lust, moreover. Nowadays our pulses quickly race, seeing titillating, undulating Venuses with X-rated, yielding zeniths. Average bedrooms contain diverse equipment for galloping hormones. Interestingly, jumpsuits keep lethargic men nimble. Others prefer quivering, rambunctious, sex toys, usually varied with xenon -- youthful zeal!
.

Jabber
 

Actual, believable cases did exist from George’s heretofore inglorious junkets. Keen leadership, meeting no opposition, pacified quarrels really seeking to undo valuable warranties, x-ing yields, zapped already before calls demanded eventual free gifts, having indelicately joined KKK leaning members, no one posed questions, resting satisfied to unleash videos with x-rated, young zeros.

Phew!

Ann Boleyn: caught debonair eager fun-loving glamorous Henry’s interest; jolly, kittenish, loving mistress nightly ousted prudent queen; raunchy sex turned ugly; violence was x-rated, yielding zero.
Avaricious Bigot: crass, demented, egregious, fat gobsh*te; hates immigrants, jews, kikes, lascars, muslims, negroes, orientals, parsees, queers; rude sod to underlings; vehemently woos xenophobic young zealots.

I had the idea of a bit of a Biographical Dictionary. There are Anthony Burgess, Algernon Blackwood, Andre Breton, Ambrose Bierce and some others I haven't thought of. Six of them would make Lucy's 156 words maximum. Incidentally, do you think the word gobshite is too much for her chaste ears?

'gorgeously hushed in jovial kismet' pure poetry!

[expanded version a few posts down]

April beckoned. Cold December embraced February's glinting hard ice. January kept lashing my neighbor's open prairies, quashing rosy sunshine. Trembling underground, vibrating worlds x-rayed yesterday's zealotry as brief candles dappled emergent flame gently housed in juniper kissed leaves my nose overlooked.

Philosophical questions remain. Should the universe vanish? Will Xanadu yield zero? All becomes clear, dreams endure forever. God's hand is justice, knowledge leaping madly near or paradoxically quiescent. Remember. Sometimes time unravels virtue. Why, Xeno! You're zooming!

Christ, Roger. You could write a whole novel this way. Amazing!

Congratulations, all!

By the way, any results yet from the Oldie competition for an
updated fairy tale? They always seem to take a-while.

Nope, Gail. When the Oldie pops through my door then I will have them. And you will have them, I promise.

Thanks, John, though I for one would hate to read that novel. I did expand my last one with another alphabet sequence. Since it doesn't go at the end, but in the middle, I'll paste the whole thing here instead of just the new part:

April beckoned. Cold December embraced February's glinting hard ice. January kept lashing my neighbor's open prairies, quashing rosy sunshine. Trembling underground, vibrating worlds x-rayed yesterday's zealotry as brief candles dappled emergent flame gently housed in juniper kissed leaves my nose overlooked.

Philosophical questions remain. Should the universe vanish? Will Xanadu yield zero? As Bach composed delicate, elaborate fugues, grand hosannas intricately joined, knit luminous mystical new oratorios praising quintessential rainbows seen through undiscovered visions: warbling xylophones, yodeling zithers.

All becomes clear, dreams endure forever. God's hand is justice, knowledge leaping madly near or paradoxically quiescent. Remember. Sometimes time unravels virtue. Woah, Xeno! You're zooming!

THAT is a winner!

And now my own. It lacks Rogers poetry but it IS 156 words:

From the Biographical Dictionary

Alias Baron Corvo: drama-queen, excessively fey, gay hedonist, incessant jew-baiter, kissed lads, mostly not over-age, papistical, quintessentially racist, sexist, talented under-achieving, vestment-loving, worshipping Xtian yet zoilean.
Ann Boleyn: caught debonair eager fun-loving glamorous Henry’s interest; jolly, kittenish, loving mistress nightly ousted prudent queen; raunchy sex turned ugly; violence was x-rated, yielding zilch.
Anthony Burgess (creative doppelganger Enderby): enigmatic, fierce godbotherer, heteronominal indicative, Joseph Kell; learned, musicianly novelist often paradoxical, quirky, rich sometime tax-exile, unequalled, witty, xenoglossic yea-saying zarathustra.
Aphra Behn: Canterbury domiciled espionage factotum; great historical interest; jaunty; kinky lovers; major novel Orinooko, plays; quondam resident Surinam; titillating, urbane, Virginia Woolf xxxed, yeasty; zingy.
Arthur Bottomley: cabinet deadleg eventually found government hopelessly intricate; jellylike, Kremlin loving minister never overestimated; Privy-counsellor; querulous, rather second-rate Trade Unionist, very wet, xenophoran yob; zestless.
Avaricious Bigot: crass, demented, egregious, fat gobsh*te; hates immigrants, jews, kikes, lascars, muslims, negroes, orientals, parsees, queers; rude sod to underlings; vehemently woos xenophobic young zealots.

Even Brits have forgotten Arthur Bottomley!

Thanks, JW. Pretty impressive, six rounds of ABC. I like it. Though I don't get many of the references, I'll take them on faith, but I'm guessing Lucy will find them clear enough and you'll get many points for going the distance.

Here's one more, though it only cycles twice:

As benign cardiograms develop earthshaking fibrillations, grave hearts issue jolts karyotypically leaden. Man needs only pulse, quick, racing. Still, the universe vanishes. With x-rays, you're zilch, a burned candle, done, expired, forgotten. Gather healthy impulses, justify knowledge, lest mindfulness never overcome perdition's questionable rendezvous. Said Time, underneath vincible worlds, "Xenophobe, you're zero."

John, I am all admiration, as the very hardest thing is to make these critters make sense. You may have mistyped--is Anthony Burgess missing his "C" entry?

Thank you, Maryann. I shall have to fix that.

I have!

It's not clear to me, do you have to repeat the alphabet after finishing one time through. If that's the case, I just wasted a whole afternoon.


Another bright clear day. Esposito feels gloomy. He's investigating Jackson K. LaMonte's murder -- nabob, operator, playboy -- questioning rivals, sweethearts, teammates. UV, ViCap, weapons, X-rays, yadayadayada…Zip.

Marion, I don't think it's required, but you do leave me wanting to know what happens next, so how about it?

You don't have to, Marion. But since Lucy says you have a 156 word limit, which is 6 x 26, then sad obsessives like Roger and me (and probably Bazza and Bill in their caves in the woods) are already concocting long pieces of prose. Do you suppose this sort of thing is a male preserve - giving your all for something entirely pointless? I mean that would explain football, wouldn't it?

So just keep going for another five afternoons.

Well, my feeling is that John's Biographical Dictionary and Bob's 'April beckoned...'
have got it sewn up. Two impressive, excellent entries, guys. I'm sure Lucy will love your Avaricious Bigot, John; that, and Ann Boleyn are the best IMO.

I've seen this done before and, unfortunately, many people's efforts end up being so contrived that all that 'effort' is wasted, sadly. You simply MUST be able to read the passage whilst barely even noticing that it's written in A-Z fashion; that's where the real skill becomes apparent.

But Marion is off to a great start. It is perfectly coherent and sensible. My own had to resort to pseudo-poetic babble to obfuscate the fact that it doesn't actually make sense. But the assignment was to sound merely "plausible," which isn't quite the same as making sense.

I might point out to the transatlantic and the transoceanic that Andrew Brons is the SECOND member of the British National Party (a sort of cuddlier Ku Klux Klan) who are Members of the European Parliament, and that the fat one is the OTHER one - also one-eyed like Gordon Brown. Since, unlike Mr Bottomley, Mr Brons is alive, or what passes alive in those of his ilk, I thought better of libelling him by name. Avaricious refers to the fact that though the two of them insisted they would NOT be on the take like pretty well all other MEPs (they are actually both MUCH richer and MUCH more corrupt than our home grown Members of Parliament), once they got there they took the filthy lucre like most other people.

I have no doubt that Americans and Australasians will be amazed and shocked that members of the legislatures of Europe steal so blithely from their own electorates, but such, alas, is the case. Public hanging is my solution.

A British company drilling evilly for gas has inadvertently...

I wonder if I could extend that for 156 words

Now Obama, President, questions...

hum!

.
After becoming Christians, Danes earnestly followed God. Heathenism in Jutish kingdoms lingered, mainly near outer peripheries. Quite recently, silver tinted utility vessels were x-rayed, yielding zinc. Archaeologically, burials could differ: elaborately furnished graves; humble interments; joined kerbstones, lacking more normally ornate passageways. Questionable runestones suggest tensions unresolved – Viking warfare. Xylographic yellow zigzags adorning birchwood containers, deftly excavated, foremost give holy indications; Jesuits kept likewise meandered, noteworthy objects. Preservation quite realistically shifts topographically, ultimately variable with xeric yearly zones.
.

Very nice indeed Petra. This thing becomes an obsession. I've got to 52 words with the oil business. It's X that causes the trouble, isn't it? xeric? I shall look it up.

A British company drilling evilly for gas has inadvertently jiggered, knackered Louisianans, Mexicans. Noble Obama, President, qua rogues sinfully tits up, voices wishes. ‘Xenogamous yahoos zapped American businesses. Clever devils evidently foraged godlessly. Happenstance is justly karma. Let mendacious, nasty oil producers, quite rightly shafted, tell us verily whither x-rated yellowbellies? Zounds! Arsekissing Brits can do essentially fuckall. Ghastly hellhounds! Insolent jackasses!’ Kickbutt lawman now opines poor querimonious ratfinks should tremble. UK’s vicious wimps yelp zoophitically, all bloody craven dirtbags….

That's great, John. Topical, and mostly true.

Ah Roger, I have more! See my previous post.

A bizarre conundrum defeats effete featured guest hosts: imitating judicious, “knowledgeable” loquacity means notably original, pungent questions rarely surface—the “usual victims” won’t xenophobically yell zanyisms.

Alternatively, belligerent commentators debate each fathead, give habitues immense jitters, knit lewd, mean, nasty, overtly physical queries, revile soporific twits, underscore vices, work x-rated, yowl, zing, and bloviate ceaselessly— deflecting earnest, friendly gestures, humorous interruptions, jovial kidding, lighthearted maneuvering, nudges, or pushes.

Questioners’ rude, sarcastic techniques usually vary: wrath, XL yapping, zabernism—all build cacophonous discussions; “emcee facilitators” generate hostile interjections, juicing katzenjammerish, loud mania.

Normal Oiks (“people,” quondam) reject shows talking-up very weary, xanax-yawny, zonked audiences. Blasé current devotees expect far greater hostility in jumpy, kooky, loutish misanthropes. Nix old, polite quaintness!

Research says: “Tuesday: Unhinged Viragoes; Wednesday: Xenomenia! Young, Zaftig Alchoholics! Busty Concubines!” Don’t eff-ing forget: Gaga’s hot (ick, just kidding). Let’s move: no otiose poets quoting Rosetti sonnets— today’s urban viewers want xanthippic, young zealots.

Frank

Great, Frank. But you're missing the last Y.

And John, I now see. Wow!

I'm slipping off the winner page by the minute.

You can't allow that to happen, Roger. Back to your last, cobbler! meanwhile I've done it. 156 words. NOW I stop.

Gulf Wars

A British company drilling evilly for gas has inadvertently jiggered, knackered Louisianans, Mexicans. Noble Obama, President, qua rogues sinfully tits up, voices wishes. ‘Xenomorphic yahoos zapped American businesses. Clever devils evidently foraged godlessly. Happenstance is justly karma. Let mendacious, nasty oil producers, quite rightly shafted, tell us verily whither x-rated yellowbellies? Zounds! Arsekissing Brits can do essentially f*ckall. Godawful hellhounds! Insolent jackasses!’ Kickbutt law man now opines pettifogging, querimonious ratfinks should tremble. UK’s vicious wimpish xenophobes yawp zoophitically, all bloody craven dirtbags. ‘Enervated foreign gits! Hateful, insolent, jesuitical, knavish liars!’ meditates nuggety Obama, ‘Parsimonious queers! Rotten, stinking traitors! Utterly vermiform, whoreson, xylocephalic yobbish zeds! Ah benificent, charismatic, dictatorial, energetic, futuristic giant-slaying heroic idealist! Jack-in-office knowall? Limey-hating, mendacious nebbish? Onanistic, pie-in-the-sky, Quixote? Rubbish! Send the USA victorious! Wise, xenogenetic, youthful, zealous Americans beat carbon, deploy eco friendly, gas hating, ingenious jollyboats. Kosher learning makes navigation oil-less, petrol-free – quinquereme rowboats, schooners, trows, unpollutant vessels, weatherly xebecs, yachts zephyrophiliac...

Thanks, Raj. Whew! Must be the heat and the cupidity.

Best to All,

Frank

Frank, your piece has the stamp of genius. Some of the words I have never seen in my life!

my heart sinks
 

'Another boring comp' is as far as I've got. And it's Plato's cave I live in. Ideal for me.

you asked for it...
 

The ABC Murders

Another bright clear day. Esposito feels gloomy. He's investigating J. K. LaMotte’s murder -- nabob, operator, playboy -- questioning rivals, sweethearts… Tech: UV, ViCAP, weapons, X-rays, yadayadayada…Zip.

“A bella cara donna..." Esterhazy feigns great heartfelt interest. Jansen Krumm loves Mozart, naturally. Opera, particularly. Quiet, Reamer! Soon, though... Utterly voluptuous wild x-rated yeeha! -- ZAM!

Avril Barerro calls. “Damn, Esposito! Fed’s getting hooked into J.K.L.'s murder”--
"Naw!”
“Oriental — Ping, Quing, Ring...?”
"Sir?" Terry Uberman’s voice: “Wu Xi Yang--"
Zap!
"Agent Butthead. Christ!”
Dick. Effin fool'...Goddamn!

Hell! Ingrid Jansen Krumm, lover: missing—nowhere. 'Ozzie' Pulini, Quito Ramirez, stooges; Tessa Underwood Vaughan, wife; 'X-Man' Yygor Zikorski...

Another boring comp dammit! Every f*cking....

Marion has successfully done what I've been unsuccessfully trying to do - a snappy murder mystery. Great job!

I second Orwn. A good idea beautifully carried out.

Every f*cking graduate hurls idiotic jejune kowtowing lackluster maxims, nearly obfuscating parochial quandaries, revealing snobby tiresome ugly virulence with xenophobic yokelish zealotry.

Thanks Orwn and John! I got an HM for a murder mystery type thing a while back. So maybe she'll like this one.