Speccie Twelve Days
 

Not a Spherian among the winners of the Two Bridges Competition. I have to say I thought the winning verses were rather negative. They all assumed the view was worse than the one Wordsworth saw and I don't think so. They all assumed modern London is filthier etc etc and I don't think that either.

The next competition I don't understand. Does Lucy want a thirteen line verse starting with the words 'On the twelfth day of Christmas, or does she want thirteen verses starting with the twelfth day and going on to the twenty-fourth day? Or does she really want a new twelve days of Christmas. Any thoughts, Spherians?

NO. 2726: twelve days
You are invited to supply a modern version of the final verse of ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas’ taking as your first line ‘On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love sent to me...’ and continuing for a further twelve. Please email entries, if possible, to lucy@spectator.co.uk by midday on 6 December.

John Beaton got an HM in the 'Two Bridges' comp, John, so it wasn't totally devoid of spherian presence :)
(Well done, John!)

The final verse is the one that counts all the way back from "On the twelfth day..." to "...and a partridge in a pear tree" but by the time you get there it's twelve lines in all, not a further twelve.

Do you think Lucy means 'a further eleven', John? That's the only way I can understand it.

Ah, I get it now!

'On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love sent to me' is line 1.

So what he sent on the twelfth day is line 2, so it does take 'a further 12 lines' to get to the first day.

Oops, we ought to have known better than to question Lucy, methinks :o

Oh, backwards eh. Sorry John for missing you. I hope you were less miserable than the winners.

Is this the kind of thing, do you reckon? You need to sing this one :)

On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love sent to me:
Twelve smelly candles,
Eleven(?) clip-on earrings,
Ten awful jigsaws,
Nine New Look vouchers,
Eight Clacton tea towels,
Seven Smiley key-rings,
Six bras (the wrong size),
Five skim-py thongs,
Four scent-free soaps,
Three CDs,
(Two of which I’ve got) –
and I’m bus-y recycling the lot!

Yes, Jayne, you clever thing you. That's what she meant, obviously.

Twelve Days

On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love sent to me

Twelve dodgy euros,
Eleven bum directives,
Ten ropey windfarms,
Nine carbon credits,
Eight Spanish trawlers,
Seven rumpy-pumpies,
Six little hitlers,
Five MEPs,
Four dodgy stats,
Three fat cats,
Two technocrats,
And a cartload of subsidised Brie.

That is SATIRE. Actually I wouldn't mind the subsidised Brie.

John and Jayne, the premise of my two bridges poem was that you couldn't see anything for smog except gray shapes of people going to work. The last line was "Dull they are of soul who pass indeed." Yup, it was miserable.

John

Miserable or not, John, it hit the spot with Lucy, which is all that matters :D

On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love sent to me:
Twelve televisions,
Eleven CD players,
Ten Breitling watches,
Nine diamond bracelets,
Eight antique tables,
Seven leather jackets,
Six chandeliers,
Five gold rings!
Four fox fur coats,
Three paintings,
Two claret jugs
- and a lock-up address, with a key.

But John, there hasnt been any smog in London since the 1950s. And the river is cleaner than it has ever been. People fish for trout off it. And catch them. London is an extremely clean city. Of course you might not like the high rise buildings. And anybody would hate the arts complex on the South Bank. Horrid. Horrid.

John, I try to check my assertions, even in poems. What say you to this?.

In London a few years ago, I stood on the bridge and visited Tate Modern. The only thing about London that I didn't like was the Swiss Re Gherkin.

It is heart-warming to see these city rivers being rehabilitated. On another recent trip, I watched trout rising on the Kelvin in a park near the middle of Glasgow.

John

John, may we read your HM poem? I don't believe it is miserable!

Here it is, Susan. Judge for yourself:

Upon Westminster Bridge, 2011

You cannot see a thing, there`s so much fog,
Except the traffic jam in which I`m stuck
Behind a fume-emitting diesel truck
Which swathes me in a morning-gown of smog.

I see a double-decker bus behind.
It’s red but in this haze seems charcoal gray,
Slate-eyed, and ominous. On such a day
Even the Eye of London must feel blind.

Who knows what in this netherworld may lurk?
Who knows what beasts the slithering Thames may breed?
Now shapes materializing from the murk
Walk the pavement--Hades inmates, freed,
Or, conversely, commuters going to work.
Dull they are of soul who pass indeeed.

Not at all miserable. Very much enjoyed.

On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love sent to me:
12 dried out bonbons
11 savings coupons
10 colored clothespins
9 dated moleskins
8 plastic key rings
7 oven mittens
6 china kittens
5 tv guides!
4 purple thongs
3 wellies
2 jars of jam
And I’ve banned him from nearing my tree.

On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love sent to me:
12 loaves a rising
11 cakes a baking
10 croissants flaking
9 donuts rolling
8 fritters frying
7 crumpets browning
6 roasties roasting
5 spotted dicks!
4 crème brulees
3 tartlets
2 toasted buns
And my diet is sadly carb-free.

Modern fog in London. Nothing!
When John and I were young there were real London fogs. Like walking through filthy grey porridge. That disgusting taste reaching deep in your lungs. Couldn't see your nose in front of your face, hardly. Lorries looming from nowhere, and lurching on to the pavement at you.
But we were happy then.

Ee, but it were 'ard on t'bairns...

My 3rd version (this is getting addictive!):

On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love sent to me:
Twelve builders building,
Eleven plumbers plumbing,
Ten chippies chipping,
Nine sparkies sparking,
Eight roofers roofing,
Seven tilers tiling,
Six painters painting,
Five plas-ter-ers,
Four window fitters,
Three brickies,
Two apprentices
- and a house built by 77 men.

Oh Jayne, I like that one.

And Susan, I like the crumpets one. Crumpets, crumpet, I have an idea.

On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me:

Twelve Aluma Wallets
Eleven Bacon Genies
Ten Candy Wizards
Nine Do Daddies
Eight Easy Reaches
Seven Forearm Forklifts
Six Grout Aide Markers
Five Hang Rites
Four Inspiration Bands
Three Johnny Carsons
Two Kid Switch Doubles
And a Lateral Thigh Trainer.

http://www.asseenontv.com/

On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me:

A present AS SEEN ON TV!
Two Kid Switch Doubles
Three Johnny Carsons
Four Inspiration Bands
Five Hang Rites
Six Grout Aide Markers
Seven Forearm Forklifts
Eight Easy Reaches
Nine Do Daddies
Ten Candy Wizards
Eleven Bacon Genies
Twelve Aluma Wallets

That link isn't working for me, Sam. I'm getting

You have reached a page that is not available. Click here for previous page

but the 'previous page' link doesn't work either.

I'm intrigued about 'Do Daddies' and 'Kid Switch Doubles' - and most of the above things, actually! :)

Here' 'tis:

http://www.asseenontv.com/

Got it; thanks, Sam. It's too funny for words (and pretty much what I expected).

But you forgot to include 'The Potty Patch'! (My daughter has a new puppy - now I've found the perfect present for her. Heehee :D)

HOW have I managed to live this long without a Bacon Genie, I ask myself? And Bright Feet Lighted Slippers and an Ageless Sleep Pillow are also on my Christmas wish-list!

Sam, this will win or I'll eat my groutinator.

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me:
Twelve cherry brandies
Eleven Margaritas
Ten dry martinis
Nine white wine spritzers
Eight cans of lager
Seven pints of Guinness
Six double whiskies
Five small ports
Four ginger wines
Three whisky sours
Two rum punch
And Rohypnol to make double sure. The bastard.

And so will this. You lot are too damn good.

On the Twelfth Day of Christmas My (Occupying) True Love Sent to Me:

(forgive the unabashed Amer-o-centricism)

Twelve "I Was Stomped in the Face at Davis" DVD's
Eleven Goose-Step Dolls with Voo Doo Pins
Ten Grey Pony-Tailed Protest Provocateurs
Nine U of Cal in your Face Flunkies
Eight Crates of Anti-Mace Mesh
Seven Taped Trotskyite Soliloquies
Six Sound Tracks of Mauled and Moaning Humanity
Five Fibs Favored by The Fissiporous Free Press
Four Puling Poli Sci Majors from Pismo Beach
Three Thrashed and Throttled but Loquacious Victims
Two Titanium Tweezers for Tweeking Cops' Nose Hairs
One Pin the Ears on the Obama-'What Me Worry?' Ass

John, are these ads (or similar ones) seen in England? If so, I may wish for some success from Dame Lucy. But I will arrange the lyrics for the annual English Dept. Christmas party, if I can find 12 good men and women true. It's not quite as bad as singing madrigals, right?