Speccie Against the Grain
 

Perhaps surprisingly, none of us managed a win this week. Congratulations to Walter Ancarrow for an hon mensh. Looking at the winners, he said I hope not sourly, I can't help it being borne in on me how difficult this is, and what genius Carroll had.

Onward and upward. This competition looks good. I'm thinking of stuff already. Brad Pitt? The Grand Canyon?

NO. 2717: against the grain

You are invited to supply a poem expressing distaste for something or someone widely considered to be beautiful (16 lines maximum). Please email entries, if possible, to lucy@spectator.co.uk by midday on 5 October.

Florence? Marianne Faithfull?

The Sydney Opera House, Joan Collins (always looked vaguely like a rodent).

The Mona Lisa. Hugely overrated.

SUNRISE, SUNSET

Sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset.
The same old sun, the same old sky.
My God! How tacky can you get?
They're beautiful, you say? But why?

Honestly, they take your breath?
I simply can't believe that's true.
You must know they've been done to death?
You're in a rut. Find something new.

If there had been one sunrise, tops,
and just one sunset, maybe then . . . .
But sunrise/sunset never stops.
They've been the same since God knows when.

So stop your gazing at the sky
to watch the journey of the sun.
Find something else to make you sigh.
This sunrise/sunset crap's been done.

George Clooney


George Clooney, George Clooney
an arriviste and looney,
as ugly as an ugly spud,
a kind of scrunched up cabbage-patch, a dud.

George Clooney, George Clooney,
so smiley and so puny,
a walking, talking nincompoop,
he says he’s on the left (he’s not..) the dupe.

George Clooney, George Clooney,
not a patch on Wayne Rooney,
now theres’ a hunk of primetime drek.
The one I really fancy though, is Shrek.

joanie
 

She always reminds me of a partially deflated sex doll (she is, I believe, about 90% prosthetic these days).

A hunk of primetime drek! I'd often wondered what Wayne Rooney was.

Dom Perignon,
You poison my flute,
Your bubbles cause gas
And you're bitter to boot.

May your swill never journey
Between my two lips.
You're not even worthy
Of christening ships.

By far the worst beverage
That I've ever known,
Liquefied garbage,
Dom Perignon.

I actually like Dom Perignon well enough (see above), just as I rather enjoyed Downton Abbey, notwithstanding what follows:

At the risk it could make me sound crabby,
I confess I can't stand Downton Abbey.
The upstairs? Too grand,
Yet it's dreary and bland,
While the downstairs is crowded and shabby.