[John Whitworth]

Our heavy hitters were out today (expression, presumably from baseball, overused by our politicians). Bazza won the fiver, Chris O'carrol won, and Frank Osen was mentioned in dispatches.

This week's looks knotty - unless there is a site somewhere full of these.

NO. 2734 mixing it
You are invited to supply anagrams of lines from Shakespearean sonnets (maximum ten entries each). Please email entries, if possible, to lucy@spectator.co.uk by midday on 8 February.

[Roger Slater]

There are indeed many anagram creating sites out there. I've been visiting them lately for a Washington Post contest. But they might bog down under the strain of an entire line at a time, and it's hard to believe there will be many that lend themselves to perfect anagrams. A very mechanical assignment.

Congratulations to the winners and mentions.

[basil ransome-davies]

Agreed, Roger. An arid topic & a woeful choice by Lucy. That won't stop me doing it but it won't be fun.

[John Whitworth]

I've had an IDEA! I'm working on it. But I'm lousy at anagrams.

[Gail White]

Chris is off to a good start this year - I've counted two wins already!

On anagrams, I've never done anything longer than a scrambled word.
So I'm not sure exactly what the contest means - making a new line out of the same words, or what?

[John Whitworth]

No. Making a new line out of the same letters, Gail. It's bloody tricky.


When forty winters shall besiege thy brow

Rent wobbly owl shit in freshwater geyser

I hope the second line is an anagram of the first, though I haven't checked it. Flit on, cheering angel is Lewis Carroll's anagram of Florence Nightingale.

[Chris O'Carroll]

I've been assuming that making an anagram of the line means rearranging all the letters, not just the intact words.

So, for example, "My mistress when she walks treads on the ground" becomes "Mother throws new silk thread, snags messy nude." (I still need to go over that anagram at least one more time to make sure I've used all the right letters and nothing but. And I don't even want to talk about how long it took me to work out that one. Nine more to go. Saints preserve us.)

I crossed with John, I see, and we both have the same take on what Lucy is looking for.

[Susan d.S.]

I shall pass. The anagram generators on the internet have taken the fun out of this exercise. The exception being the one John just posted, it made me burst out laughing:

When forty winters shall besiege thy brow

Rent wobbly owl shit in freshwater geyser

tears in my eyes! That's the way to do it.

[John Whitworth]

Thank you, Susan. Sheepshit, newtshit and toadshit are on the blocks as I speak.

And here they are!


When forty winters shall besiege thy brow

Rent wobbly owl shit in freshwater geyser

And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field

Buy thy fine graded sheep shit, indecent lad.

Thy youth's proud livery, so gazed on now

Ho, young zoo lad, devour syrupy newt shit.

Will be a tottered weed of small worth held.

We tell them toad shit, O lewd dwarf belle.

[Roger Slater]

I'm thinking that this could be called a single poem, though for present purposes it is six entries (each line being an anagram of the title):


Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

I am the scrotum’s amoral sleepyhead.
O hear me, misplaced trashy soul mate!
A pothead stammers lecherously, "I am!"
I am the lousy, mad, complete harasser.
I am a harlot’s homely, desperate scum.
I am the prayerless, custom-made halo.