[John Whitworth]

I don't know what to make of this at all. Any ideas what Lucy has in mind?

No. 2772: culinary comparison

You are invited to supply a review of a foodstuff, which might appear in a foodie magazine, likening it to a well-known person, living or dead (150 words max.). Please email entries, wherever possible, to lucy@spectator.co.uk by midday on 7 November.

[basil ransome-davies]

I suppose Jimmy Savile might be a can of worms.

[Brian Allgar]

Or perhaps a spotted dick.

[John Whitworth]

A spotted dick inside a can of worms. Enjoy!

[Adrian Fry]

But he wasn't spotted, was he? Not until it was too late, anyway

[Brian Allgar]

You can usually get an idea of how stimulating a competition is by the number of posts it attracts. (The LitRev "Nonsense verse" has 70).

This one has only three jokes about Jimmy Savile.

I therefore conclude that it is duff.

[Brian Allgar]

Originally Posted by John Whitworth

I don't know what to make of this at all. Any ideas what Lucy has in mind?

Lucy moves in mysterious ways
Her wonders to perform;
I might as well sit this one out
In sunny Benidorm.

[John Whitworth]

T refuse to believe you have ever been to Benidorm, Brian. You'll be telling me you've been to Butlin's next.

[Brian Allgar]

That reminds me of the old joke, John, about the competition where the first prize was a week at Butlin's, and the second prize was two weeks at Butlin's.

[George Simmers]

Well, I've had a go (not being able to think of anything remotely original for the magic spell competition):

Islington’s Granita restaurant is the must-visit location for anyone nostalgic for the old days of New Labour. The opportunistic chef there caters for this tourist trade with his special ‘Tony Blair pudding’. When it arrives at your table, you’ll exclaim with joy – it’s so artfully presented, yet informal, without fussiness. Never was a dessert so full of promise. But when you eagerly stick in a spoon, there is nothing but disappointment. The inviting exterior has no real content, but is a glossy shell which quickly deflates, degenerating too soon into a brown mess with a bitter aftertaste. What is more, I’m certain that it was something in the pudding that led me, on leaving the restaurant, into a violent altercation with a passing Iraqi. I insist that I came out the winner, but in the kerfuffle I lost both my dignity and my wallet. I don’t think I shall be ordering this again.