[John Whitworth]

THE NS COMPETITION
N04165
Set by Leonora Casement
We asked you to send in verses glorifying asceticism.

This week's winners
We were amused by Robert Schechter's "I do not laugh, I do not speak. ..I urinate but once a week." The dictates of rhyming here mean early death. We were also amused by Gerard Benson’s description of his situation in a covering email which was clearly a play for the sympathy vote: '"[This comp was] pretty much a naturalf or me as I live on carrot scrapings and apricot kernels, with a little whey." All on the yellow-orange spectrum. We were also rather taken by DrDavid Silverleaf's idea of what asceticism entailed— "When watching telly I'll not slouch potato-like upon the couch"— essentially a straight back! £25 to the winners, £15 to Lisbeth Rake, with the Tesco vouchers going, in addition, to John Whitworth.

Nothing like a hairshlrt

There's nothing quite like a hairshirt
When one's feeling a little too cheerful;
It scratches and keeps one alert,
Contrite, and quite decently tearful.
There's nothing like nursing a welt
Or wearing soft mitts when one's itching
There's nothing like tightening one's belt
Or subsisting on scraps from the kitchen.
And nothing beats flogging oneself,
Then bursting one's blisters like bubbles;
Or taking the Book from the shelf
And reading of Job and his troubles,
For such an ascetic as I
I hope to reach Heaven thereby.
GerardBenson

Farewell to sex

Farewell to sex and drugs and rock'n'roll.
Farewell to every measure of excess.
Austerity is now my happiness,
An unrelenting abstinence my goal.
No more the epicurean who swans
Around the fleshpots of the super-rich,
I disavow the life of sumptuous kitsch,
The epic stellar balls at Elton John's.
The man I used to be was gross and crass.
Now, drinking water from a humble mug,
Resting my carcase on a palliasse,
No longer avid, opulent and smug,
I value self-denial with every breath
And wait with shrinking appetites for death.
Basil Ransome-Davjes

Leave that cash alone

You don't need no flashy motors
You don't need no mobile phones
No plasma TV in the bathroom
Bankers, leave that cash alone
Hey! Bankers! Leave that cash alone!
All that money's just another pain in the arse,
All that money's just another pain in the arse.

You don’t need to claim your bonus -
You don't need to fiddle tax,
You don't need to spit at beggars
Bankers etc

You don't need no Château d'Yquem,
You're too thick to know the taste,
Cheap wine gets you just as plastered
Bankers etc
Ian Birchall

So starveling

Now the desert's growing chiller and I'm freezing on a pillar, an
Address a hundred feet above the ground.
I'm so starveling and ascetic that I'm damn near diabetic.
As a saint I'm just the saintliest around.

When a youth, alas, I lusted after prominently busted,
Shady ladies in diaphanous attire.
But as Simeon Stylites I reject such flighty nighties.
They are passports to the everlasting fire.

My belief burns like a laser; I'm a stranger to the razor
I'm so hairy that I'm scary and I smell.
But my visa says FOR JESUS, and you lewd, licentious geezers,
Mark my words, are on the primrose path to Hell.
John Whitworth

Mortification of the flesh

I'm proud and glad to mortify
My flesh; it helps to fortify
My sense that I'm more virtuous than most.

I gave up sex and alcohol.
I don't do any drugs at all.
You do, so your immortal soul is toast.

I never let my lips touch meat.
I shun both salty treats and sweet,
For pleasure tolls a sinful world's death knell.

I've conquered every appetite.
lam a happy anchorite.
I'll see you (though not join you there) in Hell.
Chris O'Carroll

Trust not lust

Forswear
Gluttony, cupidity,
Frivolity, celebrity
Vanity, profanity
And lust

Embrace
Clarity, simplicity,
Sobriety humility
Charity, austerity
And trust
Lisbeth Rake