I know that this competition is long gone and everyone has moved on to fresh woods, but here are a couple of pieces that ended up in Losers' Corner (although the politically correct might prefer to call it "Non-winners' Corner) that may still amuse.
A RIGHT ROYAL COOK-UP
It was the day that King Dagobert V was to be crowned.
The royal carriage was drawn by four strapping mayors, and a splendid sight it was, except for the steaming heaps of dung that the mayors deposited along the route.
The Archbishop himself was responsable for the great mess in the cathedral. The music had been commissioned from an extinguished composter, and was performed by his vile consort. The organ volunteer was magnificent; everyone was transplanted with delight.
Food and drink were free throughout the day. Stands had been set up along the high street where fat, juicy burghers sizzled on the grill; wine was poured from enormous ewes, and ale flowed from foaming bitchers. Everything was served in large bowels filled to overflowing, and the costivities were unending. Small stools were provided for the elderly.
That night, there was dancing in the streets to celebrate the King’s coronary.
FLORAL DERANGEMENTS
She was one of those girls who put one irresistibly in mind of spring flowers. Her skin was the shade and texture of a chameleon; her scent was evocative of mongolia, or perhaps listeria; her teeth were as white as nosedrops; her smile had the infectious glow of a uranium-filled rockery; her ears were as prettily formed as two little pedals; her long hair was as flaccid as a Viking; her eyes were the colour of scabies, and were complemented by her dress, the violent blue of perished winkles. When she finally stood up to leave, I saw that her body had the fragile delicacy of the artillery, while her bearing was as modest and unselfconscious as a narcissist. As she walked out of the café and out of my life, my gaze lingered on her retreating figure. Truly, she possessed all the sensuous appeal of a blooming rosary.
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Hybrid Mode
