[John Whitworth]

Nope, Gail. When the Oldie pops through my door then I will have them. And you will have them, I promise.

[Roger Slater]

Thanks, John, though I for one would hate to read that novel. I did expand my last one with another alphabet sequence. Since it doesn't go at the end, but in the middle, I'll paste the whole thing here instead of just the new part:

April beckoned. Cold December embraced February's glinting hard ice. January kept lashing my neighbor's open prairies, quashing rosy sunshine. Trembling underground, vibrating worlds x-rayed yesterday's zealotry as brief candles dappled emergent flame gently housed in juniper kissed leaves my nose overlooked.

Philosophical questions remain. Should the universe vanish? Will Xanadu yield zero? As Bach composed delicate, elaborate fugues, grand hosannas intricately joined, knit luminous mystical new oratorios praising quintessential rainbows seen through undiscovered visions: warbling xylophones, yodeling zithers.

All becomes clear, dreams endure forever. God's hand is justice, knowledge leaping madly near or paradoxically quiescent. Remember. Sometimes time unravels virtue. Woah, Xeno! You're zooming!

[John Whitworth]

THAT is a winner!

And now my own. It lacks Rogers poetry but it IS 156 words:

From the Biographical Dictionary

Alias Baron Corvo: drama-queen, excessively fey, gay hedonist, incessant jew-baiter, kissed lads, mostly not over-age, papistical, quintessentially racist, sexist, talented under-achieving, vestment-loving, worshipping Xtian yet zoilean.
Ann Boleyn: caught debonair eager fun-loving glamorous Henry’s interest; jolly, kittenish, loving mistress nightly ousted prudent queen; raunchy sex turned ugly; violence was x-rated, yielding zilch.
Anthony Burgess (creative doppelganger Enderby): enigmatic, fierce godbotherer, heteronominal indicative, Joseph Kell; learned, musicianly novelist often paradoxical, quirky, rich sometime tax-exile, unequalled, witty, xenoglossic yea-saying zarathustra.
Aphra Behn: Canterbury domiciled espionage factotum; great historical interest; jaunty; kinky lovers; major novel Orinooko, plays; quondam resident Surinam; titillating, urbane, Virginia Woolf xxxed, yeasty; zingy.
Arthur Bottomley: cabinet deadleg eventually found government hopelessly intricate; jellylike, Kremlin loving minister never overestimated; Privy-counsellor; querulous, rather second-rate Trade Unionist, very wet, xenophoran yob; zestless.
Avaricious Bigot: crass, demented, egregious, fat gobsh*te; hates immigrants, jews, kikes, lascars, muslims, negroes, orientals, parsees, queers; rude sod to underlings; vehemently woos xenophobic young zealots.

Even Brits have forgotten Arthur Bottomley!

[Roger Slater]

Thanks, JW. Pretty impressive, six rounds of ABC. I like it. Though I don't get many of the references, I'll take them on faith, but I'm guessing Lucy will find them clear enough and you'll get many points for going the distance.

Here's one more, though it only cycles twice:

As benign cardiograms develop earthshaking fibrillations, grave hearts issue jolts karyotypically leaden. Man needs only pulse, quick, racing. Still, the universe vanishes. With x-rays, you're zilch, a burned candle, done, expired, forgotten. Gather healthy impulses, justify knowledge, lest mindfulness never overcome perdition's questionable rendezvous. Said Time, underneath vincible worlds, "Xenophobe, you're zero."

[Maryann Corbett]

John, I am all admiration, as the very hardest thing is to make these critters make sense. You may have mistyped--is Anthony Burgess missing his "C" entry?

[John Whitworth]

Thank you, Maryann. I shall have to fix that.

I have!

[Marion Shore]

It's not clear to me, do you have to repeat the alphabet after finishing one time through. If that's the case, I just wasted a whole afternoon.


Another bright clear day. Esposito feels gloomy. He's investigating Jackson K. LaMonte's murder -- nabob, operator, playboy -- questioning rivals, sweethearts, teammates. UV, ViCap, weapons, X-rays, yadayadayada…Zip.

[Roger Slater]

Marion, I don't think it's required, but you do leave me wanting to know what happens next, so how about it?

[John Whitworth]

You don't have to, Marion. But since Lucy says you have a 156 word limit, which is 6 x 26, then sad obsessives like Roger and me (and probably Bazza and Bill in their caves in the woods) are already concocting long pieces of prose. Do you suppose this sort of thing is a male preserve - giving your all for something entirely pointless? I mean that would explain football, wouldn't it?

So just keep going for another five afternoons.

[Jayne Osborn]

Well, my feeling is that John's Biographical Dictionary and Bob's 'April beckoned...'
have got it sewn up. Two impressive, excellent entries, guys. I'm sure Lucy will love your Avaricious Bigot, John; that, and Ann Boleyn are the best IMO.

I've seen this done before and, unfortunately, many people's efforts end up being so contrived that all that 'effort' is wasted, sadly. You simply MUST be able to read the passage whilst barely even noticing that it's written in A-Z fashion; that's where the real skill becomes apparent.