[John Whitworth]

Only four winners this week and one of them me. Heh heh! The new competition looks a runner.

No. 2657: Pilgrim’s Progress
You are invited to imagine what merry band Chaucer might bring together if he were writing today (16 lines maximum). Entries should be submitted by email, where possible, to lucy@spectator.co.uk by midday on 21 July.

[George Simmers]

Whenas we left the Tabard, then we found
A strapping ladette, blottoe on ye ground.
The squyer woke her, and with courtesie
Suggested she might join our compagnie,
And so came she upon our pylgrymage,
Yet her religioun was hard to gauge,
Save that we heard her mutter 'Oh sweet Jesus'
Syn that there were namo Bacardi Breezers.
The millere much admired this sturdy wench,
Although hir langage made the shipman blench,
And ye Good Wife of Bath cried out 'That's rude'
When reading wordes on hir rumpe tattooed.
Indeed her manners were not over-nice.
The persoun therefor yeft hir good advice.
He tolled her, swearing is nor big nor clevvere.
To which the wench replied but with 'Whatevvere.'

[John Whitworth]

George, that is very good. Right in the slot as the cricket commentators say. Could be money for you, old son.

[Gail White]

Congratulations, John!
I'll be back on the speccie scene in August - meanwhile, for the next 3 weeks will be anywhere between London and Land's End - so St. George for England!

[Roger Slater]

Excellent, George.

This competition is too hard for me. I confess that I never developed a taste for Chaucer and the exercise doesn't resonate for me at all. Barring an unexpected Chaucerian inspiration, I won't be entering this one.

[Jayne Osborn]

Congratulations on your win, John, and George - excellent. Superb last line.

To save the typing, I think I'll just reiterate what Bob said:

This competition is too hard for me. I confess that I never developed a taste for Chaucer and the exercise doesn't resonate for me at all. Barring an unexpected Chaucerian inspiration, I won't be entering this one.

[FOsen]

Good show, John - George, that one made me laugh - as John has had occasion to say, if there is justice, it deserves a win.

Frank

[George Simmers]

Thanks for the positive feedback. I've now sent my ladette on a pilgrimage to Lucy.

[Marion Shore]

....A YOUTH there was, a merry and a fair,
A backwards baseball cap upon his hair.
Well could he sing and play electric bass,
So comely was the lad of form and face,
He was a favourite of the gentler sex.
....A NERD there was, peering through thick-rimmed specs.
The Internet was verily his turf;
And glady would he browse and glady surf.
....There was also a LEARNED PROFESSOUR,
Who'd passed his days within an ivoury tour.
Well could he quote philosophers long dead,
Though none took any heed of what he said,
And so his words passed by like so much gas.
....An ATHELETE was there, buff, with spandexed ass,
Riding the while upon a mountain bike.
Lord, how we wished that he would take a hike!

[FOsen]

Oure hoost, cleped Simon, sayeth, “Bloody Helle,”
whan that the STRIPPER’s tassle felle,
Quod he, full snyppye, “In a woord,
thy drasty acte’s nat worth a toord!
Get backe to Engelonde’s erse-end, ye woot,
no drap of talent have ye goot!.”
She putt hyr smale foweles in thir cage—
pleynly, she was no Elaine Paige,
but nevyr one to bee beset by doubte,
now in a PRIORY, she’s dryen oute
and taken mastyrre-clense, she’s coole againe,
yngagyd to a SOCCER HOOLIGAN.
Nexte seson, too, another gygge she hath,
whan therre bigynneth, “Real House-Wyves of Bath.”

Great. I had to Google "real housewives - England" to determine that the show isn't even over there . . . . now I need a shower.