[basil ransome-davies]

And it certainly tickles me. Was it Isherwood who was sent down from Cambridge for writing exam answers in verse?

[George Simmers]

It tickles me, too. Definitely worth sending to Lucy.

[John Whitworth]

Thank you both. Has Lucy ever asked for a monorhyme? I've got four or five about the place. I hastened to get that done so that I could watch Pietersen bat, and now it's raining at Edgbaston. Humph!

Is that really true about Ishy? Good for him.

[Ann Drysdale]

Was he really? - I know I royally pissed off a couple of tutors at York by concluding my essays in the style of the poet under discussion (part of a one-woman crusade against the rising supremacy of the language of Lit-Crit). I was merely reprimanded.

The essays have long since gone the way of all waffle, but some of the summings-up have appeared in print. Waste not, want not...

[FOsen]

John, that's a winner - one might even say it's Wigglesworthy - perhaps it'll inspire Lucy to declare a monorhyme contest.

Frank

[Don Jones]

This can't be topped, John.

You raised the bar too high!

Don

[basil ransome-davies]

THE DAY OF DOOM
As an advertising copywriter Rufus had taken little interest in eschatology. It seemed inimical to the values of his profession, both far-off and negative. As an unemployed casualty of financial meltdown, he felt differently. His world was now needy and precarious, letting in spirituality through the cracks. He feared being called to account for his paid advocacy of smoking and unhealthy foods. Net-surfing, he discovered a poem, 'The Day of Doom', by a 17th-century puritan divine, Michael Wigglesworth. Milton it wasn't, but it deepened his anxiety. He grew obsessive. His nights were guiltily troubled by fantasies of the Inferno, as Wigglesworth's had been by adolescent wet dreams.
It was a strained, woeful time. But when a partial economic recovery offered him work again, lifting the cloud of Calvinist gloom, Rufus found that he had a novel approach, and a daring new slogan, for selling life assurance.

[John Whitworth]

Bazza, your opening sentence is sheer genius. A fiver says you win.

[basil ransome-davies]

I admit to being proud of it meself. It kick-started the whole thing.

[R. S. Gwynn]

Not quite what Dr. Lucy ordered, but I thought I'd share it anyway.

5/21/11

Darlin’, I’ll be in here crappin’; if the Rapture starts to happen
Please alert me while I perch upon my throne,
For the good and godly people will float higher than the steeple,
And I’d hate to be here sittin’ all alone.

If the Son or Holy Wraith’ll let me wipe I’ll join the faithful
And ascend into the clouds to Kingdom Come;
I’ll be like a dove to handle, and I’ll even join the band, I’ll
Resolutely sound the summons on the drum.

What a sight will be there for us as we sing among the chorus
Of the strong who never heard the heathen call!
They’ll be cryin’ by the carful, and their anguish will be awful;
They’ll deserve it–men and women, babes and all!

We’ll rest on our cloudy pillows, not a’weepin’ like the willows
While the saintly sexton tolls the seventh bell.
You and I shall be quite comfy when the billions of the bumfy
Get the flush that sends ‘em on their way to hell.