[John Whitworth]

I must say that I think the plumber is bound to win.

[George Simmers]

My money's on Frank's Ozymandias.

[Max Goodman]

I'm awful at predicting the winners of these contests, but for my taste we haven't yet topped John's entries or Bob's lime.

>Arms and the man I ping.

I take it, John, that you're confirming "ping" is not in use in Britain?

[George Simmers]

“Had we but world enough and mime
We could create the perfect Hell
For those so arty it’s a crime,”
Said Beelzebub to Azazel.

Said Azazel to Beelzebub:
“Great! That sounds mega-hellish.
We’ll make them feast on virtual grub,
With overstated relish.

“Pretended draughts of unreal ale,
Will not assuage their tedium,
As they waste slowly in the gaol
Of this unhappy medium.

“And all their woes they must express
By waving arms and torso.
With infinite pretentiousness,
Like Marceau, only more so.”

[John Whitworth]

No, sorry Max, it isn't. Unless somebody over here knows better.

[Max Goodman]

Thanks, John.

George, the new one's great. Should it be rearranged/revised so that the brilliant Marceau line ends it? (You probably shouldn't be taking advice from a guy who has never earned a mention in any of these contests.)

[Lance Levens]

My money's on Max's Marceau or Frank's Shelly. But wait--I just re-read George's plumber AND his mime. A plethora of front runners.

[Lance Levens]

Go, Lovely Throws
after E. Waller
(an baseball outfielder in praise of his throwing arm)

Go, lovely throws,
tell him who wants celerity
that now he knows
how old and stiff he seems to be
who’d stretch a double into three,

Or the glib youth that dives
Or claims TY Cobb was too effete:
Though your speed derives
From my tri-ceps-growing steroid cheat,
You’ll nail him by a good two feet.

Wide is the girth
Of lard-ass--who should be retired--
who’s wondering the worth
Of finding out if you’re really wired.
Show your low, straight line, why I was hired,

Then pop in the glove!
Show him and all that you were made
For a far tougher love:
To put in his skipper’s mind a trade
Of him who’s wondrous overpaid.

[George Simmers]

Max - thanks for the suggestion. I think you're right, and shall try some tweaking.

[Roger Slater]

(When We Two Parted -- Byron)

When we two farted
To laughter and cheers,
Who knew what we started
Among our crude peers,
Who, not to be bested,
Ate beans 'cause they knew
That beans, once digested,
Would let them fart too?