[Brian Allgar]

That reminds me of the old joke, John, about the competition where the first prize was a week at Butlin's, and the second prize was two weeks at Butlin's.

[George Simmers]

Well, I've had a go (not being able to think of anything remotely original for the magic spell competition):

Islington’s Granita restaurant is the must-visit location for anyone nostalgic for the old days of New Labour. The opportunistic chef there caters for this tourist trade with his special ‘Tony Blair pudding’. When it arrives at your table, you’ll exclaim with joy – it’s so artfully presented, yet informal, without fussiness. Never was a dessert so full of promise. But when you eagerly stick in a spoon, there is nothing but disappointment. The inviting exterior has no real content, but is a glossy shell which quickly deflates, degenerating too soon into a brown mess with a bitter aftertaste. What is more, I’m certain that it was something in the pudding that led me, on leaving the restaurant, into a violent altercation with a passing Iraqi. I insist that I came out the winner, but in the kerfuffle I lost both my dignity and my wallet. I don’t think I shall be ordering this again.

[Jayne Osborn]

I hesitate to describe the ‘Smoked Fish Soufflé’ I ordered last night at the acclaimed Lunar Restaurant.
Where shall I begin…? Their description includes the words ‘light’ and ‘delicious’. The unnamed, and indeterminate, fish smelled as if it had indeed been smoked – perhaps with the aid of forty Benson & Hedges. ‘Light’ could be applied only to the colour of the soufflé, I’m sad to say, and in no way to its texture. In fact, the dish deviated so much from my expectations of this delightful culinary experience that I took my Parker pen and crossed out the word ‘Soufflé’ on my menu.
There certainly won’t be a repetition of my visit to this establishment, which offered much promise but failed to deliver. To sum up: Hesitation, Deviation and (definitely no) Repetition. The Nicholas Parsons Soufflé at The Lunacy Restaurant – give it a miss.

[John Whitworth]

Splendid stuff, both of you, though our foreign brethren and sistren will balk at the magic name of Nicholas Parsons. Do you know the man is EIGHTY?

[Jayne Osborn]

He's actually 89, John!

I love "Just A Minute" but I know quite a few people who won't listen to it because they can't bear Old Nick. I've heard him described as being 'smarmy' which I think is most unfair; he's a marvel to be like he is (and still working!) at nearly ninety.

Jayne

[John Whitworth]

Bloody good for him. That's older than the Queen AND Bruce Forsyth. Puts a spring in your step, doesn't it?

[Ann Drysdale]

Tarte Tatin au Thomas

The crust lay light and easy under the applebits
Upon the tilting plate, delicious as the juice was sweet
The teasing textures mingled, tarry
As time let their tastes combine
Golden as their syrups harmonise,
And honoured among flagons, Calvados, queen of the apple-drowns.
At once having taken time I owned orchards all the trees and leaves
Trickled with pips and blossoms
Down the gulley of a grateful throat.



I have spent more time trying to get this to come up with the proper indentations than I did on the creation of it. I get it perfect in the box, press preview, and they all disappear. As the chefs tell us, presentation is all, but in this case it defeats me utterly. Bugger.

[Brian Allgar]

It sounds very tasty, Ann - but who is Thomas?

[John Whitworth]

Dylan, my dear chap. But even Homer nods.

[Brian Allgar]

Ah, yes, of course. I was thrown by "likening it to a well-known person " in the subject, and was thinking in terms of politicians or "personalities" rather than poets.

Not that I mean to suggest that poets can't also be "personalities", John!