[John Whitworth]

Nice one, Sam. You're right about Tiger, I reckon. And you will all be overjoyed to hear I have rejigged my own set of prophecies. I was going to kill off Boris but fivefootone (bless her) found him funny so he stays in.

Forward Thinking

Winter – polar bears are stalking through the streets of Aberdeen.
Scottish Terror blames the English, firebombs Windsor, shoots the Queen.
Her Britannic Majesty restored, our second Good Queen Bess
Leads invading English armies to the walls of Inverness.

Spring – the Caledonian chancer, Brown with all his pirate crew,
Rogues and fools and tarts and gangsters, staggers to his Waterloo.
Rampant UKIP sweeps the country, vows to ban all minarets,
Then to halve the hellish tax on petrol, booze and cigarettes.

Summer – and the doughty English, in their raincoats and galoshes,
Vote to shun the Evil Empire of the Frenchies and the Boches.
At the Oval, an XI of our skilled and stalwart sons
Whacks the Pakistani tourists, wins by seven hundred runs.

Autumn – see our caped crusader, Boris Johnson on his bike,
Rescue four and twenty virgins from a London Spud-U-Like.
Then this Mighty London Mayor, connoisseur of wit and drama,
Flogs the Twenty-Twelve Olympics off to President Obama.

[Duncan Gillies MacLaurin]

2010
will be one big amen
to our lemming-like yen
in the noughties.
Determined to lose,
the new leader we'll choose
will be one more white schmooze
in his forties.
We'll continue to spend
on a war without end,
ever willing to send
reinforcements,
quite prepared to believe
all the things they'll achieve
every time we receive
their endorsements.

[Roger Slater]

2010 PREDICTION

After oh-one, oh-two, oh-three,
oh-four, oh-five, oh-six and then
oh-seven, oh-eight, oh-nine, foresee:
next year will be called oh-ten.

[Jerome Betts]

Cappello's lot won't light up grounds
But make it to the knock-out rounds
Until, in extra time, dog-weary,
They meet the second Hand of Thierry.

Long after spring has been and sprung
The House of Commons will be hung
And Brown and Cameron will beg
That saving grace, the Hand of Clegg.

The roof at Wimbledon will pass
Two weeks shut tight to save the grass
While outside, in the wet and mist,
Umbrellas shield a Hand of Whist.

Test Matches too will be a pain
When shrunk to one day due to rain
And after light is offered - Boo! Hiss! -
Crowds curse the Hand of Duckworth-Lewis.

[John Whitworth]

Initially I took that House of Commons line another way and my eyes lit up. All those gibbets strtetching back almost infinitely! Nice piece though.

[Donna English]

Looking Forward to a Happy New Year!

The earth will tilt far easterly
as China’s coffers fill,
and Kim ll Sung gets heavier,
despite his being ill.
A war will mushroom rapidly
across the Middle East
as bold Iran completes its plan
to leaven bread with yeast.
And Southeast Asia cultivates
a fatal strain of flu
that hops a plane in Singapore
and comes to visit you.

[Roger Slater]

PREDICTIONS FOR 2010

A new consensus will be found
and fences will be mended
as enemies find common ground
and war, at last, is ended.

The world will hold a plebiscite.
Uanimously carried:
a law declaring it a right
for gay folks to be married.

Pollution will be purged from air,
from water, plants and earth.
The bald will grow back all their hair.
The barren will give birth.

Peace and love and art and song
and charity and cheer
are on their way, unless I'm wrong.
It should be quite a year.

[Donna English]

Nice one, Roger. Fun stuff, I really hope yours comes to pass!

Cheers!
Donna

[John Whitworth]

Peace and love and art and song? No. We had that. Chap called Manson.

[Roger Slater]

So maybe you'd prefer my alternate final line:

Oh wait, that was last year!