[Jayne Osborn]

Huge congratulations this month to John and Martin - lovely entries and well-deserved wins. Two out of three places on the magazine page for the D & A gang is excellent. I haven’t written to complain yet about the paucity of space now given to the poetry comp, but I intend to! If anyone else feels similarly inclined, please do.

Next comp is for a poem about wheelie bins (see separate thread)

Jayne


The Oldie Competition
by Tessa Castro

In Competition no 186 you were invited to write a song for a forthcoming musical on the collapse of Royal Mail, called ‘Last Post’. You entered into the spirit of the thing with worrying gusto. Congratulations to those printed below, each of whom wins £30, with the bonus prize of a Chambers Biographical Dictionary going post-haste to John Whitworth.

(To ‘The Slow Train’, Flanders and Swann)

No letters to send to Appleby Parva or Primrose Hill,
No postcards to scribble to Sawley-on-Ribble or Martin Mill,
No brown paper parcels tied up with string
For Tintagel Castle, Tredegar or Tring.
Our hiking and biking are toast.
It’s the Last Post.
Alas and alack!
There’s no shadow of doubt
That we’re not coming back.
All the money ran out.

No telegrams terse for Merton or Burton or Buttermere,
No postal packets for Drumnadrochit or Durisdeer,
No stamping or franking or sealing wax,
They’ve all been remaindered by email and fax.
There’s nobody here but a ghost.
It’s the Last Post.
John Whitworth


(To Dylan’s ‘The Times They Are A-Changin’ ‘)

Once we sent letters on Basildon Bond
To friends and relations of whom we were fond
And with pen and real ink they all used to respond
Via a system as slow as a snail.
Now refinement is gone and we’ve nothing beyond
Just illiterate texting and email.
Screw the cap on your Quink and your Stephens Blue Black,
For calligraphy’s dead and there’s no going back.
When the man with the little red van gets the sack
There’ll be no more collecting or sending.
And your dog will be left with one less to attack
For the whole postal service is ending.
Martin Parker

(To ‘Battle Hymn of the Republic’)

Our eyes have seen the peril of the ending of the Mail,
We can feel the competition and we’re fairly sure to fail,
But a national institution is the subject of our tale,
The Royal Mail must go on!

Refrain:
Boo to ceaseless innovation,
Boo to piecemeal amputation,
Boo to private exploitation,
The Royal Mail must go on!

We will organise petitions, we will boycott TNT,
We will sabotage your email, we will give you stamps for free,
You may cheer for market forces, we will beg to disagree,
The Royal Mail must go on!

There were ponies, there were post vans, there will very soon be drones,
There were letters, there were postcards, now we’re all on bleeping phones,
But we’re on a road to nowhere, we can feel it in our bones,
The Royal Mail must go on!
Sheena Phillips