New Statesman -- co-authors winners
No 4269
Set by Leonora Casement
We asked you for a co-written novel involving dialogue between two characters, in which each character’s words have been taken on by one of the two (very distinctive) authors; Agatha Christie and Martin Amis, say, or James Joyce and Barbara Cartland.
This week’s winners
Well, a good 50 per cent of you plumped for P G Wodehouse as one of your authors, which was a shame as it gave the entries something of a similar air. However, it has been a pleasure judging this comp as most gave the judges a laugh. Hon menshes to Bill Greenwell (Richmal Crompton and Henry James) and Barry Baldwin (Enid Blyton and Henry Miller). The winners get £25 apiece, with the Tesco vouchers going, in addition, to Chris O’Carroll.
Eric Hill and Dan Brown
“Where’s Spot? Where could he be? Is he behind the door? Is he in the piano?”
“Sophie, don’t you see this is a code? It’s the mystery of the resurrection explained in symbolic language! The dog is asking ‘Where is the body of the risen Lord? Does he live on behind our consciousness or in the life of the devout person: the Pia? No!’”
“Is he in the wardrobe?”
“Aha! The wardrobe – or la garde-robe, in French. So after they cast lots for His clothes, the body was stolen by whoever won the robe – and shipped secretly to France!”
“Try looking in the basket!”
“Try looking in the basket! Don’t you see? A totally contrived anagram! Try looking in the basket means Keira Knightley, Boston T! We must find Mary Magdalene’s descendant, somewhere in the Boston T, or transport system, and warn her before it’s too late . . . !”
David Silverman
Kenneth Grahame and Jane Austen
“Pray, what is your income?” Lady Catherine demanded, fixing the Water Rat with her imperious gaze.
“Oh, we river-bankers hardly give a thought to such things,” the Rat assured her with a friendly air. “The river is so generous to us in every season. Lord! The fun and excitement it gives us, and the riches, too. Plenty of food, and always something fresh and wet to smell.”
“I am astonished,” said her ladyship. “Naturally, there can be no thought of an alliance between our families. No relation of mine, however distant, could pollute the shades of Pemberley by lowering herself to such rusticity as that which you have chosen to embrace.”
“Do you know,” the Rat mused, “you rather remind me of dear old Badger. You’re not so warm and likeable, of course. But that haughty manner does persuade most other creatures to keep their distance, I dare say.”
Chris O’Carroll
Damon Runyon and P G Wodehouse
I am standing outside Mindy’s thinking of nothing in particular, except maybe where my next scratch is coming from, when this guy bounds up and hits me with a big hello.
“I say old bean, what ho, would you care to earn a spot of moolah for standing round for a few minutes? Fact is, I’m meeting my man, Jeeves, here in ten mins and have a tryst with a young lady at one and the same time. So can’t hang around. All you have to do is give him this note; you will recognise him by his bowler. Worth five dollars, what, and I can silently steal away.”
Five minutes later and I am still outside Mindy’s with a finif and this note in my hand, when I realise I don’t know what a bowler is. So I take it on the lam and silently steal away.
Eric Hunter
Raymond Chandler and Enid Blyton
The cabbie was a kid with a face so smooth it might have been planed and varnished. He wore a blue pixie hat with a bell on it. It was that kind of a day.
“A sawbuck if you don’t lose that Buick or let it spot you,” I told him.
“Oh, that’s exciting,” he said. “Are you a ’tec? I’ve never met any ’tecs, only Mr Plod. He’s very wise and wears a uniform.”
“So do the Bay City cops,” I said. “And I wouldn’t take their word that Lincoln was president.”
“Mr Plod is always after Sly and Gobbo. They’re naughty goblins who get up to mischief.”
“You on the hop, kid? Or do the local mob get their names out of the brothers Grimm? And watch that light. Run a red and it’ll be goodnight Vienna.”
“You’re safe with me, mister.”
And funnily enough I believed him.
Basil Ransome-Davies
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