[John Whitworth]

It was not. I can assure you of this, Nigel, since I suggested it, to counter a certain amount of xenophobia which seems to be growing, though not in the Spectator particularly. Scots, if I may say so, are often parochial and xenophobic, though not you I hasten to add. But I grew up in Edinburgh as a English boy, and things seem to have got no better lately. Lucy is not a sneering sort of a person, though I wish she would choose my stuff more often. Nor have I noticed sneering examples here.

[Nigel Mace]

Delighted to accept your assurance on this John. As to Scotland I cannot recognise the place of which you speak. Parochial attitudes to fellow Scots ('I kent your faither' etc.) are still marked in some parts of Scottish society but this is the very opposite of a xenophobic culture - and I speak as one who grew up sounding like an English toff and going to school in the Gorbals. Recent developments point in exactly the opposite direction to such sentiment. Pro-European sentiment among those in favour of independence contrasts noticably with the anti-European attitudes of the pro-union right, who are overwhelmingly not a Scottish contingent. It's hardly surprising since Scotland has always been, since the 14th and 15th centuries, a European country in a way that England has never been - and probably never will be. But all of that's another subject for another time/thread perhaps.

(If you'd like a look at something which picks up on the theme of European oriented renaissance culture in Scotland try the new website www.stagingthescottishcourt.org and come to the performances in Linlithgow Palace this June.)

Meanwhile, I loved your sinuous franglais and I wouldn't hear, let alone utter, a bad word against Lucy who gave me a win in the only competition I had ever actually entered.

[Rob Stuart]

Well I'm going to have a sneer all right, but my chosen target is, I think, something of a special case.

I sing of the virtues of Vatican City,
A place of incredible splendor and power.
As nation states go it is so itty-bitty
You might walk around it in less than an hour.

The Papal Basilica’s awfully pretty-
It makes Britain’s churches look crap, even France’s.
Saint Peter’s Square’s always chock-full (more’s the pity)
Of tourists who hope for a glimpse of Pope Francis.

Their newspapers make all our own ones look shitty:
They don’t ever feature a kiss-and-tell story.
There’s nary a pic of a young lady’s titty
Polluting the pages of L’Osservatore.

They never wage war, have no housing committee,
Don’t suffer our egalitarian faults.
And Ratzinger (you know, the Pontiff who quit), he
Insisted they cut back on sexual assaults.

[Martin Parker]

I write of reason’s hinterland, the land each dreamer knows
And where I now feel most at home -- It’s where the Bong Tree grows.
Where all one’s goods can be contained in just a five pound note,
And all its new arrivals fit in one small pea-green boat:
Where politicians don’t exist and banks don’t make a killing,
Where no-one cares that GDP amounts to just one shilling:
Where sandy beaches have no oil, no screaming kids or bars
And songs are backed by nothing more than small non-amped guitars:
Where cats and owls dance hand in hand replete on quince and honey --
And those who write this kind of verse can all earn steady money.

[Brian Allgar]

(Another bit of attempted recycling - what an ecologically PC fellow I am!)

This aging poet from Albania
Might strike us as a useless bodger,
For in the years of Marxist mania,
The only rhyme allowed was “Hoxha”.
His many published works include:
“Our Leader is an Artful Doxha”
(A lengthy prison term ensued,
But, thanks to writing “Apoloxha”,
Demands for death were not pursued);
A Hitchcock spin-off called “The Loxha”;
An ode in geriatric mood
Entitled “To a poor old coxha”.
The Leader died. Relieved, renewed,
The Poet wrote a fine “Euloxha”,
With patriotic love imbued:
“God save Albania! Soxha, Hoxha!”

[FOsen]

Nigel - Aside from pointing out the relative sizes of Kiribati and Pasadena, post #30 simply reiterates what was inherent in my offering (Kiribati is a small nation whose existence is threatened by global warming), then leaps (a jump equivalent to the distance between Leeds and Italy?) to the conclusion that I was mocking the nation.

In 16 lines of tet, everything is tiny - the sensibility of the reader usually expands accordingly.

Editing in to thank Nigel for causing a rethink - I hadn't fully explored the absurdity of the situation

Frank

[Peter Goulding]

Switzerland, oh Switzerland,
prosperity befits a land
surrounded by a trade zone that’s
controlled by EU bureaucrats.
And though you shun our laws and treaties
and will not take our proffered sweeties,
it seems, despite the constant doubters,
you are doing fine without us.

Switzerland, oh Switzerland,
within your borders sits a land
of mountains, valleys, lakes and chasms,
where chocolate’s known to cause orgasms.
But, if I’m honest, first and foremost,
the real reason je t’adore most,
is that you spawned a man named Klaus,
who ran off with my curséd spouse.

[Graham King]

John, your Australian Anthem's fantastic!
(Although it does end with a measure quite drastic)
And Martin, I'm envious - your final line
Sings the praise of a land that'd suit me just fine.

[John Whitworth]

Peter, you rhymes to Switzerland are wonderful.

Graham, Oz brings out the best in me and publishes more of my poems than any other country. Ah my Murray!