[John Whitworth]

Competition
Wednesday, 7th July 2010
Lucy Vickery presents the latest competition
In Competition No. 2654 you were asked to submit a piece of lively and plausible prose, the first word beginning with ‘a’, the second with ‘b’, and so on, throughout the alphabet. Then to start again from ‘a’ and continue up to a maximum of 156 words.
This was a real stinker, I admit. There were slip-ups from experienced competitors (Mary Holtby, Nicholas Hodgson), and many entries petered out into exhausted and exasperated silence well before the 156-word limit (though there was no obligation, of course, to reach it). As Basil Ransome-Davies so eloquently put it: ‘Basta! You will go to hell for this one.’ Well, Bazza, you can blame Cervantes, who, John Whitworth tells me, invented this game.
For all the torture they inflicted, the strict technical parameters did produce some inventive responses, as well as some delightfully surreal if at times somewhat stilted prose. Hats off to all who entered, and especially to the winners, printed below, who get £35 each. Sheer brilliance earns W.J. Webster the extra fiver.

At best, Charles Dickens exemplifies flawed genius, however interpreted. Joyful knockabout, lively melodrama, nauseatingly overdone pathos, quite ridiculous sentimental tosh uneasily vie with x-rated yarns. Zestful always, brilliantly charismatic, Dickens entertains famously, giving himself in joyous, kind-hearted, liberal measure. No other practitioner quite realises such terrific, unquenchable vitality, with x-factor youthful zeal. Articulating brave causes, Dickens eloquently fought greed, hypocrisy, injustice — jollying killjoys, lampooning moneybags, needling officious pomposity, questioning received stupidities. That unflinching vision was x-ray, yielding Zoroastrian archetypes. But creatively deconstructing egregious false gods helped ignite jealousies, kindled long-term, malevolent, narrow-minded opposition, perpetually quarrelsome. (Remember something, though: universally valued was ‘Xmas’, yuletide zippily adapted beyond Christ-mass — Dickens engagingly fostered gregarious hijinks in jovially kitsch lavishness.) Marriage now obtrudes. Patient quarrying reveals: spouse traduced, unwarrantedly vilified — wretched Xanthippe. Yes, zealotry also begets callousness: Dickens, extravagantly — fabulously — gifted, hurt innocents, junked kinsfolk loutishly. Magnificent novelist, ordinary person. Queer. Rankles somehow, truthfully.
W.J. Webster

Alexander battled continually, defeating everyone. Fortune granted him impressive judgment, knowing little Macedonia’s nobility, opposite Persian quantity, required superior tactics, unfailing, virtuous wisdom, Xenocratic, youthful zest and bravery. Courage dominated everything; fidelity gained his inspirational justice, kingly luxury meaning nothing. Olympias, perhaps questionably, received support though utterly virago-like, with Xanthippe’s yapping zeal. Audacious Bucephalus could do exceptional feats, giving his illustrious junior king loyalty. Macedonia’s noble officer, Parmenion, quibbled regarding storming Tyre, urgently voicing: ‘When Xerxes yielded, Zeus approved, but chasing Darius everywhere fuels Grecian hatred. It just keeps long-suffering men needlessly occupied. Pursuit questions reason.’ Sagely, the unbending victor, whose xenophilic, youth-inspired zing annoyed belligerent Clitus, disagreed. Eventually, fatigue gained hold. India’s jungles killed legions. Many now openly protested, quarrelling resentfully. Sadly this Ubermensch vanished with Xenophon — yesterday’s zenith. Afterwards, bloodthirsty Cassander defeated Eumenes for governorship. He inspired jealousy, killing leading Macedonians. Noble officer Ptolemy quietly ruled southern territories, upholding values without Xerxes’ yoke-inflicting zealotry.
Frank McDonald

At bedtime Caroline deliciously emerged from Good Housekeeping in jolly, kissy, loving mood, needing, obviously, pretty quick responses. Sex tonight, unusually violent, was xerodermatic, yesterday’s zeitgeist. At breakfast, Charles devoured eagerly ‘fresh grapefruit halves in jus’, ‘kelp laverbread’, ‘mini nuggets of pork quenelles’, ‘Russian sardines’, two unpasteurised ‘very wholesome Xtra-lite’ yoghurts, zucchini and bacon. Caroline declined everything, feeling ghastly herself. In jaded kilt, looking mildly nauseous, or perhaps queasily rebellious, she tarted up visibly when Xenophon Yarnton, zoologist and botanist, came downstairs. Extraordinary feelings gripped her inside. Joint kindergartens, lecherous moments, now overturned present quiet reality. She tottered upwards, visibly wilting, X-ray yearnings zooming across behind Charles’s deaf ear. ‘Feeling giddy?’ he inquired, just kissing lightly. Men never offer purely quixotic responses. She trembled uncontrollably, vibrant with Xenophon Yarnton. Zest, and being cosseted, dissolved everything. Feeling good, he inspired just kindness, loving manhood, nothing obviously patronising, quiet reassurance. She totally understood.
Tim Raikes

Alias Baron Corvo: drama-queen, excessively fey, gay hedonist, incessant jew-baiter, kissed lads, mostly not over-age; papistical, quintessentially racist, sexist, talented under-achieving, vestment-loving, worshipping Xtian yet zoilean.
Anne Boleyn: caught debonair eager fun-loving glamorous Henry’s interest; jolly, kittenish, loving mistress nightly ousted prudent queen; raunchy sex turned ugly; violence was x-rated, yielding zilch.
Anthony Burgess (creative doppelgänger Enderby): fierce godbotherer, heteronominal indicative, Joseph Kell; learned, musicianly novelist often paradoxical, quirky, rich sometime tax-exile, unequalled, very witty, xenoglossic, yea-saying zarathustra.
Aphra Behn: Canterbury domiciled espionage factotum; great historical interest; jaunty; kinky lovers; major novel (Orinooko), plays; quondam resident Surinam; titillating, urbane, Virginia Woolf xxxed, yeasty; zingy.
John Whitworth