Well, here's the new Speccie but I'm afraid it won't do if you haven't got some UK knowledge. And Martin Parker seems to be right. The Hell competition contained no poems among the winners, though Chris O'Carroll again upheld the honour of the Sphere, which makes THREE times by my reckoning and thanks for the card, Chris. Send along the cheque. I stil have plenty of dollars left.
No. 2601: Misinformation
Time to resurrect an old favourite: you are invited to submit snippets of misleading advice for tourists visiting Britain (150 words maximum). Entries to ‘Competition 2601’ by 18 June or email
lucy@spectator.co.uk.
I have an old poem which could, at a stretch, be said to be on the subject. Here it is.
Misinformation
Out in the English farmyard
The ostriches are scratching
And eggs as big as rugby balls
Are ready to be hatching.
In plashy, splashy English brooks
The beavers are a-damming,
Down winding English country lanes
The llamas are a-lambing,
In English country gardens now
The ganja is in bloom,
Through ranks of yellow English rape
The giant hornets zoom
And the rolling English hillside
Re-echoes as they go
With heavy tread - ten thousand head
Of English beefalo.
STOP PRESS
I am covered with confusion the O'Carroll Hell is indeed in verse. Here it is.
Murdoch publishes the only paper.
It’s always Mary Whitehouse on Page 3.
Publicans pour nothing but Budweiser.
The state religion’s Scientology.
The in-laws drop in every night for dinner.
Museums are crammed with velvet Elvis art.
Private Eye prints excerpts from your diary.
The other people are all Jean-Paul Sartre.
Chris O’Carroll
Speccie: Misinformation
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