A PROPOSAL FOR A MODERN SUITOR

Evening Post, Volume CXXII, Issue 82, 3 October 1936, Page 29

A PROPOSAL FOR A MODERN SUITOR

Prizes were recently offered by the "Manchester Guardian" for a marriage proposal by a modern suitor, in not more than eight lines of verse.

Except for the frequent appearance of that1 extraordinary phrase "How about a spot of matrimony?" (has anybody outside P. G. Wodehouse ever really asked this question?) the competition had plenty of variety, commented the judges. The several moods and fashions of what is generally portrayed as specifically modern lovemaking were extensively illustrated, the Casual, the Calculating, the Sentimental Hard-boiled, the Bold Unmaidenly, as well, Of course, as the Free, Frank, but not Hearty. What, for example, could be better in its genre than the candid appeal drafted by a Nelson competitor:— The lark's on the win?, The wolf's at the door: I need you, old thing, I need your ensh more. I've just sot the sack, ] wonna be Rny: So marry me. Jack, For a year and a day. It was also possible to adapt some famous lines, in a manner which would certainly have surprised the original artist, in these evocative stanzas from Lisburn, Northern Ireland: Come live wilh me, and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove Of lahour-savlnc days and niuhts And Kasy-psy Way's sweet delights. And If we find we don't net on, Why, then we'll part, and no hnrm done ; But until then,' let me thee move. To live with me and be my love.

Courage sank at the prospect of having to choose prize-winners from such a "field" —and a dozen or more verses have been crowded out which were almost or quite as good as those given. However, there was nothing for it but to draw one's rough thumb and finger down so much excellence, beauty, and wit. and select three winners among whom the prize-money is divided. They are as follows: — First: . . Johnnie, old thins, you're not much of a catch. And Mum's frightfully keen I should make a good match. But I'm sick of the office, too utterly slow I. And Bad's such an awful old tyrant, you know; I can't have a cocktail at home, or a fag. And as for nij wardrobe, I haven't a rag! We've enough for a table, two chairs, and a bed, So step on It, Darling I Let's go and get wedl Next: 1.0 1 how exalted is the new-horn boy, I'he .ecund marriage Mussolini's joy; Hitler and Stalin preach the self-same creed, Frown on divorce, and bid their minions breed. Shall Britain then Duff Cooper's call' Umore; Lack warriors. and be deemed a fifth-rate Power ? Come, Annabelle, your duty lies with mine. Wed, and ensure the future firing-line. Finally. We like High Teas ■ And Flying Fleas. James Joyce and Ginger Rogers; We both hate Cats And Service flats And belnu someone's lodgers; . On vital issues there's no deadlock, How about a spot of Wedlock?