The mod acrostic

In Competition No. 2482 you were invited to supply an acrostic poem, involving questions and answers in which the first letters of the lines read SOCRATIC METHOD.

Smartypants will have spotted that the title of this competition is an anagram of the required phrase. In hospital one undergoes much questioning as well as treatment. The other day a nurse with a clipboard asked me, ‘Are you apprehensive in this hospital?’ ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Why?’ she inquired. ‘Aren’t most people in hospital apprehensive, because they’re ill but they don’t know how ill?’ ‘Oh,’ she said most un-Socratically, ‘that was rather a silly question, wasn’t it?’ ‘Yes.’

Commendations to Paul Griffin and Frank Mc Donald. Prizewinners, printed below, get £25 each, and the bonus fiver goes to G.M. Davis.

Should art be autotelic, or for use?

Only for pleasure; all else would be abuse.

Can it not point us to the wise and good?

Rarely — and there’s no reason why it should.

An artist, then, may lack a moral sense?

Too true — and there’s an alp of evidence.

Is Matthew Arnold not a guiding light?

Call him instead a kind of Prozac-lite.

Must culture only be a panacea?

Ethics are for the tastes of yesteryear.

Then appetites are all you recognise?

Hedonic jouissance is what I prize.

Oh, is there nothing that can lift your soul?

Decidedly: sex, drugs and rock’n’roll.

G.M. Davis

‘So, how do you, a virtuous person, place,

Ordered as to usefulness to you,

Cunning, meanness, benevolence and grace?’

‘Reluctantly I’ll grant that the first two

Are needed daily, but I am afraid

The others that you list are, to be frank,

Impractical for someone in my trade.’

‘Can this be true? — that you, whose trusted bank

Manages my money, do not most

Earnestly prize virtues such as these

To match the probity of which you boast?’

‘However much you speak like Socrates,

Overdrafts are not available this week,

Despite your philosophical technique.’

Hugh King

So Tony Blair is going very soon?

Only when he judges it opportune.

Can he alone decide what’s right and wrong?

Really, that’s been his practice all along.

And popular opinion doesn’t count?

The fickle mob’s view? Not a great amount.

Isn’t democracy in danger here?

Calm down. Have faith. There’s no great cause for fear.

Must sheer blind faith supplant all reasoned thought?

Easy does it. Don’t sell the PM short.

The man who sold us short with stupid lies?

He acted always as he thought it wise.

Or as George Bush did — isn’t that a fact?

Doubt is contagious. Don’t make me retract.

Basil Ransome-Davies

‘So cash for honours is a good idea?’

‘Our Upper House can squeeze in one more lord;

Cash gifts fund policies we can’t afford.’

‘Right. Are you sure this wealthy, would-be peer

And others you create will play the game?’

‘They want their titles. They’ll pay up — no stress!’

‘Is this likely to please the gutter press?’

‘Call the gifts “loans”: the ruse lies in the name!’

‘Might not a public scandal spoil your tricks?

Each thwarted “lord” might want his money back.’

‘Then we’d repay the “loans”. All would be fine!’

‘How could you hope to fund such a quick fix,

Or get hold of the cash you claimed you lack?’

‘Darn it — then I suppose I must resign!’

Shirley Curran

‘So you’re taking Philosophy, year one?’

‘Only because the Media course was full.’

‘Come in. Now tell me, which books have you done?’

‘Reading’s not something we did much at school.’

‘Are you familiar with the syllogism?’

‘To be quite honest with you, no, I’m not.’

‘I wonder then . . . let’s try Positivism?’

‘Can’t say. Weren’t they a Heavy Metal lot?’

‘Maybe I should just give you out the list? —

Essays and such, details of next week’s task.’

‘To tell the truth I’m still, I am afraid,

Hungover from the freshers’ rave — quite pissed.’

‘OK, is there something you’d like to ask?’

‘Do these tutorials count towards my grade?’

Brian Murdoch

Sandy, old chap, whatever have you found?

Oh, just a fiver, lying on the ground.

Congratulations! With good luck, you might

Return it to its owner by tonight.

A fat chance! It could be from anywhere.

True, but consider this: what odds are there

If, picking on some random passer-by,

Chance might dictate he was the very guy?

Millions to one, a fraction more than nought.

Exactly. And what chance in case you sought

To pocket it yourself? Of course, damn all.

Have we now bottomed it? Would you not call

One in a million slightly more than none?

Damn you philosophers, you spoil our fun.

Noel Petty

No. 2485: Short story

You are invited to write a short story (maximum 250 words) entitled ‘Can You Forgive Her?’ Entries to ‘Competition No. 2485’ by 8 March.