In Competition No. 2466 you were invited to supply a poem or piece of prose ending with the phrase ‘It seemed like a good idea at the time.’ These words, according to Eric Partridge’s definition, are ‘applied in retrospect, jocularly or ruefully, to anything done impulsively with disastrous consequences, whether or not those were foreseeable at the moment of action’, like, I suppose, the self-castration of the priests of Cybele or the invasion of Iraq. I move aside to make room for six prizewinners, who get £25 each. The bonus fiver goes to Piers Geddes, who, if memory serves, is a newcomer. But if memory serves, it is often a fault.
When Clovis the Frank wanted peace with his neighbours,
A break from rebellions and rest from his labours,
He sent invitations to tea on the lawn
And afternoon sports, mixing judgment with brawn.
To Ostrogoth, Visigoth, Vandal and Hun
Refreshments were offered and the games were begun;
The chatter was cordial, banter quite jokey,
Till someone suggested a quick game of croquet.
Smiles all round; then a chorus of ‘Cheat!’
Showed a certain reluctance to meet with defeat.
In seconds, two Vandals were dinner for gulls,
There were mallets embedded in Ostrogoth skulls,
Croquet balls slung from some improvised loops
And Huns in the bushes, impaled on hoops.
‘That’s a shame,’ murmured Clovis, sipping orange and lime.
‘It seemed like a good idea at the time.’
Piers Geddes‘Course, at the time there wasn’t any, just an infinite amount of, well, infinity, but I gave myself a week and got creating. After I’d done the heavens and got the earth sorted, I called in the lads to help — not Lucifer, of course, who’d gone off in a huff, never found out where. We had some laughs with the animals. When Gabriel did the walrus I thought I’d rend the firmament! It was Uriel — he was a right piss-artist — got me to do a teeny-weeny version of myself, only less ineffable, and then I did another one with not so many bits and not as hairy. I can’t remember who came up with the reproduction idea — we’d all been on the cocktails for aeons by then. In the end we buggered off and left them to it. But it seemed like a good idea at the time.
Brian MurdochWhen I first laid eyes on Della, it was clear I had to tell her
I was captured by the magic of her face.
There were prickles up my spine, for her figure was divine,
And her lightest touch would cause my heart to race.
She said I was her ideal, not just fancy but for real:
We existed in a gorgeous kind of haze.
Then we married, quick as fire, all aquiver with desire,
And we swore to stick together all our days.
Well, such joy could never last, and what happened pretty fast
Was a noticeable cooling in my bride,
For a creature so curvaceous and incurably flirtatious
Took to having other fellows on the side.
When I cried, ‘You did deceive me!’, she replied that she would leave me,
So I ventured on my first and only crime:
And what’s left of lovely Della is now buried in the cellar.
It seemed like a good idea at the time.
Godfrey BullardI felt I had genius, like Wordsworth or Joyce —
A prominent author, a seminal voice —
But I couldn’t write prose or effectively rhyme.
Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time.
With savings exhausted, the challenge was clear:
To keep up my lifestyle, by no means austere.
So I took to a life of deception and crime,
Since it seemed like a good idea at the time.
When I came out of jail I was no longer young,
With my feet on society’s bottom-most rung.
But my bonding with Jesus was something sublime.
Least, it seemed like a good idea at the time.
When God let me down I replaced Him with drink,
And I learned of the depths to which humans can sink.
Now, though homeless and constantly bladdered, still I’m
Sure it seemed like a good idea at the time.
G.M. DavisAll mighty oaks from tiny acorns grow;
The child is father of the man, and so
These easy stages: monitor (at school)
Trading the milk for fags (I was no fool);
A tidy profit forging parents’ notes
Excusing games; manipulating votes
For Head Boy (so my favourite always won);
Some sleight of hand with credit cards; a run
Of shady poker games and ‘clocking’ cars
To half their mileage; time-share Spanish bars
(Child’s play exploiting wannabes and dreams),
Then lovely bubbly heady dotcom schemes.
Each one a jeu d’esprit; each single scam
Expands an empire, proves how great I am,
And one excuse supports this life of crime:
It seemed like a good idea — at the time.
D.A. PrinceIt’s too late to rue my lamentable lot.
I should have said no to that pitiful plot
And yet I was flattered enough to comply
When they told me they needed a brilliant guy
And I was the one most revered and admired
With all of the knowledge and skills they required.
And so I agreed to take part in the plan
Provided the others would carry the can
If something when wrong, as it did in this case
When the ruse went awry and blew up in my face!
Though nothing exploded, no, nothing at all,
Parliament stands. It is I who must fall.
And this is the plea of one soon to be slaughtered
(Not prettily either, but hanged, drawn and quartered):
‘Remember, remember, when judging my crime,
It seemed like a good idea at the time.’
Alan MillardNo. 2469: Paracrostic
That is, a poem in which the initial letters of each line, read down the page, reproduce the first line. You are invited to supply one. Maximum 16 lines. Entries to ‘Competition No. 2469’ by 9 November.