Ivor Brown asks for twenty lines in the manner of Chesterton , beginning ‘When Parliament met on Parliament Hill’. Too much beer, remarks Brown – not every Chesterton verse has the word ‘flagon’ in it. He commends Seacape, a new figure called Q.Q.Q., Xenos, and – back where he belongs in the also-rans again, T.E. Casson. The winners are Valimus and Frank Milton.
The B competition is an epitaph on a Dead Certainty – Brown adds that, although Ascot week approaches, that isn’t the mandatory theme. Brown observes that almost everyone spotted that ‘cert’ rhymed with ‘shirt’, and from that followed in many cases the idea that a shirt was a shroud. Hence a lot of epitaphs involving winding-sheets. The runners-up include new man Q.Q.Q., but also T.E. Casson, Lester Ralph, William Bliss, Little Billee, Baldwin S. Harvey, Cuniculus, and D.S. Meldrum (his first appearance here. He was a Scots academic who was working at the time with William Roughead on the collected works of nineteenth century political novelist, John Galt). Another mentioned in dispatches is Sir Robert Witt, an eminent art historian (1872-1952). Witt is an interesting figure to find here. He had jointly founded the Courtauld Institute with the eponymous Sam Courtauld – the latter beiung the owner, of course, of the Week-end Review. At this point in the WR’s history, behind the scenes, Courtauld must have already been having the second thoughts that were to lead to the magazine’s closure.