Oh, this is a verse-permitted day, Kathryn? In that case:

Several readers have expressed interest in the “near miss” poem alluded to by my Straggler column in the current NRODT. Here is the entire page from the 1978 New Statesman competition book (which has the title “Never Rub Bottoms with a Porcupine”). Note: Some of the words near-missed are British crudities, perhaps not known over here.

Competition: “As I was going to St. Paul’s / A lady grabbed me by the elbow…” Competitors were asked to provide more lines in this regrettable vein.

Winner:

I dreamed I dwelt in marble halls
Of ample airs and sumptuous tinge,
While odalisques caressed my cheeks,
Each with a warm and willing palm.
I dreamed I sauntered on the front
At Cannes, where I had moored my yacht.
The movie stars! The lavish cars!
The fine display of Gallic charm!
I dreamed I discoed at the Ritz –
The evening warm, the music cool –
And gorgeous girls who tossed their curls Admired my sleek and well-hung clothes.
But then I woke, and cursed my luck;
My heart relapsed, my spirits sank.
No yacht in France, no girls, no dance — No option but to have a doze.