RyanLine poetry competition

In a recent rummage through the archival material at RTÉ Radio (as punishment for cruel, grisly crimes of a past life) I came across the recording of an instalment of the 'Gurry Ryan Hour of Shit, Shite and More of the Same', a popular radio emission (of one kind or another) of the late 1980s. In the show that I had the bad luck to hear, Gurry ran a poetry competition for his listeners. The competition was sponsored by Jacob's, the biscuit-makers, and Barry's, the tea-makers. The prize for the best poem, as judged by Gurry himself, was a week's worth of tea and biscuits.

The estimation of 'a week's worth' was judged, however, by executives from Jacob's and from Barry's. They reckoned that 'a week's worth' of tea and biscuits, based on the general median consumption rates of tea and biscuits by the average person who isn't all that gone on either tea or biscuits was virtually nil. Concluded on the back of a highly-reputed survey across all constituencies of Ireland, the only time that such a consumer would in fact have either a cup of tea or a biscuit would be if they happened to visit an elderly neighbour or a relative living within a fifteen mile radius of their own primary abode. However, it was later proved that the results were skewed, as an inordinate weight was placed on the answers of the consumers who happened to be lactose intolerant and were also severely allergic to whatever biscuits are made (biscuit plants, I suppose).

In the end, the winner of the competition was given five digestive biscuits, a spoonful of jam in a zip-lock bag and three tea bags. He was reported to have been 'pleased' with his winnings. More exciting than the free commodities and produce, the winner was treated to a rare visit to the radio building in RTÉ, Donnybrook, Dublin Four, to meet Gurry himself.

Gurry greeted the winner of the poetry competition half-heatedly at the steps that led to the reception area of the building (housing a small collection of tatty year-old fashion magazine), hurriedly read the winning poem, shook the winners hand, said something about a lunch appointment in Merrion and promptly left. The winner was said to be 'pleased' with his interview with the radio dick-jockey [sic.] celebrity.

Below are the three finalists in the poetry competition. In the archives of the show, Gurry's hand-written notes are still on the printed copies of the poems from the meetings to discuss the poems' artistic merit. 'Load of bollix' reads one annotation. 'Can't imagine worse wank' is another highly critical comment, also in Gurry's hand. However, at stanzas that took his fancy, Gurry scratched 'spot on' beside them in faint pencil. Also praising is his frequently used phraseology 'better than a slab of rib-eye and peppercorn sauce smothering a side dish of mushrooms'.

For the sheer fun of it, I will not reveal which of the below entries was picked by Gurry to win. However, I'm sure it'll be more than heavily apparent-- to those of us who were raised on Cheerios, Petit Filous and RTÉ Radio as we got ready for school in the '80s-- which Gurry was likely to choose.


Entry 1
Title: Thursdays

I tiptoe to have a go
and a lash at my lady's gash,
and then I spy her wanting eye
having a look see at my mickey.

We went at it, and at it, and at it--
you don't need tellin' how we were yellin'
for more and more 'til we heard the door.

The conclusion of our foul play
met with the arrival of the take-away.
'Here's a twenty,' sez I to the pizza felleh
bringing tomato red and cheese of yelleh.

I devoured it in just three bites
and then I shite; shite; shite!


Entry 2
Title: All Beneath Me

Irish chippers learn your trade
Fry up whatever is well made,
Scorn the sort to waste good chips
On stupid little pots of dips;
Lob 'em all in a vat of curry
and gobble them down all a-hurry.
Wash it down with cans of Fanta--
Jaysus Christ-- that's my mantra!
Eat, repeat, do a shite,
Get paid, ah! That's the life!
Top it off with plenty champagne
RTÉ's payin'! Again, again!
I will be a public hero
'Til my heart rate lands at zero.


Entry 3
Title: Irish Sudoku Haiku

Vibrators here, vibrators galore,

But have you ever seen the vibrators of
Tramore.