Who's closest?
Given that Lady Bracknell still lacks the level of concentration required to peororate with her wonted vigour, she offers instead a further game for her readers' amusement.
The description of the game which follows is taken from, "Three Hundred Games and Amusements", published in 1929 and written by Edward Verrall Lucas and Lucinda Lucas. (Mr Lucas' other works include the intriguingly-titled, "Anne's Terrible Good Nature". Lady Bracknell can only guess as to the volume's nature and content, unless one of her readers can elnlighten her further.)
"The players sit in a row or circle and one, having thought of something - of any description whatsoever - asks them in turn, "What is my thought like?". Not having the faintest idea what the thought is, they reply at random. One may say, "Like a dog"; another, "Like a saucepan"; a third, "Like a wet day"; a fourth, "Like a pantomime".
After collecting all the answers, the player announces what the thought was, and then goes along the row again calling upon the players to explain why it is like the thing named by them. The merit of the game lies in these explanations.
Thus, perhaps the thing thought of was a concertina. The first player, asked to show why a concertina is like a dog, may reply, "Because when it is squeezed, it howls." The next may say, "It is like a heavy saucepan because it is held in both hands." The third may say, "It is like a wet day because one has soon had enough of it"; and the fourth, "It is like a pantomime because it is full of tunes.""
Now, Lady Bracknell's readers cannot all sit in a circle or a row and be asked the question individually. They should therefore take this blog entry as equating to their having been asked the question personally by Lady Bracknell herself.
Lady Bracknell will allow a period of approximately 48 hours for readers to declare what they believe her thought to be like. When that stage of the game is over, an announcement of what Lady Bracknell's thought actually was will be made in the comments, and all who have played will then be at liberty to explain why they believe they came the closest out of all who have played to guessing exactly what Lady Bracknell's thought was like.
In the likely event that none of the players makes an accurate guess as to what Lady Bracknell's thought was, the top prize will go to the player who provides the most humorous justification for his or her guess.
Lady Bracknell hopes that she has explained the rules clearly, but is aware that her intellectual abilities are not currently at their sparkling best. Potential players are welcome to seek clarification, should there be any confusion.
Let the game commence:
What is Lady Bracknell's thought like?
Post script
Lady Bracknell forgot to add (did she mention she is not well...?) that first prize - should the winning player have a blog of his or her own - will be the opportunity to host a further round of "Who's closest?" on his or her own blog.
Should the winning player not have a blog, first prize will consist of feeling very smug.
The description of the game which follows is taken from, "Three Hundred Games and Amusements", published in 1929 and written by Edward Verrall Lucas and Lucinda Lucas. (Mr Lucas' other works include the intriguingly-titled, "Anne's Terrible Good Nature". Lady Bracknell can only guess as to the volume's nature and content, unless one of her readers can elnlighten her further.)
"The players sit in a row or circle and one, having thought of something - of any description whatsoever - asks them in turn, "What is my thought like?". Not having the faintest idea what the thought is, they reply at random. One may say, "Like a dog"; another, "Like a saucepan"; a third, "Like a wet day"; a fourth, "Like a pantomime".
After collecting all the answers, the player announces what the thought was, and then goes along the row again calling upon the players to explain why it is like the thing named by them. The merit of the game lies in these explanations.
Thus, perhaps the thing thought of was a concertina. The first player, asked to show why a concertina is like a dog, may reply, "Because when it is squeezed, it howls." The next may say, "It is like a heavy saucepan because it is held in both hands." The third may say, "It is like a wet day because one has soon had enough of it"; and the fourth, "It is like a pantomime because it is full of tunes.""
Now, Lady Bracknell's readers cannot all sit in a circle or a row and be asked the question individually. They should therefore take this blog entry as equating to their having been asked the question personally by Lady Bracknell herself.
Lady Bracknell will allow a period of approximately 48 hours for readers to declare what they believe her thought to be like. When that stage of the game is over, an announcement of what Lady Bracknell's thought actually was will be made in the comments, and all who have played will then be at liberty to explain why they believe they came the closest out of all who have played to guessing exactly what Lady Bracknell's thought was like.
In the likely event that none of the players makes an accurate guess as to what Lady Bracknell's thought was, the top prize will go to the player who provides the most humorous justification for his or her guess.
Lady Bracknell hopes that she has explained the rules clearly, but is aware that her intellectual abilities are not currently at their sparkling best. Potential players are welcome to seek clarification, should there be any confusion.
Let the game commence:
What is Lady Bracknell's thought like?
Post script
Lady Bracknell forgot to add (did she mention she is not well...?) that first prize - should the winning player have a blog of his or her own - will be the opportunity to host a further round of "Who's closest?" on his or her own blog.
Should the winning player not have a blog, first prize will consist of feeling very smug.
posted by
Lady Bracknell | Sunday, March 25, 2007
33 Comments:
Lady Bracknell's thought is like chocolate cake.
Lady Bracknell's thought is like an oldfashioned armchair.
Lady Bracknell's thought is like a mobile phone
Lady Bracknell's thought is like a rag rug.
Lady Bracknell's thought is like a cat.
Lady Bracknell's thought is like a walking stick.
Lady Bracknell's thought is like a trebuchet.
Lady Bracknell's thought is like a fish.
lady Bracknell's thought is like cloted cream.
Lady Bracknell's thought is like a lovely old steam train.
Lady Bracknell's thought is like Scrodinger's Cat
Lady Bracknell's thought is like Wensleydale, Gromit.
There have been some spirited (possibly ambitious?) plays made in the first part of the game.
Lady Bracknell is very much looking forward to the player's next moves now that she is ready to reveal her thought.
Lady Bracknell was thinking of a business meeting.
(In an aside from the game itself, Lady Bracknell would like to take the opportunity to wish the Queen Mum - the content of whose own blog well repays the slight effort required to click on her name - a warm welcome to her humble scribblings.)
I claim that my analogy is nearest because a business meeting and a rag rug both consist of violently contrasting elements being forcibly combined together in an attempt to produce something useful and which will last, but with a lot of loose ends and trailing matter still abounding.
A business meeting is like clotted cream because one just sits there until one begins to weep.
Having been privy (prior to moderation) to Mr Dawson's compelling and ingenious explanation of the way in which a rag rug entirely resembles a business meeting, Lady Bracknell has decided to refrain from publishing any of the second "goes" until all have been received.
She takes this unusual step in order to prevent any accusations from those who respond early that the later respondents have drawn inspiration from the words of their competitors, and thus gained an unfair advantage.
Lady Bracknell's thought of a business meeting is like a mobile phone, firstly because both frequently intrude rather unpleasantly into one's real life, and secondly, because both are intended to aid communication yet frequently fail due to the inherent jargon. It is also true that both business meetings and mobile phone calls are all the better for being kept as short as possible. Especially if one is on the train/bus/other public conveyance.
Gosh Darn it to Heck, d'you mean I can't cheat? This may take some time then.
Incidentally, what are we supposed to chew on whilst deep in thought, now that a plastic keyboard has replaced the humble wooden pencil? I tried a "tab" key, but it broke my tooth.
Would your Ladyship be so kind as to advise the deadline for submission of entries...?
Lady Bracknell will perform the final judging on Sunday (or earlier, if all contributions have been received).
Players who have not submitted their "goes" by that time will be declared "out".
A business meeting is like a walking stick because:-
• Some people will hold one for show rather than because they need to;
• It is pointless having one on a crowded train;
• It can be a real pain if it is longer than needed;
• When you do need one, you need it now – not in 3 weeks time;
• Many people don’t like the idea and will try to manage without one for as long as they possibly can.
I wouldn't dream of amking any such churlish claims, your Ladyship.
Simply because, anyone driven to seeking inspiration from me, must be either desperate, drunk, or in the wrong game.
Ways in which a business meeting resembles Schrodinger's cat.
1. It can be simultaneously dead and alive
2. It is neither alive nor dead until the box is opened.
3. You cannot know if it is dead or alive until you open the box.
I am confident the Editor will have attended many meetings that fit these criteria.
A business meeting is like a trebuchet because it is brutal, cumbersome and archaic, and makes me want to throw rocks at things.
A business meeting is like a chocolate cake:
because it has sticky, awkward moments.
because you look at it and think you can get to the end, but when you're three-quarters of the way through you start thinking "Oh no, now I'm stuffed".
because when it's all over, some people will have a sense of accomplishment while others will be feeling sick.
because the creator's description makes it sound more important than it actually is.
because it may often be accompanied by sausage rolls and very small sandwiches.
I think I was very close to Lady Bracknell's though because an old fashioned armchair and a business meeting are basically the same: uncomfortable and one usually leaves both of them totally worn out and cringing.
Lady B's business meeting is just like a lovely old steam train. Why? Because everyone is 'on board' and there are plenty of opportunities for 'blue sky thinking' when you look out of the window. Plus there's the buffet of course. Goujon anyone?
Lady Bracknell still awaits - with bated breath - devilishly cunning responses from the Pseudonymous Carp, the Goldfish, Melbamae and Vic.
Lady Bracknell's thought of a business meeting is like Wensleydale because both can become tedious if one has to partake of a whole one, and biscuits can be taken with both.
The Goldfish having rendered her apologies via a personal communication, and the Pseudonymous Carp having failed to meet the deadline, Lady Bracknell must now judge the available contributions.
The task is not an easy one: the players have all displayed considerable inventiveness and ingenuity. There is not a single weak "go" amongst those proffered.
However, Lady Bracknell is made of sterner stuff than to shirk a decision of this nature.
Joint first place goes to the queen_mum (whose contribution made the Editor roar with laughter) and the seahorse (whose addition of the goujon was inspired).
Both are now entitled - should they so wish - to host a round of the game on their own blogs.
Melbamae receives a special mention for her exceedingly devious use of the word "uncannily".
It only remains for Lady Bracknell to thank all who have taken part warmly, and to express her sincere hope that they enjoyed playing.
Not many fans of business meetings about - surprisignly.....
I have greatly enjoyed reading the ingenious explanations and offer congratulations to the worthy winner. Having been forced to sit through many business meetings, I could identify with so many of these.
I feel honoured to have been placed in joint first position with one as witty as the queen_mum and I thank the Editor for providing a much needed diversion in the form of this recent and most successful parlour game. I feel that a house move this week, and the unpredictability of when normal service will be resumed (both technological and cognitive) may put pay to further play on my blog for a while. But I am keen for these parlour games to continue so keep it up everyone, and I'll give one a whirl soon.
The prize does not have a "use by" date: entitlement to host a round of the game is the Seahorse's in perpetuity.
Perhaps something to look forward to when she needs a gentle respite from the hurly burly of the house move? (Which, it should go without saying, Lady Bracknell hopes will go as smoothly as possible.)
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