In Competition No. 3327 you were invited to submit a rough resumé of the plot of a Shakespeare play such as might have been attemptedby a well-known fictional character of your choice. Literary sleuths featured prominently in the entry, with Poirot, Miss Marple and Sherlock Holmes all making eye-catching appearances. A commendation to George Simmers for Professor McGonagall’s take on Macbeth and to John O’Byrne, who also gave us the Scottish Play, but through the eyes of Molly Bloom. The winners nab £25.

Prince Hamlet is a melankoly dane who rite his girlfrend soppy poetry, chiz. He hav been played by many grate british actors from shaxpeere’s time to the modern da. When his father’s ghost apear to him and sa, ‘I hav been murdered. Avenge me’, he put on an antik disposishun, which is danish for acting madd as a hatter. Soon he stab his girlfrend’s father, who was hiding behind a bedroom curtin. This drive the girl to drown herself after throing about many flowers.

   Hamlet’s unkle, the new king, is now married to Hamlet’s mother and hav plans to kil her son. The king tell the dead girlfrend’s brother to fite a dule with Hamlet and cheet by using a poisen sword, which kil them both. Hamlet’s mother die by drinking poisen wine, and he stab his unkle before expiring himself. It is a masterpeece of british lit.

Chris O’Carroll/Nigel Molesworth’s Hamlet

To summarise in a brief synapsis, this tragic play concerns a group of conspirators jealous of Julius Seizure’s recent victories in warfarin. Enlisting his trusted friend, Brutal, they arrange to illuminate him on the ides of March. Seizure’s wife, Copernicus, fears for his life but her husband, being a proud and pampas man, ignores her. On the fateful day the conspirators huddle round him plunging their sharp diggers into his flesh. ‘Et tu Brutal,’ he cries then dies. Against his better judgement, Brutal allows Mark Antony to deliver a euphemism in praise of Seizure in which he says Brutal is an honourable man implying the apposite. The crowd, swayed by his oratorio, goes to war and each of the conspirators is viscously slaughtered. Finally Seizure is vindicated as a great leader whilst Brutal, at his internment, is praised alone among the felons for being ‘the knobbliest Roman of them all’.

Alan Millard/Mrs Malaprop’s Julius Caesar

Denmark – old king – dead – for a ducat – poisoned by brother – returns as spectre – prince hot and bothered – plots against uncle – uncle has wed corpse’s bride – shocking business – son plots also against mother – rum affair – feigns lunacy – talks in riddles – snubs his young lady – most affecting – speaks to himself – very particular speeches – hell in a handsaw or hawk or some such – self-destruction abominated – praised as well – stabs his lady’s father – through arras – painful – death – prince puts play on – fustian stuff – Niobe’s tears – about poisoner husband – tactless – sent to England ha! ha! – tricks ’em easy – splendid graveyard – jester’s skull – capital business – young lady has drowned – slipped – pushed – who can tell – mad as a rat – method in it, sir – now for vengeance – plenty of it – death by rapier – poisoned tip – unfair – stepfather poisons mother – son stabs stepfather – and poisons too – doubly sure – excellent thinking – flights of angels – divinity – field of corpses – tragic – very.

Bill Greenwell/Alfred Jingle’s Hamlet

Shakespeare? I went into him pretty thoroughly in my youth, Casaubon, and heartily recommend The Taming of the Shrew. I forget the precise details, of course, but the gist is the thing, what? Lucentio cannot marry (and so on) his Bianca until his sister Katherina is married. Enter Petrucio, a persistent (mark that) suitor, who takes, so to speak, the proverbial shrew by the horn and marries Katherina after a degree of to-and-fro, you understand. It being Shakespeare, there’s a good deal more to it than that; characters cross-dress and impersonate one another and so forth, all tremendous fun if you follow it, apparently. The point is, however, at least if I remember aright, that you cannot tame a shrew. Or that you can if you put your mind to it, it’s been thirty years since last I saw a production and, besides, Dorothea is hardly shrewish.

Adrian Fry/Mr Brooke’s The Taming of the Shrew

I guess Shakespeare was very interested in cliffs. Symbolically, I mean. It’s what you fall from. And Mr Antolini had me riding for a fall. So it’s like a conjunction of fate that I found myself reading King Lear. It’s a pretty good play, and at first you don’t have to guess who the phoneys and hypocrites are. They’re right there doing it in front of you. But it gets complex, kind of cross-wired. If the King laps up compliments but punishes candour, what does that say about him? Further example: Edgar kids his blind father he was pushed off a cliff but caught and all. Can a lie serve the truth? That’s the question. Schoolteachers, prostitutes, ducks in Central Park, epiphanies for sure, but when you consider it they all might need catching any time. I guess that’s what Shakespeare meant and he was no phoney.

Basil Ransome-Davies/Holden Caulfield’s King Lear

Macbeth, basically, wiz this wuss, no a proper hard man like, say, yours truly. Ah wouldnae listen tae auld women out on some stetch o’ heathland prophesyin’ what I wanted tae hear, even if they wiz right about Macbeth becomin’ Thane of Cawdor or whatever. Worse, he listens tae his foakin’ wife when she nags him tae off King Duncan and, fair play, backs him tae the hilt when he does. Macbeth goes all tae pieces after, having anyone kilt who stands agin’ his chances of stoppin’ on as King. Gutless, always back an’ forth sniffin’ after wifey or witches beggin’ fae reassurance, the witches reckinin’ he’ll be safe ‘til he cannae see the wood fae the trees or vice versa. Well, the copse comes tae Macbeth, Macduff, a proper tough guy Shakespeare’s play should ha’ been aboot, decapitates the softie after wifey’s offed herself. An’ rightly so, Ah’m sayin’.

Russell Chamberlain/Francis Begbie’s Macbeth

No. 3330: Not likely

You are invited to submit some improbable forecasts, in verse, for the year ahead. Please email entries of up to 16 lines to lucy@spectator.co.uk by midday on 27 December.