Jim Gleeson, 47, of Madison, Wisconsin, outwrangled thousands of other prose cowboys in the 2007 Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest with this convoluted opening sentence to a nonexistent novel: "Gerald began – but was interrupted by a piercing whistle which cost him ten per cent of his hearing permanently, as it did everyone else in a ten-mile radius of the eruption, not that it mattered much because for them ‘permanently’ meant the next ten minutes or so until buried by searing lava or suffocated by choking ash – to pee."

Scott Rice, an English professor at San Jose State, called Gleeson’s entry a "syntactic atrocity." Rice has organized the contest since founding it in 1982.

By way of comparison, here is the 1983 winner, authored by Gail Cain of San Francisco, California: "The camel died quite suddenly on the second day, and Selena fretted sulkily and, buffing her already impeccable nails – not for the first time since the journey began – pondered snidely if this would dissolve into a vignette of minor inconveniences like all the other holidays spent with Basil."

It is understandable that a camel’s premature death would provoke a sulk. No one has a problem with this. Equally, a cultured man or woman under stress might easily buff nails that are already perfect. Where Ms Cain strays into Bulwer-Lytton territory is the wrap-around complexity of it all. And where she departs again is on our recognition that Bulwer-Lytton was one of the most popular writers of his time. His memory is paradoxically evoked when we contemplate anyone, once greatly respected and admired, who is – like most Canadian Prime Ministers – subsequently forgotten.

A small prize is incidentally offered (at MensaMag editor’s sole discretion) for the person who best describes Basil.

(idea by patricia almost)

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