The Special Category

Anagrammy Awards > Voting Page - Special Category


An optional explanation about the anagram in green, the subject is in black, the anagram is in red.

[an error occurred while processing this directive]

901

MONKTON HALL RESTAURANT.

A group of 40-year-old girlfriends were discussing where they should meet for dinner.

Finally, it was agreed upon that they should meet at Monkton Hall restaurant in Miami because the waiters wore tight pants and had nice bums.

10 years later at 50 years of age, the group once again discussed where they should meet for dinner. Finally, it was agreed upon that they should meet at Monkton Hall restaurant in Miami because the home-cooked food was very good and the selection of wines was very good also.

10 years later at 60 years of age, the group once again discussed where they should meet for dinner. Finally, it was agreed upon that they should meet at Monkton Hall restaurant in Miami, mainly because they could dine there in peace and quiet and it had an exceptionally beautiful view of the ocean.

10 years later, at 70 years of age, the group once again discussed where they should meet for dinner. Finally, it was agreed upon that they should meet at Monkton Hall restaurant in Miami because the establishment was now wheelchair accessible and they even had an elevator.

10 years later, at 80 years of age, the group once again discussed where they should meet for dinner. Finally, it was agreed upon that they should meet at Monkton Hall restaurant in Miami because they had never been there before.

AN ASTUTE DEALER

Several men were in the changing room of a golf club at Fort Lauderdale. Suddenly, a cell-phone on a seat rang and one of the guys engaged the hands-free function and started to chat.

Everyone else in the room paused to listen.

MAN: "Yes?"

WOMAN: "Sweetheart, it's Susie. Are you at the club?"

MAN: "Yes."

WOMAN: "I am at a Lauderdale shopping centre and I have found an utterly beautiful Burberry leather coat. It's only $1,100. Can I buy it?"

MAN: "Yes, sure Susie. Go ahead if you like it that much."

WOMAN: "Really? Gee, thanks sweetie! I also called in at a Mercedes dealership and looked at their new 2010 models. There was a cherry-red sedan there that I really loved."

MAN: "I see. How much is it?"

WOMAN: "$74,600."

MAN: "Yes, let's get it; but for that price I'd require all the added accessories as standard."

WOMAN: "Super! Er... there is one other thing, dear... The house that we were after last year is on the market again. They are asking eight-hundred and fifty-thousand dollars."

MAN: "Well, go ahead and offer them 800K. They'll probably accept that. If they don't reduce, we can easily afford the extra fifty. It is an unusually fair price."

WOMAN: "Great! See you later, sweetheart! I love you so much."

MAN: "'Bye Susie. I love you too."

The man hung up. The other guys in the changing room were staring at him in open-mouthed astonishment... He smiled and said:

"Anyone know who this phone belongs to?"


[an error occurred while processing this directive]

902

You were Spain (by Nicki Ward)

You were Spain
You were the switch back curves
From the mountain to the sea
Hairpins holding back the olive groves

You were Spain
And we flew through you
Noise some witches
Riding our motorbikes
Riding our broomstick Vespas Like virgins
- Knees pressed firmly to hold our place

You were Spain
And your words made sense
Ananas y Naranjas Fruits made real by closeness to their roots
And your villages
Clung to the mountain by their high mountain names
Binaraitx, Andratx, Fornalutx
Or lapped low and lovely to the sea of Soller
- Puerto de Soller

You were Spain
And we rode the San Franciscan tram
Along the beachfront
- And everyone smoked
The black tabac
The cheap filterless Fundadors
More foul than French
Burning our nostrils with their gunpowder stench

And someone young
- Played guitar
And someone young clapped
And someone young clapped
And someone young clapped
And we knew that this was perfect
And we knew that every other flamenco
Would be spoiled forever
We knew that every other flamenco would always be somehow wrong
Painted on velvet

Y sonrió Todos sonrió salvajemente
And we smiled
We all smiled wildly
- And we saw their
Tears streaming down cheeks that were clenched with joy
And we smiled at their simple sentimentality
And then we tasted the surprising salt on our own lips
And we smiled again in our community
And we Were Spain

This was England (by David Bourke)

This was England
Our green, pleasant land
Full of meadows, woodland views,
Steeples, swallows,
Countryside picnics,
Shakespeare, Dickens,
Winston Churchill, Vera Lynn...
By jove! Jolly hockey sticks, and all that!

Weep, as a country,
Although never perfect...ah no, far from it!
But dignified, mannered, cultured,
Has then metamorphosised
Into an honourless, violated new nation.

Ruined by materialism,
Instant gratification,
And celebrity worship.

Slowly downward,
Weakened, withered, wasted,
Overpopulated.

Lament, as we unthinkingly sleepwalk into
A communist-fascist tyranny,
A Euro police state.

Men and women, in the World Wars
Heroes and heroines,
Who gave their lives.
For what?

For drunken, promiscuous, vulgar scum,
Hooded vermin, encouraged by the Welfare State,
To reproduce, breed, spawn,
In notorious, rundown sink estates.

Everywhere, shame,
More of the same.
Simply deadwood,
Third-generation unemployed.
Degenerate, with a deep sense of entitlement.

The overpowering stench of decay,
Apathy,
A nation in terminal decline.

Big Brother looks out,
His anonymous digital eye,
Sweeping across a desperate grey landscape,
Snooping on us all.
Conform, you automatons!

Meanwhile 'honourable' members wallow in luxury,
Corrupt, greedy bloodsuckers
'Expenses' paid by the taxpayer
- The working man.

Oh, joy!
Eyes heavenwards,
How we mourn for tomorrow
In what was England.


[an error occurred while processing this directive]

903

BALLAD OF DAVY CROCKETT
By
George Bruns and Tom W. Blackburn

Born on a mountain top in Tennessee
Greenest state in the land of the free
Raised in the woods so's he knew every tree
He killed him a b'ar when he was only three

Davy, Davy Crockett, king of the wild frontier

Fought single-handed thru the Injun war
'Till the Creeks was whipped and the peace was in store
And while he was a'handlin' this risky chore
Made hisself a legend forever more

Davy, Davy Crockett, the man who don't know fear

When he lost his love, his grief was gall
In his heart, he wanted to leave it all
And lose hisself in the forest tall
But he answered, instead, his country's call

Davy, Davy Crockett, the choice of the whole frontier

He went off to Congress and served a spell
Fixin' up the government and laws as well
Took over Washington, so I hear tell
And patched up a crack in the Liberty Bell

Davy, Davy Crockett, seein' his duty clear

When he came home, his politickin' done
Why, the big western march had just begun
So he packed his gear and his trusty gun
And lit out a'grinnin' to follow the sun

Davy, Davy Crockett, leadin' the pioneer

His land is the biggest, his land is the best
From grassy plains to the mountain crest
He's ahead of us all and meetin' the test
And a'follern' his legend right into the west

Davy, Davy Crockett, king of the wild frontier
Davy, Davy Crockett, king of the wild frontier

THE STIRRING STORY OF DAVID BECKHAM.
(England's Talented Soccer Legend).

Born in East London, down in Leytonstone,
That's the place that he first called home,
Often you'd find him 'fore he was grown
Kickin' a ball 'gainst the wall on his own.

Little, Davy Beckham, son of Leytonstone.

ManUnited were his favourite team,
Davy was a fan, like his father had been;
They watched the lad and they liked what they seen,
Then signed Dave on (he was only fifteen!)

Worthy, David Beckham they liked what they'd seen.

When he grew up he looked just like a god,
Stunning and dishy, cor the lucky sod!
Fit, tall, straight as an iron rod,
Strong jaw, cropped hair and an athletic bod.

Stunning David Beckham, cor the lucky sod.

Playing for United nearly every week,
He really reached his professional peak,
Then all the stories began to leak,
He loved the Spice Girl with thin chiselled cheeks.

Lovelorn, David Beckham, loves Victoria.

Next thing we see, in print, across the news,
He's having this fling with siren Rebecca Loos,
Then, when we're wondering if it's all true,
Of yet another fling he stands accused!

Frightful, David Beckham, tut, tut, you love rat.

Years have passed, now he's starting new,
All's forgiven, it's forgotten too,
Now he's revered - what a so-different view!
The proper role-model for all that's true.

Winner, David Beckham, the trusty soccer star.
Winner, David Beckham, the trusty soccer star!


[an error occurred while processing this directive]

904

Fall gently, snowflakes
Cover me with white
Cold icy kisses and
Let me rest tonight.

(Maya Angelou)

LIFE

If sleet clouds in sky, God
make heaven wet, how
each glinting crystal
melts to womanly tears.


[an error occurred while processing this directive]

905

OLD ACCOUNTANTS never die; they just lose their balance.

OLD ACTORS never die; they just drop a part.

OLD ACTUARIES never die; they just get broken down by age and sex.

OLD ALCOHOLICS never die; they just lose their spirits.

OLD ARCHERS never die; they just bow and quiver.

OLD ARCHITECTS never die; they just lose their structure.

OLD ARTISTS never die; they just get the brush-off.

OLD BALLOONISTS never die; they just get higher and higher.

OLD BANKERS never die; they just lose their interest.

OLD BASEBALL PLAYERS never die; they just get pitched.

OLD BASKETBALL players never die; they just go on dribbling.

OLD BEEKEEPERS never die; they just buzz off.

OLD BINGO PLAYERS never die; they just wait until their number comes up.

OLD BLASTING TECHNICIANS never die; they just lose their spark.

OLD BLONDES never fade; they just dye away.

OLD BOOKKEEPERS never die; they just lose their figures.

OLD BOOTLEGGERS never die; they just keep still.

OLD BOSSES never die, as much as you might want them to!

OLD BOTANISTS never die; they just wither away.

OLD BOWLERS never die; they just end up down in the gutter.

OLD BREAD MANUFACTURERS never die; they just lose their dough.

OLD BRICKLAYERS never die; they just throw in the trowel.

OLD BUREAUCRATS never die; they'll just waste away.

OLD BURGLARS never die; they just steal away.

OLD CARDIAC SURGEONS never die; they just get bypassed.

OLD CARTOONISTS never die; they just go into a state of suspended animation.

OLD CASHIERS never die; they just calmly check out.

OLD CHAUFFEURS never die; they just lose their drive.

OLD CHICKENS never die; they just get fried.

OLD CHINESE COOKS never die; they just wok away.

OLD CLEANING PEOPLE never die; they just kick the bucket.

OLD CLOTHIERS never die; they just lose their shirts.

OLD COMPUTER PROGRAMMERS never die; they just lose their memories.

OLD COUPON CLIPPERS never die; they just expire.

OLD COWBOYS never die; they are just de-ranged.

OLD DAIRYMEN never die; they just get butter and butter.

OLD DAREDEVILS never die; they just get discouraged.

OLD DEANS never die; they just lose their faculties.

OLD DENTISTS never die; they just get down in the mouth.

OLD DOCTORS never die; they just go to the hospital.

OLD DOCTORS never die; they just lose their patience.

OLD DOUGHBOYS never die; they just get rolled out.

OLD DRIVING INSTRUCTORS never die; they just come to a full stop.

OLD EDITORS never die; they just rewrite the text.

OLD EGYPTIAN TOURISTS never die; they just go see-Nile.

OLD ELECTRICIANS never die; they just can't make connections.

OLD ELECTRICIANS never die; they just lose their contact.

OLD ELECTRICIANS never die; they just re-volt.

OLD ENGINEERS never die; they just lose their bearings.

OLD ENUMERATORS never die; they just lose their census.

OLD EXTERMINATORS never die; they just bug out.

OLD FARMERS never die; they just go to seed.

OLD FIREFIGHTERS never die; they just go to blazes.

OLD FISHERMEN never die; they just smell that way.

OLD FORGERS never die, they just leave no trace.

OLD FROGS never die; but they do croak.

OLD FULLBACKS never die; they just kick off.

OLD GARDENERS never die; they just spade away.

OLD GARDENERS never die; they just push up daisies.

OLD GEOMETRY TEACHERS never die; they just go off on a tangent.

OLD GLASS never dies; it just gets smashed.

OLD GOLFERS never die; they just lose their balls.

OLD GOLFERS never die; they just putter away.

OLD GOSSIPS never die; they just lose their confidants.

OLD GOVERNMENT EMPLOYEES never die; they just work as if they had.

OLD GRUNGE ROCKERS never die; they just cut their hair and nobody recognizes them.

OLD GUNS never die; they just get loaded.

OLD HIKERS never die; they just get the boot.

OLD HUNTERS never die; they just run out of ammo.

OLD HOOKERS never die, they just get laid off.

OLD HUMAN CANNONBALLS never die, they just get fired.

OLD HUNTERS never die, they just stay loaded.

OLD HYPOCHONDRIACS never die; they just lose their grippe.

OLD INVESTORS never die; they just roll over.

OLD JANITORS never die; they just get swept up.

OLD JOCKEYS never die; they just go horse.

OLD JUDGES never die; they just lose their appeal.

OLD JOURNALISTS never die; they just get de-pressed.

OLD METEORS never die; they just burn up.

OLD PIANO PLAYERS never die; they just lose their keys

OLD PINBALL PLAYERS never die; they might flip and tilt.

OLD WOMEN'S HAIRDRESSERS never fade; they just curl up and dye.

OLD ASTRONAUTS never die; they just go off hitchhiking to other worlds.

OLD AUTO MECHANICS never die; they just retire.

OLD BANJO PLAYERS never die, though they just can no longer resonate.

OLD BARBERS never die; they just become cut-ups.

OLD BICYCLISTS never die; they just go downhill.

OLD BIOLOGISTS never die; they just ferment away.

OLD BLACKJACK DEALERS never die; they just gamble their life away.

OLD BOOKBINDERS never die; they just come unglued.

OLD BOOKSELLERS never die; they just go out of print.

OLD BUBBLY MAJORETTES never die; they just parade away.

OLD BUFF BODYBUILDERS never die; they just stop doing legs.

OLD BUFFALO RESIDENTS never die; they just shuffle off.

OLD CHECK WRITERS never die; they are just backdated.

OLD DATELESS BISEXUALS never die, though they double their chances for that weekly date on Saturday night.

OLD EXECUTIVES never die; they are duly executed.

OLD GASBAG POLITICIANS never die; they just run once too often.

OLD GEEKS never die, but they just cerebrate anyway.

OLD GOTHS never die; they just need less heavy makeup.

OLD JEWELERS never die; they just lose their shine.

OLD JOURNALISTS never die; they just get de-pressed.

OLD JUDO PLAYERS never die; they just flip out.

OLD JUGGLERS never die; they just drop their balls.

OLD KINGS never die; they just get throne away.

OLD LAWN CARE WORKERS never die; they just recede.

OLD LAWYERS never die; they just loose their briefs.

OLD LIBRARIANS never die; they just close the book.

OLD LIMBO DANCERS never die; they just go under.

OLD MAGICIANS never die; they just disappear.

OLD MARINERS never die; they just don't get the drift.

OLD MATH TEACHERS never die; they just disintegrate.

OLD MATHEMATICIANS never die; they just lose their functions.

OLD MUFFLERS never die; they just get exhausted.

OLD MUSICIANS never die; they just decompose.

OLD NITPICKERS never die; they just feel lousy.

OLD NOTRE DAME BOYS never die; they just get hunchbacked.

OLD OFFICE CLERKS never die; they just get de-filed.

OLD OWLS never die; they just don't give a hoot.

OLD PERSONNEL AGENTS never die; they just get hire and hire.

OLD PHOTOGRAPHERS never die; they just lose their focus.

OLD PIG BREEDERS never die; they just get disgruntled.

OLD PILOTS never die; they just take off.

OLD POKER PLAYERS never die; they just cash in their chips.

OLD POLICEMEN never die; they just cop out.

OLD POSTMEN never die; they just lose the zip.

OLD PRINCIPALS never die; they just lose their faculties.

OLD PRINTERS never die; they're just not the type.

OLD PROCTOLOGISTS never die; they just butt out.

OLD PRODUCERS never die; they just change the plot ending.

OLD PROGRAMMERS never die; they just go to bits.

OLD QUARTERBACKS never die; they just pass away.

OLD RABBIS never die; they just get grey at the temples.

OLD REFRESHMENT VENDORS never die; they just make a concession.

OLD REFRIGERATOR MANUFACTURERS never die; they just lose their cool.

OLD ROCK HOUNDS never die; they just slowly petrify.

OLD ROCKERS never die; they just end up at that royal Buckingham Palace.

OLD SAILORS never die; they just get a little dingy.

OLD SCHOOLS never die; they just lose their principals.

OLD SCHOOLTEACHERS never die; they just lose their class.

OLD SECRETARIES never die; they just get short-handed.

OLD SEERS never die; they just lose their vision.

OLD SEWAGE WORKERS never die; they just waste away.

OLD SOLDIERS never die...just the very unfortunate young ones do.

OLD STATUES never die; they just get busted.

OLD STEELMAKERS never die; they just lose their temper.

OLD STOCKBROKERS never die; they just lose their assets.

OLD STUDENTS never die; they just get de-graded.

OLD SURGEONS never die; they just can't cut it anymore.

OLD TANNERS never die; they just go into hiding.

OLD TIRE INSTALLERS never die; they just go down the tubes.

OLD TRASH HAULERS never die; they just get down in the dumps.

OLD TREE SURGEONS never die; they just pine away.

OLD UPHOLSTERERS never die; they just can't recover.

OLD VAUDEVILLIANS never die; they are just more dramatic.

OLD VETERINARIANS never die; they just go to the dogs.

OLD VIOLINISTS never die; they just become unstrung.

OLD WHEELS never die; they just retire.

OLD WRESTLERS never die; they just lose their grip.

OLD ZOOLOGISTS never die; they just turn roguish and grizzly.

Last:

OLD TRANSCRIPTIONISTS never die, though they get abbreviated today by Electronic Health Records!


[an error occurred while processing this directive]

906

[The Keats sonnet is anagrammed into 4 short poems about the 4 seasons that also contain an acrostic constraint, displayed below.]

(a sonnet written by John Keats)

Four Seasons fill the measure of the year;
There are four seasons in the mind of man:
He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear
Takes in all beauty with an easy span:
He has his Summer, when luxuriously
Spring's honey'd cud of youthful thought he loves
To ruminate, and by such dreaming high
Is nearest unto heaven: quiet coves
His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings
He furleth close; contented so to look
On mists in idleness - to let fair things
Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook.
He has his Winter too of pale misfeature,
Or else he would forego his mortal nature.


                                   my blissful murmured rhymes
                                   hail August's joyful noons;
                                   how sad to think these times
                                   shall have to die so soon!
                                   the sunshine's sheen of gold
                                   shall heat us in the cold.
shy heathers in a field                                                  a gale across the sea
provoke a tune of larks,                                           upsets this quaint milieu,
rehashing songs they trilled                                            but I'm full of esprit
in any chosen park.                                                  when I sit here with you;
no one can hush these sounds:                                the weather's not too grim
gay March's wealths abound.                                      for penning you a hymn.
                                   each new, obnoxious rain
                                   fell heavier, it seems,
                                   yet none of these are banes,
                                   as Nature has a scheme:
                                   these hints of future fruits
                                   now dawn in nurtured roots.


[an error occurred while processing this directive]

907

Autumn sunlight streams
Through unblocked western window
Where two towers stood.

"Tumultuous," we moaned,
"The worn wristwatch on the ground
Broke strengthless widows."