Anagrammy Placegetters for July 2019

All the highly-placed anagrams from the July 2019 Anagrammy Awards.

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THE GENERAL CATEGORY

1st - Richard Grantham with:
A primary school string orchestra =
Mostly I hear cat-scraping horrors.

2nd - Adie Pena with:
We hate racism in ~
white Americans.

3rd - Ellie Dent with:
Happy smiles ~
shape my lips.

THE ENTERTAINMENT CATEGORY

1st - Ellie Dent with:
The Tolstoy masterpiece, War and Peace =
A man wrote desolate yet epic chapters.

2nd - Meyran Kraus with:
The new computer-animated version of 'The Lion King' =
We kept none of the old movie's charming nature in it.

3rd - Adie Pena with:
Salvador Dali's "The Persistence of Memory" =
Some time and space is hardly lost forever.

THE TOPICAL CATEGORY

1st - Meyran Kraus with:
Boris Johnson, Conservative Prime Minister of the UK =
Come on... Never. This joke? As in "British version of Trump"?

2nd - Ellie Dent with:
Bojo, the new Prime Minister =
The premier job...it's mine now!

3rd - Rosie Perera with:
"Send her back!" =
Bah, rednecks!

THE PEOPLES NAMES CATEGORY

1st - Meyran Kraus with:
The UK Prime Minister Boris Johnson =
One British joker (he's Trump's minion).

2nd - Mike Mesterton-Gibbons with:
Donald Trump and Boris Johnson =
Horrid spam and London's nutjob

3rd - Richard Grantham with:
Prime Minister Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson =
Firm Brexit fan from hell jeopardised one's pennies.

THE OTHER NAMES CATEGORY

1st - Dharam Khalsa with:
National Geographic magazines =
I gaze at charming lions on a page.

2nd - Adrian Hickford with:
Conservative Party =
Voters' crap naivety

3rd - Meyran Kraus with:
Media-services provider Netflix =
Six eerie films and overpriced TV.

2nd - Adie Pena with:
The Three Greatest Movie Villains of All Time
1. Joker
2. Darth Vader
3. Hannibal Lecter
=
1. Rejected over in Gotham
2. Father that Leia never loved
3. That serial killer in "Lambs."

3rd - Tony Crafter with:
The main reason that Simona Halep had breast reduction surgery =
Truth is, a huge bosom area can rather hinder a lady's tennis tempo.

2nd - Meyran Kraus with:

"Begin at once to live, and count each separate day as a separate life." -- Seneca the Younger

=

- Be cheesy, nice and true;
- Stand up to a scary savage;
- Lie to no one again;
- Feel peace at heart.

3rd - Mike Mesterton-Gibbons with:
Begin at once to live, and count each separate day as a separate life.--Seneca the Younger
=
To see constant rebirth as an idea gave a needy guy ethereal peace.--A Confucian apostle

THE LONG CATEGORY

1st - Tony Crafter with:
SENIORS' ROAD TRIP

Whilst on a road trip, an old couple stopped at a restaurant to have some lunch.

After finishing their meal, they quickly left the table, anxious to push on with their trip.

Exiting the restaurant, the woman wasn't aware that she had left her spectacles on the table inside, and didn't realise this until they'd driven 7.5 miles.

To make matters even worse, they had to drive several miles down the road to find somewhere safe to turn round before they could make the return journey to pick up the glasses.

All the way back, the husband was the classic waspish and tetchy old man. He complained during the whole journey, constantly criticizing his wife's mistake. The more he ranted, the more belligerent he became, not letting up on his whingeing and jabbering for a single minute.

To the wife's relief, they finally reached the restaurant. As she exited the car and dashed in to get her glasses, the old man shouted to her, "Oh, and while you're in there Debra, you might as well get my hat and credit cards!"

=

NO RELEASE

A 75-year-old man was told by his doctor to have a sperm-count check as part of a State Health Assessment. The doctor gave the man a jar and said, 'Take this home and bring a semen sample in tomorrow.'

Early next day the man reappeared in the medic's office clutching the jar, which was as clean and empty as on the previous day!

The doctor asked why, and the ill-at-ease man explained, 'Well, you see, first I tried using my right hand, but nothing. Then I tried using the weaker left hand, but still nothing.

'Then I asked my wife to assist. She tried with her right hand, then her left hand, still nothing. She tried with her mouth too, first with her teeth in, then with her teeth out, but still nothing.

'We even called Carrie Collier from next door, and she tried as well, first with both hands, then an armpit. Carrie even tried squeezing it between her knees, but it was useless.'

'Are you serious, sir?' gasped the doctor, 'You actually called out a female neighbour?'

The elderly man replied, 'Yep. But none of us could get the jar open.'

2nd - Ellie Dent with:
THE CROCODILE WRESTLER

A multi-millionaire living in Darwin, Australia, decided to throw a party and invited all of his wealthy buddies and neighbours.

He also invited Brian, the only aborigine in the neighbourhood.

He held the party around the pool in the backyard of his mansion. Everyone was having a really agreeable time drinking,
dancing, eating prawns and oysters from the barbecue, and flirting.

Then at the height of the party, the millionaire said, "I have a large fifteen-foot, man-eating crocodile in my pool and I will
give a million dollars to anyone who will join him in the pool, OK?"

The words were barely out of his mouth when there was an almighty splash.

Everyone turned around and saw that Brian was in the pool fighting madly with the enormous crocodile, jabbing it in its eyes
with his thumbs, throwing punches, head butting it, getting it in choke-holds, biting its tail and tossing it through the air like
he was some kind of martial arts expert.
~
The water was churning, gurgling frighteningly and splashing everywhere. Both Brian and the crocodile were screaming and
raising hell.

Finally, after what had seemed like an age, the intrepid Brian held, then strangled the unhappier crocodile and let it float to
the top of the private pool, like a dead goldfish. Brian, their hero, a very tired thinnish man, emerged wearily from the pool,
with everybody staring at him in disbelief.

The millionaire said jovially to Brian: "Right, I owe you a million dollars."

"Nah, you're all right, I don't want it," said Brian.

The millionaire said: "I have to give you something. You won the bet. Half a million bucks, how about that?"

"No thanks, I don't want it," Brian insisted.

The millionaire said, "Come on, I insist on giving you something. That was incredibly frightening. A Porsche, a Rolex, some
stock options? There, how about it?"

Again, Brian said "No."

Thoroughly confused, the man asked, "Well then, just what d'you want?"

"I want the b*****d who pushed me in."

3rd - Adie Pena with:
9 Reasons Why Boris Johnson Should Be Prime Minister
1. We need a man with a curious long name
2. He's deemed the lovable, wittiest and blubbery "King of Gaffes" (See his fiery dances!)
3. He'd be very patriotic. (Remember the time he once attempted to dangle in the London sky waving two Union Jack flags?)
4. He campaigned for deepened serious change – Example: Stamp out nasty FGM!
5. A methodical step, he'll decide to provide more cash for schools everywhere
6. With ease, he'll accede to raise the National Insurance contribution threshold
7. More beneficiaries: He'd proceed to make our life more financially comfortable and our seediest, unswept streets safer.
8. Maintained "Barnet fair" (British slang for "hair")
9. Brexit.
=
9 Reasons Why Boris Johnson Should Never Be Prime Minister
1. He carelessly referred to black people as "piccanninnies" with "watermelon smiles"
2. The jughead recited a colonial-era poem in Myanmar
3. He said effing Libya would be great once they've "cleared away the dead bodies"
4. The indifferent man used racist terms to describe Barack Obama
5. He wrote a poem about the Turkish President having sex with an effing goat
6. The ignoramus compared the EU's aims for a superstate to those of effing Hitler
7. He shamelessly insulted the entire city of Liverpool
8. The inconsiderate man compared Muslim women wearing veils to "bank robbers" and "letter boxes"
9. He couldn't decide if he'd done effing cocaine or not.

2nd - Meyran Kraus with:
W.H. Auden's poem 'The More Loving One'

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.

Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.

Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,
Though this might take me a little time.=
An Ode About AlieNation

I'd claim that 'alien' looks vile
For foreign toil (or migrant work):
It hailed from that inane, weird pile
Of quaint 'cliches' or tragic 'quirks';
Folks let it thrive, though (we all knew)
Those tense foundations could spell fear,
Then, please, how would they nettle you -
These latest 'blights' who settle here?
They're spent and haven't slept in days
And we don't give them room or breaks;
Dim mates may bark some racial phrase
But most can't see our big mistake:
If we would doom those from afar
To more strain and damnation,
It absolutely means we are
The true AlieNation.

3rd - Tony Crafter with:

BONFIRE IN THE GARDEN
(November 5th Mishap)

A note came through our door, delivered by the local scouts,
It read: ‘We collect waste paper, so please don’t throw yours out!
‘Just leave it on your doorstep (tied in bundles if preferred)
‘On each alternate Friday, starting May the twenty-third.’

I read it to my wife and moaned, “I can’t be faffed with that,”
She glared at me and growled, “Oh, yes you can and that's a fact!
“It helps them earn much-needed funds,” she said with huffs and sighs,
“You should be sympathetic to such youthful enterprise.”

Now, friends, if you know Brenda, then you'll know she rules by fear,
Her laser-glare bored through me and I answered, “OK, dear.”
So every week I bound them up with string (for extra grip)
Old Daily Mails and paper bags and losing lotto slips.

I left them on the doorstep on the twenty-third of May,
But, contrary to promises, they did not call that day
They did not call both times in June, nor both times in July,
Then didn't call the next month and the stack had grown sky-high

September came, the boy scouts didn’t, nor October too,
And all the while the stack of papers grew and grew and grew.
On Guy Fawkes night I huffed, “No more! My patience now is shot;
I’ll build a bonfire in the garden - burn the bloody lot!”

All evening it took to heft that paper through the house,
And all the while I muttered muffled curses at my spouse;
For it was she who'd said we should support the local scouts,
As far as I’m concerned they’re more a bunch of feckless louts.

When finally the fire was made, I gave a great big sigh,
That looming pile of paper was well over ten feet high!
In other gardens down the road, the fireworks had begun;
If other folk were at it, hell, then I should join the fun!
~
My waiting pile was ready, but before I struck my match...
That gallon of stale petrol in the shed should help it catch!
I poured the fuel upon the fire and lit it at the base,
Woomph! it went and singed the brows and lashes off my face.

Fiery sheets of paper fluttered way up in the sky,
Then fell to ground, still burning, on my neighbours' plots nearby.
At Number 5 the lid was off their jumbo firework box,
Some hot ash landed in it and set off the bloody lot!

There were Catherine wheels and rockets, some Roman candles too,
And things that screamed and things that banged and things that went woo-hoo!
A rocket soared into the shed of Cyril Jaye next door,
Where cylinders of butane for his caravan were stored…

The mighty blast that followed blew the roof clean off his shed,
And vicious wooden splinters flew like missiles past my head,
Huge lumps of molten roofing-tar dripped into woods nearby,
Igniting ancient undergrowth where everything was dry.

The greedy flames jumped up the trees and turned the grey sky red,
Then danced up spindly branches, melting power lines overhead,
As all the lights went out in every house in our parade;
I grabbed my torch and ran inside to ring the fire brigade.

As I waited in the outhouse, having made my fateful call,
A knock came on the door, just at the far end of the hall,
I turned my torch towards the sound, and through the frosted glass,
Saw silhouettes of uniforms; My firefighters, at last!

I rushed to let them in but tripped up on the hallway rug,
My head bounced off a wall then hit the oak door with a thud;
I weakly reached to open it, and looked up through the blur…
Two boy scouts said, “Hello, we’ve come to collect your paper, sir!”

(Anon)

THE RUDE CATEGORY

1st - Christopher Sturdy with:
In desperation for the bog =
Need for a big shite, pronto!

2nd - Meyran Kraus with:
As this lady seems to wink at me in a dream... ~
I am then awake and my mattress is soiled. :(

3rd - David Bourke with:
Frogmore Cottage in Windsor ~
does for moronic ginger twat!