I appreciate that not everybody is truly absorbed by Gate Ventures plc (GATE). However, using the site that I imagine works, I cannot find any evidence that any return of capital issued has been made to Companies House. Perhaps a representative of the youth of today knows where to look. If so, he/she is welcome to contact me and put me right on cawkwell@btinternet.com. Incidentally, The latest fund-raise (concluded after Gate departed this quoted life), claimed to be £9m in convertible loan notes, might or might not have occurred. But the idea that fraudsters would keep the cash in the company for more than a day is risible.
*****
Competition corner: Spectator readers were invited to offer a verse or two as the mouth of some put upon pet. I toyed with a hamster and a gerbil – forever turning a mill-wheel but I think you’ll agree that rhyming either of these is not easy. The winning entry was:
I’m a goldfish that’s dejected
that my habitat’s infected
and is neither fit to swim in nor to drink.
And I think my owner oughta
come and change my stagnant water
which is so full of detritus
That I’m blinded and I might as
well be swimming in pea soup or ink.
For it’s hard to find my way round
in my pitch-black piscine playground
without damage from the mini-clockwork shark
and the sharply pointed anchor
plus the jagged plastic tanker,
and – enough to make you clench your
cheeks – my owner’s upper denture
glowing ghostly phosphorescent in the dark.
Anyway, the next competition to be highlighted in the results section features a popular food of, say, twenty-five plus years ago. I toyed with Viennetta and Black Forest Gateau but, as ever in this department, my brother’s wife came up trumps with:
Food Nostalgia
Sort of food, sort of sonnet
Last night I dreamed of neutral cheese,
Cut into cubes (too big to bite)
Stuck on a stick, a party wheeze,
Mixing convenience and delight.
To bland let`s add exotic taste!
As heavy syrup dribbles down,
Tinned pineapple is interlaced
And stuck into a grapefruit crown.
The dream grows darker now. That stick
Conveniently sharp of tip
Enacts a fifties Hitchcock trick:
It stabs the eater on the lip.
Sugar, fat, a dangerous spike,
A taste free zone – what`s not to like?
For my part, I have told her that the prize cheque of £30 is as good as on its way.
*****
Finally, I bet you, dear readers, that hitherto you have been unaware that GROLIIES stands for Guardian readers of little intelligence in ethnic skirts. There’s a lot of Groliies about.