The Great Game, in Not-So-Great Writing

Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest: 2005 Results, compiled by the Department of English and Comparative Literature, San Jose State University, downloaded 30 July 2005, (from Slashdot).

A post for the Hindoostan/British/Great Game loving folk over at Coming Anarchy

The Worst Writing of 2005

Ken Aclin (Shreveport, LA ):

India, which hangs like a wet washcloth from the towel rack of Asia, presented itself to Tex as he landed in Delhi (or was it Bombay?), as if it mattered because Tex finally had an idea to make his mark and fortune and that idea was a chain of steak houses to serve the millions and he wondered, as he deplaned down the steep, shiny, steel steps, why no one had thought of it before.

Eric Winter (Minneapolis, MN):

It was high noon in the jungles of South India when I began to recognize that if we didn’t find water for our emus soon, it wouldn’t be long before we would be traveling by foot; and with the guerilla warriors fast on our heals, I was starting to regret my decision to use poultry for transportation.

David Lindley (Sheffield, England)

Anyone with a less refined air of unabashed insouciance would not have been able to so easily slip through the security cordon, charm their way past the armed guards, breeze through the marbled reception area and blithely enter the inner sanctum of the UN Security Council and there successfully negotiate an end to all conflict in the Middle East, but that was the sort of man Nigel Simpkins was.

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