Keep the Giraffe Burning

It is time again to announce the results of last week's competition, and to thank all those busy little Riddled readers who sent in their entries.

The competition was (as any fule kno) to suggest a new flag for the People's Sovereign and Surrealist Republic of Cæsura, for when we declare the independence of stately Riddled Manor. This will happen Real Soon Now, as soon as we finish the paperwork -- or consume too many pints of Gleamhound's Sobriety Draught in the course of Pycnogonid Racing Night at the Old Entomologist -- whichever comes first.

As always, the judges were impressed by the creativity of the submissions... if not by their originality. Another Kiwi was sure that he had seen two of the entries previously, and had to retire to the Chaise Longue with a tall glass of gin to steady his nerves.

Shame on you, Mr V. N. Throgmorton! There is no place in the People's Republic for plagiarised flag designs, except when we are stealing Myles na gCopaleen jokes perhaps in the rubbish bin along with that sternly-worded legal missive from the Musée Magritte.

Then Greenish Hugh transcended the quaint tradition for flags to be assembled out of fabric, instead carving one from a piece of pavement that he had torn up from the back alley while searching for the beach. HA HA it is a flagstone.

Novel media and stone-based artistic practice are all very well but the entry is not easy to hoist, and the flagpole bends alarmingly when you do, so I think we will not be adopting Hugh's design.

"A flag-ship works perfectly," said Space-Time Eddy; "You just need a thicker flagpole."
But does it flutter in the breeze? DOES IT BOG-ROLL.

At this point the attention of the judging committee began to flag (as it were) and we turned to more interesting concerns, like choosing a form of motorised armour to equip the People's Republic Defensive Forces. We settled on fish-tanks.