In Competition No. 2691 you were invited to submit toe-curlingly bad analogies:
The first five winners, printed below, pocket £18 each; the rest get £10.
The state of the bathroom could only bring to mind the surface of a remote planet in which dungheaps and memphitic swamps co-existed with the entire toiletries and fragrances range of Galeries Lafayette.
The accountant had the world-weary air of a ferret that had been up so many trouser legs that life held no more surprises.
How to describe this novel? Picture it as The Aeniad meets Othello meets Moby Dick meets Peter Rabbit meets Mein Kampf meets the Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus meets The Highway Code. In that ballpark, anyway.
His morals were as twisted as an expensive Sicilian corkscrew that had been used as a way of extracting the pith from a bad apple before being driven over by an Eddie Stobart truck.
The rest are just as
good bad - i.e. #6:
She spoke as throatily as if a frog and its family had got into her throat and smoked a few packets of Peter Stuyvesant before growing claws and scratching at the inside of her thorax.
And my favorite (after the ferret/accountant):
The sea was agitated, like an old man demanding directions in a library as his wife is telling him to put the batteries back in his hearing aid.