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A Nonsense Anthology by Collected by Carolyn Wells

C >> Collected by Carolyn Wells >> A Nonsense Anthology

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III.

His rival, but in what?
Wherein did the deceased Akhoond of Swat
Kotal's lamented Moolla late,
As it were, emulate?
Was it in the tented field
With crash of sword on shield,
While backward meaner champions reeled
And loud the tom-tom pealed?
Did they barter gash for scar
With the Persian scimetar
Or the Afghanistee tulwar,
While loud the tom-tom pealed--
While loud the tom-tom pealed,
And the jim-jam squealed,
And champions less well heeled
Their war-horses wheeled
And fled the presence of these mortal big bugs o'
the field?
Was Kotal's proud citadel--
Bastioned, and demi-luned,
Beaten down with shot and shell
By the guns of the Akhoond?
Or were wails despairing caught, as
The burghers pale of Swat
Cried in panic, "Moolla ad Portas"?
--Or what?
Or made each in the cabinet his mark
Kotalese Gortschakoff, Swattish Bismarck?
Did they explain and render hazier
The policies of Central Asia?
Did they with speeches from the throne,
Wars dynastic,
Ententes cordiales,
Between Swat and Kotal;
Holy alliances,
And other appliances
Of statesmen with morals and consciences
plastic
Come by much more than their own?
Made they mots, as "There to-day are
No more Himalayehs,"
Or, if you prefer it, "There to-day are
No more Himalaya"?
Oi, said the Akhoond, "Sah,
L'Etat de Swat c'est moi"?
Khabu, did there come great fear
On thy Khabuldozed Ameer
Ali Shere?

Or did the Khan of far
Kashgar
Tremble at the menace hot
Of the Moolla of Kotal,
"I will extirpate thee, pal
Of my foe the Akhoond of Swat"?
Who knows
Of Moolla and Akhoond aught more than I did?
Namely, in life they rivals were, or foes,
And in their deaths not very much divided?
If any one knows it,
Let him disclose it!

_George Thomas Lanigan_.




RUSSIAN AND TURK

There was a Russian came over the sea,
Just when the war was growing hot;
And his name it was Tjalikavakaree-
Karindobrolikanahudarot-
Shibkadirova-
Ivarditztova
Sanilik
Danerik
Varagobhot.

A Turk was standing upon the shore--
Right where the terrible Russian crossed,
And he cried: "Bismillah! I'm Ab-El Kor-
Bazarou-Kilgonautosgobross-
Getfinpravadi-
Kligekoladji
Grivino
Blivido-
Jenikodosk!"

So they stood like brave men long and well;
And they called each other their proper names,
Till the lockjaw seized them, and where they fell
They buried them both by the Irdesholmmes
Kalatalustchuk
Mischtaribusiclup-
Bulgari-
Dulbary-
Sagharimsing.

_Anonymous_.




LINES TO MISS FLORENCE HUNTINGDON

Sweet maiden of Passamaquoddy,
Shall we seek for communion of souls
Where the deep Mississippi meanders,
Or the distant Saskatchewan rolls?

Ah no,--for in Maine I will find thee
A sweetly sequestrated nook,
Where the far-winding Skoodoowabskooksis
Conjoins with the Skoodoowabskook.

There wander two beautiful rivers,
With many a winding and crook;
The one is the Skoodoowabskooksis,
The other--the Skoodoowabskook.

Ah, sweetest of haunts! though unmentioned
In geography, atlas, or book,
How fair is the Skoodoowabskooksis,
When joining the Skoodoowabskook!

Our cot shall be close by the waters
Within that sequestrated nook--
Reflected in Skoodoowabskooksis
And mirrored in Skoodoowabskook.

You shall sleep to the music of leaflets,
By zephyrs in wantonness shook,
And dream of the Skoodoowabskooksis,
And, perhaps, of the Skoodoowabskook.

When awaked by the hens and the roosters,
Each morn, you shall joyously look
On the junction of Skoodoowabskooksis
With the soft gliding Skoodoowabskook.

Your food shall be fish from the waters,
Drawn forth on the point of a hook,
From murmuring Skoodoowabskooksis,
Or wandering Skoodoowabskook!

You shall quaff the most sparkling of water,
Drawn forth from a silvery brook
Which flows to the Skoodoowabskooksis,
And then to the Skoodoowabskook!

And you shall preside at the banquet,
And I will wait on thee as cook;
And we'll talk of the Skoodoowabskooksis,
And sing of the Skoodoowabskook!

Let others sing loudly of Saco,
Of Quoddy, and Tattamagouche,
Of Kennebeccasis, and Quaco,
Of Merigonishe, and Buctouche,

Of Nashwaak, and Magaguadavique,
Or Memmerimammericook,--
There's none like the Skoodoowabskooksis,
Excepting the Skoodoowabskook!

_Anonymous_.




COBBE'S PROPHECIES

When the day and the night do meete
And the houses are even with the streete:
And the fire and the water agree,
And blinde men have power to see:
When the Wolf and the Lambe lie down togither,
And the blasted trees will not wither:
When the flood and the ebbe run one way,
And the Sunne and the Moone are at a stay;
When Age and Youth are all one,
And the Miller creepes through the Mill-stone:
When the Ram butts the Butcher on the head,
And the living are buried with the dead.
When the Cobler doth worke without his ends,
And the Cutpurse and the Hangman are friends:
Strange things will then be to see,
But I think it will never be!

--_1614_.




AN UNSUSPECTED FACT

If down his throat a man should choose
In fun, to jump or slide,
He'd scrape his shoes against his teeth,
Nor dirt his own inside.
But if his teeth were lost and gone,
And not a stump to scrape upon,
He'd see at once how very pat
His tongue lay there by way of mat,
And he would wipe his feet on _that_!

_Edward Cannon_.




THE SORROWS OF WERTHER

Werther had a love for Charlotte
Such as words could never utter;
Would you know how first he met her?
She was cutting bread and butter.

Charlotte was a married lady,
And a moral man was Werther,
And for all the wealth of Indies,
Would do nothing for to hurt her.

So he sigh'd and pined and ogled,
And his passion boil'd and bubbled,
Till he blew his silly brains out,
And no more was by it troubled.

Charlotte, having seen his body
Borne before her on a shutter,
Like a well-conducted person,
Went on cutting bread and butter.

_W.M. Thackeray_.




NONSENSE VERSES

Lazy-bones, lazy-bones, wake up and peep!
The cat's in the cupboard, your mother's asleep.
There you sit snoring, forgetting her ills;
Who is to give her her Bolus and Pills?
Twenty fine Angels must come into town,
All for to help you to make your new gown:
Dainty aerial Spinsters and Singers;
Aren't you ashamed to employ such white fingers?
Delicate hands, unaccustom'd to reels,
To set 'em working a poor body's wheels?
Why they came down is to me all a riddle,
And left Hallelujah broke off in the middle:
Jove's Court, and the Presence angelical, cut--
To eke out the work of a lazy young slut.
Angel-duck, Angel-duck, winged and silly,
Pouring a watering-pot over a lily,
Gardener gratuitous, careless of pelf,
Leave her to water her lily herself,
Or to neglect it to death if she chuse it:
Remember the loss is her own if she lose it.

_Charles Lamb_.




THE NOBLE TUCK-MAN

Americus, as he did wend
With A. J. Mortimer, his chum,
The two were greeted by a friend,
"And how are you, boys, Hi, Ho, Hum?"

He spread a note so crisp, so neat
(Ho, and Hi, and tender Hum),
"If you of this a fifth can eat
I'll give you the remainder. Come!"

To the tuck-shop three repair,
(Ho, and Hum, and pensive Hi),
One looks on to see all's fair,
Two call out for hot mince-pie.

Thirteen tarts, a few Bath buns
(Hi, and Hum, and gorgeous Ho),
Lobster cakes (the butter'd ones),
All at once they cry, "No go."

Then doth tuck-man smile. "Them there
(Ho, and Hi, and futile Hum)
Jellies three and sixpence air,
Use of spoons an equal sum."

Three are rich. Sweet task 'tis o'er,
"Tuckman, you're a brick," they cry,
Wildly then shake hands all four
(Hum and Ho, the end is Hi).

_Jean Ingelow_.




THE PESSIMIST

Nothing to do but work,
Nothing to eat but food,
Nothing to wear but clothes
To keep one from going nude.

Nothing to breathe but air,
Quick as a flash 'tis gone;
Nowhere to fall but off,
Nowhere to stand but on.

Nothing to comb but hair,
Nowhere to sleep but in bed,
Nothing to weep but tears,
Nothing to bury but dead.

Nothing to sing but songs,
Ah, well, alas! alack!
Nowhere to go but out,
Nowhere to come but back.

Nothing to see but sights,
Nothing to quench but thirst,
Nothing to have but what we've got;
Thus thro' life we are cursed.

Nothing to strike but a gait;
Everything moves that goes.
Nothing at all but common sense
Can ever withstand these woes.

_Ben King_.




THE MODERN HIAWATHA

He killed the noble Mudjokivis.
Of the skin he made him mittens,
Made them with the fur side inside,
Made them with the skin side outside.
He, to get the warm side inside,
Put the inside skin side outside;
He, to get the cold side outside,
Put the warm side fur side inside.
That's why he put the fur side inside,
Why he put the skin side outside,
Why he turned them inside outside.

_Anonymous_.




ON THE ROAD

Said Folly to Wisdom,
"Pray, where are we going?"
Said Wisdom to Folly,
"There's no way of knowing."

Said Folly to Wisdom,
"Then what shall we do?"
Said Wisdom to Folly,
"I thought to ask you."

_Tudor Jenks_.




UNCLE SIMON AND UNCLE JIM

Uncle Simon he
Clum up a tree
To see what he could see
When presentlee
Uncle Jim
Clum up beside of him
And squatted down by he.

_Artemus Ward_.




POOR DEAR GRANDPAPA

What is the matter with Grandpapa?
What can the matter be?
He's broken his leg in trying to spell
Tommy without a T.

_D' Arcy W. Thompson_.




THE SEA-SERPENT

All bones but yours will rattle when I say
I'm the sea-serpent from America.
Mayhap you've heard that I've been round the world;
I guess I'm round it now, Mister, twice curled.
Of all the monsters through the deep that splash,
I'm "number one" to all immortal smash.
When I lie down and would my length unroll,
There ar'n't half room enough 'twixt pole and pole.
In short, I grow so long that I've a notion
I must be measured soon for a new ocean.

_Planche_.




MELANCHOLIA

I am a peevish student, I;
My star is gone from yonder sky.
I think it went so high at first
That it just went and gone and burst.

_Anonymous_.




THE MONKEY'S WEDDING

The monkey married the Baboon's sister,
Smacked his lips and then he kissed her,
He kissed so hard he raised a blister.
She set up a yell.
The bridesmaid stuck on some court plaster,
It stuck so fast it couldn't stick faster,
Surely 't was a sad disaster,
But it soon got well.

What do you think the bride was dressed in?
White gauze veil and a green glass breast-pin,
Red kid shoes--she was quite interesting,
She was quite a belle.
The bridegroom swell'd with a blue shirt collar,
Black silk stock that cost a dollar,
Large false whiskers the fashion to follow;
He cut a monstrous swell.

What do you think they had for supper?
Black-eyed peas and bread and butter,
Ducks in the duck-house all in a flutter,
Pickled oysters too.
Chestnuts raw and boil'd and roasted,
Apples sliced and onions toasted,
Music in the corner posted,
Waiting for the cue.

What do you think was the tune they danced to?
"The drunken Sailor"--sometimes "Jim Crow,"
Tails in the way--and some got pinched, too,
'Cause they were too long.
What do you think they had for a fiddle?
An old Banjo with a hole in the middle,
A Tambourine made out of a riddle,
And that's the end of my song.

_Anonymous_.




MR. FINNEY'S TURNIP

Mr. Finney had a turnip
And it grew and it grew,
And it grew behind the barn,
And that turnip did no harm.

There it grew and it grew
Till it could grow no longer;
Then his daughter Lizzie picked it
And put it in the cellar.

There it lay and it lay
Till it began to rot;
And his daughter Susie took it
And put it in the pot.

And they boiled it and boiled it
As long as they were able,
And then his daughters took it
And put it on the table.

Mr. Finney and his wife
They sat down to sup;
And they ate and they ate
And they ate that turnip up.

_Anonymous_..




THE SUN

The Sun, yon glorious orb of day,
Ninety-four million miles away,
Will keep revolving in its orbit
Till heat and motion reabsorb it.

_J. Davis_.




THE AUTUMN LEAVES

The Autumn leaves are falling,
Are falling here and there.
They're falling through the atmosphere
And also through the air.

_Anonymous_.




IN THE NIGHT

The night was growing old
As she trudged through snow and sleet;
Her nose was long and cold,
And her shoes were full of feet.

_Anonymous_.




POOR BROTHER

How very sad it is to think
Our poor benighted brother
Should have his head upon one end,
His feet upon the other.

_Anonymous_.




_THE BOY_

Down through the snow-drifts in the street
With blustering joy he steers;
His rubber boots are full of feet
And his tippet full of ears.

_Eugene Field_.




_THE SEA_

Behold the wonders of the mighty deep,
Where crabs and lobsters learn to creep,
And little fishes learn to swim,
And clumsy sailors tumble in.

_Anonymous_.




_THERE WAS A LITTLE GIRL_

There was a little girl,
And she had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good
She was very, very good,
And when she was bad she was horrid.

One day she went upstairs,
When her parents, unawares,
In the kitchen were occupied with meals
And she stood upon her head
In her little trundle-bed,
And then began hooraying with her heels.

Her mother heard the noise,
And she thought it was the boys
A-playing at a combat in the attic;
But when she climbed the stair,
And found Jemima there,
She took and she did spank her most emphatic.

_H. W. Longfellow_.




FIN DE SIECLE

The sorry world is sighing now;
_La Grippe _is at the door;
And many folks are dying now
Who never died before.

_Newton Mackintosh_.




MARY JANE

Mary Jane was a farmer's daughter,
Mary Jane did what she oughter.
She fell in love--but all in vain;
Oh, poor Mary! oh, poor Jane!

_Anonymous_.




TENDER-HEARTEDNESS

Little Willie, in the best of sashes,
Fell in the fire and was burned to ashes.
By and by the room grew chilly,
But no one liked to poke up Willie.

_Col. D. Streamer_.




IMPETUOUS SAMUEL

Sam had spirits naught could check,
And to-day, at breakfast, he
Broke his baby sister's neck,
So he sha'n't have jam for tea!

_Col. D. Streamer_.




MISFORTUNES NEVER COME SINGLY

Making toast at the fireside,
Nurse fell in the grate and died;
And, what makes it ten times worse,
All the toast was burned with Nurse.

_Col. D. Streamer_.




AUNT ELIZA

In the drinking-well
(Which the plumber built her)
Aunt Eliza fell,--
We must buy a filter.

_Col. D. Streamer_.




SUSAN

Susan poisoned her grandmother's tea;
Grandmamma died in agonee.
Susan's papa was greatly vexed,
And he said to Susan, "My dear, what next?"

_Anonymous_.




BABY AND MARY

Baby sat on the window-seat;
Mary pushed Baby into the street;
Baby's brains were dashed out in the "arey";
And mother held up her forefinger at Mary.

_Anonymous_.




THE SUNBEAM

I dined with a friend in the East, one day,
Who had no window-sashes;
A sunbeam through the window came
And burnt his wife to ashes.
"John, sweep your mistress away," said he,
"And bring fresh wine for my friend and me."

_Anonymous_.




LITTLE WILLIE

Little Willie hung his sister,
She was dead before we missed her.
"Willie's always up to tricks!
Ain't he cute? He's only six!"

_Anonymous_.




MARY AMES

Pity now poor Mary Ames,
Blinded by her brother James;
Red-hot nails in her eyes he poked,--
I never saw Mary more provoked.

_Anonymous_.




MUDDLED METAPHORS

_By a Moore-ose Melodist_

Oh, ever thus from childhood's hour,
I've seen my fondest hopes recede!
I never loved a tree or flower
That didn't trump its partner's lead.

I never nursed a dear gazelle,
To glad me with its dappled hide,
But when it came to know me well,
It fell upon the buttered side.

I never taught a cockatoo
To whistle comic songs profound,
But, just when "Jolly Dogs" it knew,
It failed for ninepence in the pound.

I never reared a walrus cub
In my aquarium to plunge,
But, when it learned to love its tub,
It placidly threw up the sponge!

I never strove a metaphor
To every bosom home to bring
But--just as it had reached the door--
It went and cut a pigeon's wing!

_Tom Hood, Jr_.




VILLON'S STRAIGHT TIP TO ALL CROSS COVES

"_Tout aux tavernes et aux fiells_"

Suppose you screeve? or go cheap-jack?
Or fake the broads? or fig a nag?
Or thimble-rig? or knap a yack?
Or pitch a snide? or smash a rag?
Suppose you duff? or nose and lag?
Or get the straight, and land your pot?
How do you melt the multy swag?
Booze and the blowens cop the lot.

Fiddle, or fence, or mace, or mack;
Or moskeneer, or flash the drag;
Dead-lurk a crib, or do a crack;
Pad with a slang, or chuck a fag;
Bonnet, or tout, or mump and gag;
Rattle the tats, or mark the spot;
You cannot bag a single stag;
Booze and the blowens cop the lot.

Suppose you try a different tack,
And on the square you flash your flag?
At penny-a-lining make your whack,
Or with the mummers mug and gag?
For nix, for nix the dibbs you bag!
At any graft, no matter what,
Your merry goblins soon stravag:
Booze and the blowens cop the lot.

THE MORAL

It's up the spout and Charley Wag
With wipes and tickers and what not
Until the squeezer nips your scrag,
Booze and the blowens cop the lot.

_W. E. Henley_.




ODE TO THE HUMAN HEART

Blind Thamyris, and blind M. aeonides,
Pursue the triumph and partake the gale!
Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees,
To point a moral or adorn a tale.

Full many a gem of purest ray serene,
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears,
Like angels' visits, few and far between,
Deck the long vista of departed years.

Man never is, but always to be bless'd;
The tenth transmitter of a foolish face,
Like Aaron's serpent, swallows up the rest,
And makes a sunshine in the shady place.

For man the hermit sigh'd, till woman smiled,
To waft a feather or to drown a fly,
(In wit a man, simplicity a child,)
With silent finger pointing to the sky.

But fools rush in where angels fear to tread,
Far out amid the melancholy main;
As when a vulture on Imaus bred,
Dies of a rose in aromatic pain.

_Laman Blanchard_.





IMERICKS

There was an old person of Ware
Who rode on the back of a bear;
When they said, "Does it trot?"
He said: "Certainly not,
It's a Moppsikon Floppsikon bear."


There was an old person of Wick,
Who said, "Tick-a-Tick, Tick-a-Tick,
Chickabee, Chickabaw,"
And he said nothing more,
This laconic old person of Wick.


There was an old person of Woking,
Whose mind was perverse and provoking;
He sate on a rail,
With his head in a pail,
That illusive old person of Woking.


There was once a man with a beard
Who said, "It is just as I feared!--
Two Owls and a Hen,
Four Larks and a Wren
Have all built their nests in my beard."


There was an old man of Thermopylae,
Who never did anything properly;
But they said: "If you choose
To boil eggs in your shoes,
You cannot remain in Thermopylae."


There was an Old Man who said, "Hush!
I perceive a young bird in this bush!"
When they said, "Is it small?"
He replied, "Not at all;
It is four times as big as the bush!"


There was an Old Man who supposed
That the street door was partially closed;
But some very large Rats
Ate his coats and his hats,
While that futile Old Gentleman dozed.


There was an Old Man of Leghorn,
The smallest that ever was born;
But quickly snapt up he
Was once by a Puppy,
Who devoured that Old Man of Leghorn.


There was an Old Man of Kamschatka
Who possessed a remarkably fat Cur;
His gait and his waddle
Were held as a model
To all the fat dogs in Kamschatka.

_Edward Lear_.

[_From books printed for the benefit of the New York
Fair in aid of the Sanitary Commission_, 1864]



There was a gay damsel of Lynn,
Whose waist was so charmingly thin,
The dressmaker needed
A microscope--she did--
To fit this slim person of Lynn.


There was a young lady of Milton,
Who was highly disgusted with Stilton;
When offered a bite,
She said, "Not a mite!"
That suggestive young lady of Milton.


There was a dear lady of Eden,
Who on apples was quite fond of feedin';
She gave one to Adam,
Who said, "Thank you, Madam,"
And then both skedaddled from Eden.


There was a young lady of Wales,
Who wore her back hair in two tails;
And a hat on her head
That was striped black and red,
And studded with ten-penny nails.


There was an old man who said, "Do
Tell me how I'm to add two and two?
I'm not very sure
That it doesn't make four--
But I fear that is almost too few."


There once was a man who said, "How
Shall I manage to carry my cow?
For if I should ask it
To get in my basket,
'Twould make such a terrible row."

_Anonymous_.



There once was an old man of Lyme
Who married three wives at a time;
When asked, "Why a third?"
He replied, "One's absurd!
And bigamy, sir, is a crime."


There once was a person of Benin,
Who wore clothes not fit to be seen in;
When told that he shouldn't,
He replied, "Gumscrumrudent!"
A word of inscrutable meanin'.


There once was a girl of New York
Whose body was lighter than cork;
She had to be fed
For six weeks upon lead,
Before she went out for a walk.

_Cosmo Monkhouse_.


There was a young man who was bitten
By twenty-two cats and a kitten;
Sighed he, "It is clear
My finish is near;
No matter; I'll die like a Briton!"


There was a princess of Bengal,
Whose mouth was exceedingly small;
Said she, "It would be
More easy for me
To do without eating at all!"


There was an old stupid who wrote
The verses above that we quote;
His want of all sense
Was something immense,
Which made him a person of note.

_Walter Parke_.




VERS NONSENSIQUES

A Potsdam, les totaux absteneurs,
Comme tant d'autres titotalleurs,
Sont gloutons, omnivores,
Nasorubicolores,
Grands manchons, et terribles duffeurs.


Un vieux due (le meilleur des epoux)
Demandait (en lui tatant le pouls)
A sa vielle duchesse
(Qu'un vieux catarrhe oppresse):--
"Et ton the, t'a-t-il ote ta toux?"


II naquit pres de Choisy-le-Roi;
Le Latin lui causait de l'effroi;
Et les Mathematiques
Lui donnaient des coliques,
Et le Grec l'enrhumait. Ce fut moi.


Il etait un gendarme, a Nanteuil,
Qui n'avait qu'une dent et qu'un oeil;
Mais cet oeil solitaire
Etait plein de mystere;
Cette dent, d'importance et d'orgueil.

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These are high times for Gordon Brown. He has been praised for saving the global financial system, and received a welcome respite from his electoral troubles at the Glenrothes byelection.

But not everything is rosy for the prime minister. His latest book, Wartime Courage: Stories of Extraordinary Courage by Ordinary People in World War Two, has sold just 193 copies in the fortnight it has been on sale.

In the same two weeks, Jordan - Pushed to the Limit, the latest instalment of the glamour model's autobiography, sold 4,446 copies, despite having been on sale for 10 months. Wartime Courage currently ranks at 10,646 in the Amazon UK sales chart.

To rub salt into his wounds, the reviews have been rotten. The Independent bemoaned Brown's "robotic neutrality", "engine-drone monotone" and "mealy-mouthed avoidance of 'controversial' issues". Writing in the Spectator, the author James Delingpole went further, describing Wartime Courage as a "leaden, clunken-fisted cuttings job". Brown has an "automaton-like inability either to empathise with his subject ... or to work out which details needed emphasising and which could be safely excluded".

Brown's subjects - which include the Chariots of Fire legend Eric Liddell and Violette Szabo, who worked undercover for the Special Operations Executive during the second world war - were intrinsically thrilling, said Delingpole. Which "makes it all the less excusable that Brown has made them seem so dull".

And that's not all. "His opening and closing essays are waffly, trite and, in so far as they attempt to make political capital from the achievements of people who have nothing whatsoever to do with him or his grisly ideology, offensive," complained Delingpole, who admitted that as a "starving author" he resented "the allocation by the publishing industry of time, money, space and attention to people who can barely write and anyway have well remunerated day jobs".

Not everyone hated it, however. The Jewish Chronicle's reviewer was a lone fan, saying all of the stories in the book were "well told" and made "compelling reading". "Finding time to write this book does the prime minister credit."

The book was due to be published in April, but did not hit the shops until November. A spokeswoman for Bloomsbury, the prime minister's publisher, denied it had been held back because of his low popularity ratings in the spring.

"The reason it was delayed was because he hadn't finished writing it - he didn't have a ghostwriter," said Bloomsbury's publicity director, Katie Bond.

Neill Denny, editor-in-chief of the publishing trade magazine the Bookseller, said that while he was surprised Brown's book had sold so badly, it was not the most tempting proposition.

Denny said: "It would be different if he had written his memoirs. That could be political dynamite. We've had half the story of the Blair years, but Brown's point of view could be fascinating."

But he added: "It is not disastrously bad. Hardback books do not sell in huge quantities any more. When the Booker longlist came out last year, of the 13 books, half had sold less than 1,000 copies."

Gordon Brown's first book on the subject of bravery, Courage: Eight Stories, which was published by Bloomsbury last year, has sold 4,469 copies in the UK, according to Nielsen BookScan.

The Conservatives may be falling back in the polls, but they are easily winning the book war: William Hague's biography of William Pitt the Younger has sold more than 78,000 copies since 2004.

PM's weighty tome

Tirpitz and Godfrey Place

On 11 September six X-craft set out for the thousand-mile journey. Each midget submarine had two crews: one for the passage out - on which they were towed by six larger submarines - and one operational crew to carry out the final attack. Two of the midget submarines broke adrift, one being eventually recovered, the other sinking with all hands. On 19 September the four remaining vessels approached the target area, still under tow. Towing problems delayed HM Submarine Stubborn and her charge X-7 when a floating mine - part of the outer defences of Altafjord - became caught on the tow-line and was then impaled on the bows of the midget submarine. [Godfrey] Place, the commander of X-7, went out on its forward casing and cleared the mine away with his foot.

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Why shouldn't Sarah Palin get a book deal?

To the untrained eye the damage is barely visible. Yet within the handbound pages of books charting how Europeans travelled to Mesopotamia, Persia and the Mogul empire from the 16th century onwards, the damage caused by one Iranian academic to a priceless British Library collection is irreversible.

Leading scholars at the library are at a loss to explain why Farhad Hakimzadeh, a Harvard-educated businessman, publisher and intellectual, took a scalpel to the leaves of 150 books that have been in the nation's collection for centuries. The monetary damage he caused over seven years is in the region of £400,000 but Dr Kristian Jensen, head of the British and early printed collections at the library, said no price could be placed upon the books and maps that he had defaced and stolen.

"These are historic objects which have been damaged forever," said Jensen. "You cannot undo what he has done and it has compromised a piece of historical evidence which charts the early engagement of Europeans with what we now know as the Middle East and China.

"It makes me extremely angry. This is someone who is extremely rich who has damaged and destroyed something that belongs to everybody."

Hakimzadeh, 60, faces a jail sentence today when he appears at Wood Green magistrates court in London. The Iranian-born academic fled his country after the fall of the Shah and holds a US passport. He has pleaded guilty to 14 specimen charges of stealing maps, pages and illustrations from 10 books at the British Library and four from the Bodleian Library in Oxford dating back to 1998.

When police searched his home in Knightsbridge, west London, last July they discovered some of the missing maps, pages and pictures inserted into less valuable editions of the same books he owned.

Academics at the library were forced to turn detective in June 2006 after a reader who had taken out a copy of Sir Thomas Herbert's book A Relation of Some Yeares Travaille, Begunne Anno 1626 suggested some of its pages had been removed.

Careful examination by experts at the library proved him to be correct and the staff mounted a delicate operation to find out who had been damaging the book and whether other items had suffered the same fate.

Using electronic records, they found all the British Library members who had taken out the book and then examined other works these people had had contact with. They discovered that other works detailing the same periods in history and covering European engagement to the area from modern-day Syria to Bangladesh were also damaged.

Pages had been sliced away close to the spine of the books and maps, one of them worth £32,000, had been removed from chapters, leaving barely noticeable indentations in the paper marking where they had been.

"It was only the books taken out by Hakimzadeh which showed a consistent pattern of damage," said Jensen.

They discovered that Hakimzadeh had taken out 842 books and of these at least 150 had been mutilated. Some of the stolen pages were discovered but many have been lost forever.

The library wrote to Hakimzadeh, who at the time was chief executive of the Iran Heritage Foundation, a charity he formed in 1995 to promote and perserve the history, languages and culture of Iran. He replied saying he had no idea that there was any damage to the books. It was at this point that the library went to the police with the details of the investigation.

Forensic scientists analysed the damaged books and police officers called at Hakimzadeh's Knightsbridge home, where he lived with his wife.

"Some pages were found loose and others had been inserted into books in his own collection," said Jensen, who acccompanied the officers. "Hakimzadeh is eminently characteristic of our traditional groups of readers: he has a profound knowledge of the field. From my point of view, that makes it worse because he actually knew the importance of what he was damaging. What he did was use the cover of serious scholarly purpose to steal historic pieces and abuse our trust."

The library has launched a civil action to sue Hakimzadeh for full compensation.

Defaced books

The rare books that were defaced by Hakimzadeh include:

Historia de la China From the writings of Father Matteo Ricci, an Italian Jesuit who travelled to China in 1582 and became the first western traveller to settle there. First published in Latin in 1615. This copy was printed in Spain in 1621. Ricci learned to speak and write Chinese and his work was the first important and reliable European description of the country.

Novus Orbis An anthology of works by Simon Grynaeus, professor of Greek at Basle. Hakimzadeh removed an engraving of a world map drawn by Hans Holbein the Younger, court painter to Henry VIII.

Mithridates By the English dramatist Nathaniel Lee. Published in 1693.

Ost-indian-und Persianische Reisen By Johann Gottlieb Worm, the German philosopher who accompanied an envoy of the Dutch East India Company sent to the Safavid court in Persia in 1717. He travelled to Isfahan from India via Bandar. Published in 1745.

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