Huzzah! Joy! Delight!

The winners of this years Bulwer-Lytton Bad Writing Contest have been posted!  Feast upon such golden prose as:

As he told her that he loved her she gazed into his eyes, wondering, as she noted the infestation of eyelash mites, the tiny deodicids burrowing into his follicles to eat the greasy sebum therein, each female laying up to 25 eggs in a single follicle, causing inflammation, whether the eyes are truly the windows of the soul; and, if so, his soul needed regrouting.

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  • I think “It was a dark and stormy night” is the best opening line to a novel ever. What’s awful about it?

    • TheRealAaron

      I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the original. Just that it’s since become a cliche.

      • Blog Goliard

        Oh, there’s plenty wrong with the original. Read the whole first sentence.

        Anyhow, thanks to Mark for alerting me to this latest installment of the cherished delight that is the Bulwer-Lytton contest.

  • James H, London

    Oh, my aching face!

    Ah, a good laugh does you a lot of good!

  • Kirt Higdon

    My all time favorite winner from 1984 –

    “The lovely woman-child Kaa was mercilessly chained to the cruel post of the warrior-chief Beastx, with his barbarous tribe now stacking wood at her nubile feet, when the strong, clear voice of the poetic and heroic Handsomas roared, “Flick your Bic, crisp that chick, and you’ll feel my steel through your last meal.”

    • Irenist

      Wow. Just, wow.

    • Andy, Bad Person

      Wow is right. It’s like he wrote a plain sentence and then couldn’t stop saying “ADJECTIVES! NEEDS MORE ADJECTIVES!”

  • Irenist

    If you like this sort of thing, and haven’t yet read “The Eye of Argon,” you owe it to yourself to make the (brief) time. The story’s Wikipedia page informs us that it is so bad that a traditional party game at sci-fi conventions is to try to read some of it aloud without laughing. Here is the complete text, with original misspellings ingloriously intact:

    This is how it begins:
    ” The weather beaten trail wound ahead into the dust racked
    climes of the baren land which dominates large portions of the
    Norgolian empire. Age worn hoof prints smothered by the sifting
    sands of time shone dully against the dust splattered crust of
    earth. The tireless sun cast its parching rays of incandescense
    from overhead, half way through its daily revolution. Small
    rodents scampered about, occupying themselves in the daily
    accomplishments of their dismal lives. Dust sprayed over three
    heaving mounts in blinding clouds, while they bore the burdonsome
    cargoes of their struggling overseers.
    “Prepare to embrace your creators in the stygian haunts of
    hell, barbarian”, gasped the first soldier.
    “Only after you have kissed the fleeting stead of death,
    wretch!” returned Grignr.
    A sweeping blade of flashing steel riveted from the massive
    barbarians hide enameled shield as his rippling right arm thrust
    forth, sending a steel shod blade to the hilt into the soldiers
    vital organs. The disemboweled mercenary crumpled from his
    saddle and sank to the clouded sward, sprinkling the parched dust
    with crimson droplets of escaping life fluid.”

  • Kirt Higdon

    ROTFLMAO!!!!!! They need to make that into a movie – straight to video, of course.

  • The Irish writer Amanda McKittrick Ros, who was deadly serious– Aldous Huxley once wrote a kind but rather ironic review– opens one of her books thus:

    “Have you ever visited that portion of Erin’s plot that offers its sympathetic soil for the minute survey and scrutinous examination of those in political power, whose decision has wisely been the means before now of converting the stern and prejudiced, and reaching the hand of slight aid to share its strength in augmenting its agricultural richness?”