In the early 90s, The Independent used to run a writing competition in its Saturday magazine. Because I was out of work at the time (it was the height of the recession), I had plenty of time on my hands, and I used to enter it on a regular basis, and I actually won a prize a couple of times. Of course, just as I was getting into my stride, they went and stopped the competition. Swine.
This was the brief for one of them:
and here was my entry:
By the way, the champagne was excellent.