the edward bulwar lytton prize
The Edward Bulwar Lytton prize is awarded every year to the
author of the worst possible opening line of a book. This has
been so successful that Penguin now publishes five books'
worth of entries. Some recent winners:
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As a scientist, Throckmorton knew that if he were ever
to break wind in the sound chamber he would never hear
the end of it.
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Just beyond the Narrows the river widens.
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With a curvaceous figure that Venus would have envied,
a tanned, unblemished oval face framed with lustrous
thick brown hair, deep azure-blue eyes fringed with
long black lashes, perfect teeth that vied for
competition, and a small straight nose, Marilee had a
beauty that defied description.
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Andre, a simple peasant, had only one thing on his mind
as he crept along the east wall: "Andre creep... Andre
creep... Andre creep.
-
Stanislaus Smedley, a man always on the cutting edge of
narcissism, was about to give his body and soul to a
back-alley sex-change surgeon to become the woman he
loved.
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Although Sarah had an abnormal fear of mice, it did not
keep her from seeking out a living at a local pet
store.
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Stanley looked quite bored and somewhat detached, but
then penguins often do.
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Like an overripe beefsteak tomato rimmed with cottage
cheese, the corpulent remains of Santa Claus lay dead
on the hotel floor.
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Mike Hardware was the kind of private eye who didn't
know the meaning of the word "fear," a man who could
laugh in the face of danger and spit in the eye of
death -- in short, a moron with suicidal tendencies.
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The sun oozed over the horizon, shoved aside darkness,
crept along the greensward, and, with sickly fingers,
pushed through the castle window, revealing the
pillaged princess, hand at throat, crown asunder,
gaping in frenzied horror at the sated, sodden
amphibian lying beside her, disbelieving the magnitude
of the frog's deception, screaming madly, "You lied!"
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