Ximenes On The Art Of The Crossword


Composing an Everyman: The Clues

An Everyman puzzle differs from a Ximenes chiefly in its standard of difficulty. As has been shown, its diagram is constructed from familiar words and phrases, whereas solving a Ximenes often requires a dictionary’s help; but exactly the same principles of clueing are common to both types. Furthermore, although we are attempting to compose a fairly easy rather than a stiff puzzle, we must try to make sure that solvers can trust us, in small details as well as in large.

If we now work our way through the puzzle that we completed in the previous chapter, and examine the make-up of each word and phrase, we shall perhaps be able to show a fair number of different ways of tackling them. We can’t hope to cover every possibility in one puzzle of twenty-eight clues, but this set of clues ought to give a general picture of what we consider to be sound, accurate and, above all, fair clueing practice.

We could start at 1 Across and continue in a methodical way right through the puzzle; but I prefer to dispose of the four long words or phrases first. Why? Because often phrases call for a slightly different clueing technique from that required for shorter words. There may be something in a phrase which will enable us to give it an unexpected twist, without using a reference to its letters as such. For instance, if we were trying to clue DILATED PUPILS, we could picture Billy Bunter and Co. after a large tea-party, as well as the real meaning; or with the phrase GET INTO HOT WATER, the idea of somebody having a bath leaps to the mind. Let’s see if our four phrases can produce some similar situations.

When we put 14 Across (LETTER OF THE LAW) in our diagram, we thought of a subpoena. Let’s work on it. It’s something that you stick to if you’re scrupulous, but in a fanciful way it could be thought of as a letter which the law, or lawyers generally, might send to people, such as a summons or a subpoena. It isn’t really, so we mustn’t say it is. But we can suggest it as a possible way of reading the phrase by the use of a question-mark, thus: “Subpoena? Scrupulous people stick to it [6, 2, 3, 3]”.

The solver is thus given two shots at the same target from two different angles, in accordance with good clueing principles. “Is it a subpoena that we’re trying to find?’ is one hint at the answer, and “Scrupulous people stick to it” is a straightforward statement. Whichever part of the clue strikes the solver first, the other part should settle the matter. If it does, he knows he’s right. If it doesn’t, either he or the clue hasn’t done the job properly.

16 Across: SAVES ONE’S BACON. Again, there are two ideas to play with here: the real meaning, “escapes loss”, and also some picture of a man hoarding his supply of bacon. If he makes do with eggs for a few consecutive breakfasts, he saves his bacon for later. Here’s an idea, then: “Escapes loss — by breakfasting only on eggs? [5, 4, 5]”.

This should be a real help. The definition, although accurate, may not get the solver very far — the answer might be lots of things. But the subsidiary reference to eggs and breakfast ought to set him thinking about bacon too, and once he starts chewing on that, the answer shouldn’t be long in coming.

8 Down: SENT TO COVENTRY. Who or what is sent there? A social outcast, metaphorically, and orders for cars, literally. Let’s put both ideas together: “Socially excluded, as orders for cars may be [4, 2, 8]”.

A different clue-writer, whose thoughts turned to white horses rather than horse-power, might have tackled this same phrase with Lady Godiva in mind and produced something like this: “Despatched to report on Godiva’s ride? Socially excluded [4, 2, 8]”.

4 Down: DOWN IN THE MOUTH — and our clumsy young shaver! The phrase means “low-spirited’”, but we must do something about the other meaning of down, that is, soft hair.

Whenever a word has two different meanings, the obvious thing is to get both in the clue somehow. Here’s a suggestion: “What clumsy young shaver’s got? Low-spirited [4, 2, 3, 5]. | Does that cover everything? “Shaver” suggests a man shaving; clumsy” gives a hint that he’s making a messy job of it; and “young” makes it clear that he’s removing down rather than bristle — yes, it’s all there, and we can’t in fairness omit any of these pointers. Note the question-mark again — we haven’t said he gets down in his mouth, but rather asked if that’s a picture which the phrase could bring to mind.

We’ve managed, then, to clue our four long phrases by playing with the ideas of their words, not with their actual letters, and that’s what we set out to do when we tackled them out of their order. Now we can go ahead in sequence, without jumping about all over the place. Let’s write down the clue-numbers in their correct order on our sheet of paper — fourteen across, fourteen down — put in the four we’ve just done, and check each new one against the diagram as we deal with it.

Just a word or two before we get going in real earnest with the rest of the puzzle. We are hoping to write clues which appear to make some sense, but also by various means to send the solver on a temporary wild-goose chase before he returns with the answer. We want to puzzle, but not indefinitely, so here goes.

1 Across: DEPOSE. It means to oust, or remove from a high position. Let’s examine the word’s make-up. DE (=of, French) and POSE (=attitude) — no obvious connexion with the word’s meaning here. We could, quite accurately, make the clue “Remove from high position of French attitude”. We could, but of course we shan’t, because the whole thing reads like nonsense. What about SOP, written backwards, in DEE? Hopeless. Does it make any interesting anagrams? SEED OP, E. DOPES (in Chinese opium dens — but what’s that got to do with “to oust”?), so DEEP, SPEEDO (the wonder petrol?), O SPEED, or zero SPEED — wait a minute! Zero speed when driving out of a high position — this is more promising, except for “high position’. “Elevated station” — that’s better! A little more thought, to mislead the solver into visualizing car-driving instead of despot-driving, and then: “To drive out of elevated station, change from zero speed [6]”.

Have we kept to our principles? We’ve got a definition in one part, and a subsidiary clue in the other part in the form of an anagram, suggested by the words “change from”; we’ve created a picture of a car leaving a station; and we’ve told the solver to jumble the letters of O SPEED.

4 Across: DICTATE. This sounds like Dick Tate — is there, or was there, a famous one? The England bowler is the only one who comes readily to mind, but he wasn’t Dick, so let’s forget it.

There’s no obvious way of separating the parts of this word, and we don’t want to use an anagram again so soon, so let’s try hiding it in some other words, as we tend to do for one clue in a puzzle. To dictate is to command, and the word EDICT is related to it and might help us to make a sensible-sounding clue: “Feature of an edict — a temporary command [7]”.

‘Feature of” suggests that the answer is a noticeable part of what follows, which is “an eDICT — A TEmporary”, and the definition “command” completes the clue. It will be seen that the definition part may come at either the beginning or the end of a clue.

9 Across: INTRUDE. We have almost two words side by side here: “INT and RUDE, so let’s see if we can devise some connexion. A hint is a tip, and rude means vulgar. Now how can we suggest that HINT has dropped its aitch? Obviously by finding a synonym, or synonymous phrase, that also has an aitch that we can drop. What about “a helpful tip’? If we drop the aitch, it will become “a ’elpful” — not so good. “A tip that’s ’elpful” is better. We now want a definition of the complete answer; “gatecrash” sounds all right. So the full clue will be: “Gate-crash — a tip that’s ’elpful and vulgar [7]”.

10 Across: WHISTLE. What are we going to be in this clue — referees or wolves? It all depends on what the word’s letters suggest. It is rather an awkward combination of letters, but we can see that there is the familiar abbreviation st. (for street) inside the word WHILE, or conversely, WHILE about st. One does not normally expect to see referees whistling around a street, but that’s precisely where the wolves congregate to show their appreciation of transient beauty! It will be an easy clue to solve, but it seems too pleasant a thought to discard, so let’s have: “Act like a wolf, while standing about the street [7]”.

The definition is “act like a wolf”, which colloquially suggests to “whistle”; and the word WHILE is standing, or positioned, about the abbreviation of street — so all the solver has to do is put one part round the other.

11 Across: TOP AND TAIL. Another phrase, and we try to think of two different ways of looking at it. The trouble here is that we can’t get away from the same idea of top and bottom in the usual senses, so we’d better abandon that tack and try something else. If it weren’t for that T in TAIL, we could have caught a PANDA in the TOIL — a pity. It’s no use, it’s not being a bit helpful, so let’s think about another anagram.

It’s always nice to work out an anagram which also has some connexion with the answer whenever this is possible — which isn’t all that often; but let’s see. To top and tail is to cut both ends off, especially in the vegetable kingdom. Vegetable? We suddenly notice that the letters of A PLANT are all in TOP AND TAIL — let’s remove them and see what’s left: T-O-D-I. This can become I DOT — no sense there — or DO IT, making A PLANT DO IT. We must indicate the anagram somehow, and after various attempts we finish with: “To cut both ends off a plant, do it haphazardly [3, 3, 4]”.

Note that the solver sometimes, as here, has to supply his own punctuation, and is required to pause after “to cut both ends — off”. He is then given “A PLANT, DO IT haphazardly’, which tells him to work out an anagram.

Before we leave this clue, we must carefully check each letter of the anagram against the answer in case we’ve made a mistake (it’s easily done if one tries it on sight only), and also put a pencilled mark at the side of the clue (to be erased later) to remind us that we’ve now used up two of the four full anagrams, the maximum that we usually allow ourselves.

12 Across: SNAP or SNIP. Reverse of PANS or reverse of PINS — which one is likely to clue better? There’s not much in it, but it occurs to us that we have got the word SNIPPET at 23 Across, so let’s not repeat the snip idea but play instead at SNAP. “Sudden cold spell — vessels returning [4]”.

A snap is a sudden cold spell — there’s the definition; and the solver is further helped by being told that a word meaning “vessels” is returning, or is written backwards. Since this is an across clue, we must be careful to say that PANS should be written backwards, whereas if it had been a down clue, we’d have had to say something like “vessels held up”, to show that the letters go upwards.

20 Across: ONUS. “Responsibility — at our expense [4]”. Two different ways of looking at the word have been used here. In addition to the definition (responsibility), we can think of it as the two separate words on and vs. If you’re lucky enough to hear some people offering you some refreshment with the words “It’s on us’, they mean, of course, ‘It’s at our expense’. So the words ON US, taken out of their full sentence, mean “at our expense”. )

21 Across: DEMOCRATIC. There are no obvious words side by side here, or any fitting of one word inside another, so this may be the time to use up the third of our anagrams. The letters can be rearranged to make I MET ACCORD, and the answer means “having popular government”. Put them together, then, as follows: “Having popular government, I met accord, somehow [10]”.

The clue’s final word suggests that the letters before it have t be arranged somehow, in other words, in a different order.

23 Across: SNIPPET. The most simple approach here is to treat the word as an order to snip one’s pet, or to give one’s dog a trim. How can we connect that idea with the word’s meaning? We must also be careful not to say definitely that only a dog is involved, because a pet might be any of a great number of creatures, so let’s suggest it by the use of a question-mark, thus: “Give doggie a trim? ‘That’s a bit of news [7]”.

The last-minute thought of changing “dog” to “doggie” ought to help the solver to think of a favourite domestic animal rather than other kinds, like greyhounds or hunting-dogs, which one is less likely to think of as “doggies”.

24 Across: TEHERAN. It is most important here, where we have the name of a place which is capable of different spellings, all equally acceptable, to take special care to give the solver a clue which will lead unmistakably to the spelling in our diagram and to no other. It makes HERA in TEN, or in a reversed NET, but that won’t be much help to solvers who aren’t familiar with the Greek goddess. There’s also HER+A in TEN - is that any good? HER is quite familiar as “the lady”; a is “one”; and we’d better leave TEN unchanged, or it will begin to look too hard. “The lady has one in ten” doesn’t make much sense, but “The lady attracts (i.e. draws towards her) one in ten” does. We mustn’t forget to indicate quite clearly where this place is, which is Persia. “The lady attracts one in ten in Persia [7]”.

It’s not an easy clue, but on the other hand most solvers, if asked to name a city in Persia, would probably think first of TEHERAN; and a quick check on the subsidiary clue should bring TE-HER-A-N and full satisfaction.

25 Across: LEGALLY. LEG ( a limb, or member of the body) and ALLY (partner) seem the best bet, giving something like “A member should have a partner, according to law”. But we notice that the answer to 13 Down is MEMBERSHIP, and we’re likely to need the “limb” idea there, so let’s think a bit more.

Something with a partner, but not LEG. What else is there? There’s L+8.G.:1, for instance, with a partner. L is a common abbreviation for “pound”, “lake”, or — yes, this might do — ‘Liberal’. Here we are: ‘Liberal, for instance, must have partner, according to law [7]”.

26 Across: SPARTA. We’re going to talk about a famous place, so let’s see if this time we can make a clue that fits the idea of a place.completely. It’s made up of PART (a region) inside the letters S.A., which can stand for South America. Sparta was well-known as the breeding-ground of hardy people, so it might make a nice misleading picture, as follows: ‘Region in S. America, whence hardy folk came [6]”.

Sparta isn’t, of course, a region in S. America, though it is a place whence hardy folk came. We’ve said something which isn’t true as a whole, but we’ve said precisely what we mean in the clue, namely that PART inside S.A. is where hardy folk came from.

Now it’s the turn of the Down clues, which we’ll tackle in numerical order as we did the Acrosses.

1 Down: DAINTILY. Here we have a word meaning “delicately”, consisting of DAILY (a charwoman, or char, familiarly) around Int. We’ve already used INT in the clue to 9 Across, so let’s think of some other approach to these three letters. They can be shuffled to make TIN. Now what would a char do with a tin? Probably throw it into the dust-bin when tidying up. That suggests “messy tin”, the word “messy” indicating to the solver that the letters of TIN are in a mess, that is, jumbled. Finally, how can we show that ‘messy tin” is within the word for a char? Better, perhaps, the other way round, with the char gripping, or holding, the tin. The picture is now complete: “Char holds messy tin delicately [8]”. 2

Only part of this word has been treated as an anagram, but we still don’t want to overdo this kind of clue, so we make a note at the side of the clue that a part-anagram has been used, to remind us to try not to do this more than once in a puzzle which looks like having four complete anagrams as well — but at a pinch, not more than twice.

2 Down: PITAPAT. We’ve got I TAP in PAT, A PAT upwards in PIT, neither of which is exactly inspiring; or there’s the straightforward PIT+A+PAT — let’s work on that. A pit is a mine. A Pat, colloquially, is an Irishman. ‘Mine an Irishman”, however, suggests blowing the poor chap up — that won’t do! How can we say “mine” is followed by “an Irishman” so as to make some sense? “Mine’s an Irishman” is nice and misleading, because the solver can’t help reading it at first sight as “mine is…’ whereas really it means “mine has … .”, because PIT can be said to have (next to it) A PAT.

There’s still the definition to work in. It means “palpitatingly”, but that won’t fit the general sense. The adverbial phrase “with palpitations’ is better, as follows: “Mine’s an Irishman, with palpitations [7]”.

That’s rather an unenviable boast for a girl to make about her current boy-friend, but it’s better than being on the shelf!

3 Down: SQUANDERED. This is an awkward-looking word. It makes SQUARED around an anagram of END, but let’s try to manage as long as possible without any more part-anagrams. In any case, that treatment doesn’t suggest any mental picture.

The word means “spent lavishly’, and the latter part of it is the latter part of PLUNDERED, which has some vague connexion — can we do something with that? squa is part of SQUALIDLY, and the words “squalidly plundered” make sense.

We must now indicate to the solver that the interior of these two words is missing — what about “gutless’”? That’s it: “Squalidly plundered — gutless — spent lavishly [10]”.

This clue is really the opposite idea to that used at 4 Across, where DICTATE was hidden in its correct order of letters inside the wording. Here the actual letters of the answer are given, also without any change of order and without synonyms, but they are to be found at the extremes of two consecutive words from which an internal part, or “guts”, must be removed.

5 Down: CHIN, CHIP or CLIP. Which one shall we clue? CHIN — a double one (CHIN-CHIN!) will lead to cheers! That’s a thought, but what about its definition? Leave it for a moment.

CHIP — on one’s shoulder, or in a greasy newspaper? Nothing obvious there at first sight. CLIP — on the ear? C + LIP? Hang on — we might have a bit of fun here. This clue, numbered 5 Down, comes straight after 4 Down (DOWN IN THE MOUTH), with its careless young shaver. Every now and again we find, accidentally, a superficial connexion between two successive answers which is too tempting to miss, and this may be a good opportunity. If a careless young shaver gets down in his mouth, a cheeky young shaver may get a clip on the ear, or round the cheek. Now we’ve just spotted that CLIP is made up of c. (a common abbreviation in history books for “circa”, meaning “about”) and LIP, which can mean impudence, or cheek. Let’s try it now: “What cheeky young shaver may get — about cheek [4]”.

Not every solver will appreciate this kind of lark, or even approve of it, but it’s irresistible! If the clue is read right through, it should lead to the straightforward answer, “He’ll get a CLIP about his cheek”. Then if it’s read over again, this time in two parts, we have cx1P for the answer to “What cheeky young shaver may get’, and we also have a subsidiary clue, “about cheek”; which should lead to c. — LIP.

6 Down: ANTENNA. We have here our old friend the ant, as well as the reverse of ANNE. Both parts are easy for regular solvers, so how can we make it a little more teasing? ANTENNA is a TV aerial, also easy, but if we make “aerial” an adjective instead of a noun it may hold up the solution for a moment or two and make the solver’s brain-cells earn their keep. We must also remember that this is a down clue, so the reverse of ANNE must use some word like “up”, not “back”. The following should make good sense: “Aerial worker takes girl up [7]”.

Once again the solver is required to pause after “aerial”, and then to make ANT take the reverse of ANNE.

7 Down: EXEMPT. The immediate idea that strikes one is that there’s EX, which means “former”, “late’, or “lately”, and EMPT, which is nearly the word EMPTY, meaning “vacant”; and the whole word can mean “released”. “Released, formerly vacant, almost” is very weak. What about “unoccupied” instead of “vacant”? We can paint a sad picture of a redundant worker getting the sack, thus: “Released, being lately almost unoccupied [6]”.

13 Down: MEMBERSHIP. The people who make up a club form its membership, and the word consists of MEMBERS (of a club, or Parliament, or the body) and H1P (a joint). It’s no use playing with the same idea of “members’” in the clue as in the answer, so let’s consider the members of the body, such as legs or arms. “Arms, joint” is an idea, especially with allied forces in mind, and the word “club” suggests the Nuclear Club, which is on the same wavelength. But just a moment — we can’t clue MEMBERS definitely as “arms”, because they might be other limbs besides. This is where the useful word “perhaps” comes in, as follows: “Arms, perhaps, joint, for all who are in the Club [10]”.

If we check this, we see that “arms, perhaps’ gives MEMBERS, ‘joint’ gives HIP, and the full answer means “all who are in — that is, belong to — the Club”.

15 Down: ANACONDA. ANA+CON+DA — no, these aren’t familiar words, though they’re all in the dictionary, so let’s try something else. It’s the reverse of AD-NO-CAN-A— “Notice no vessel, one turned up’? — what nonsense! We’ve still got one complete anagram up our sleeves — perhaps this is the time to use it. It makes A CAD ANON. Who will become a cad anon?

Someone who isn’t one now; but where’s the connexion with the real answer? An anaconda is a constrictor; it grips, it squeezes, it embraces — ah! Someone who’s doing some embracing may misbehave — given the chance! Let’s give him his chance here and put the words of the clue in his own mouth: “I’ve a strong embrace, and may become a cad anon [8]”.

Notice that the required word is addressing the solver direct, saying, “I, the answer, have a strong embrace, and may become (if my letters are rearranged) A CAD ANON”. Make a note too that we’ve used up our self-imposed ration of four full anagrams.

17 Down: AMUSING. “Capable of causing laughter’ — in a word, “laughable” or “funny” (since we must try to be economical of space whenever we can). The word itself has quite a number of reasonable possibilities this time. There’s AM+USING, or the reverse of MA+ USING, AM “U”+SING, US in A MING, A MUG about SIN, or A+MUSING. How many of them can be regarded as “funny”? Let’s take them in turn: ‘Am employing what’s funny”, (am-using); “Mother turns up, employing what’s funny” (rev. of ma+using); “Am top-drawer, having to warble — it’s laughable’, (am “U”-sing); “It’s funny, placing us in a Chinese dynasty”? (a M-us-ing); “A duffer about sin — it’s laughable” (a mu-sin-g); “The article needs pondering — it’s funny” (a-musing).

It’s now purely a matter of personal preference as to which one we use. However, since we must make a choice, the one which seems to present the neatest and simplest picture is: “A duffer about sin — it’s laughable [7]”.

18 Down: CATERER. What connexion can we make between “a person who provides food or entertainment” and the letters of the answer? CAT and ER-ER doesn’t make any sense. Does CARER about TE? “One who cares about an unfinished tea’ — that’s better, but let’s wait before deciding on it. There’s car about TERE, which suggests a CAR wrapped around a broken TREE — can that be improved? We can perhaps provide a rather gruesome entertainment by making a car crash and wrap itself round a tree, and after some thought about the wording, produce: “Car around tree, having crashed, can provide entertainment [7]”.

Thus the solver is told that CAR, around TREE that has crashed, or changed its shape, may become CA-TERE-R, who is someone who can provide entertainment. And we’ve had to employ a second part-anagram — this must be our last one in this puzzle.

19 Down: DORSAL. A dorsal fin is one which is found on, or at, the back of a fish. Now what can we put at the back? Reverse of ROD + SAL? What about “Staff turns up with Sarah, at the back”? Very dull. There’s also D (a penny) +0R+SAL. Luckily Penny is a girl’s name (which goes sensibly with sa), and if we put it as the first word in the clue, the capital letter will read naturally. This gives us: “Penny or Sarah should go in, at the back [6]”.

22 Down: OPAL. Even with so short a word, several ideas are suggested by the letters. There’s OP. (short for a musical work) and AL (nearly ALL, or a familiar name for Albert, etc.). Connect this with a gem found in a necklace or ring, and you could have “Make short work with Albert in the ring’. The weakness there is that one makes short work of, not with, so let’s abandon it.

The reverse of LAP + O doesn’t look very promising; nor does PA in the reverse of LO. What about the straightforward 0 + PAL? “Love a friend, one in the ring?” That’s not bad, but it’s not an easily imagined situation. The same O—PAL could represent a person addressing his friend with the words “O pal!”, and it’s quite easy to picture a boxer’s friend shouting advice to him from outside the ring. Here we are, then: “Address to a friend, one that’s in the ring? [4]”.

A final reminder that, since an opal might be found in a ring, a brooch, a bracelet, etc., we can’t say definitely that it is in the ring, but we can suggest the possibility — hence the question-mark.

Now that the clues are complete, we hope that we have managed to provide a puzzle that is both interesting and challenging to the average solver, and that we have introduced a reasonable variety of types of clue. The attempt to cover as many different aspects of “cluemanship’” as possible may have given some of the clues an element of stiffness which a typical Everyman would avoid. But since in this case all the answers have been given and the clues explained, perhaps not too many solvers will complain about the difficulty!

There can, happily, be no final word on clueing methods, because one can never fully forecast what new trains of thought the sight or sound of a given word or phrase will set in motion.

Nor can one anticipate the extent to which the English language can be manipulated with ingenuity and freshness. Nevertheless it is hoped that enough diversity has been provided here to point the way, and to give a fairly revealing insight into the workings of what one clue-writer likes to think of as his mind.