The Competition Problem

I was woken at just after 6.30 one morning by a hammering on my back door.

I threw on some clothes and hurried downstairs, where Alun was waving a piece of paper with an excited grin on his face.

“It’s the mainland council,” Jed, he said, “they’ve announced a competition for the best kept island. The winning island gets £100.”

“Well that’s £100 in the bank,” I said, “we’re easily the best-kept island. Just look at the others.”

I was telling the truth. Alun puts in a great deal of work to tidy keep the island looking tidy. He gets up incredibly early every morning, and with no distractions like people, or things to do, he spends a lot of his time making our island the tidiest in the whole archipelago.

“Well I’m not leaving it to chance Jed. I’m going to Refrigerator bay to oil the abandoned fridges, to prevent them rusting. I might give them a lick of white paint.

“And I’ll take my geep for a walk to the North of the island. The grass there is a bit overgrown, and they can graze it trim again.”

Over the next few weeks we put in a great deal of effort ahead of the judges’ visit. Alun cleaned the gravestones of the fallen smokers on Smokers Bay, I painted the outside of the empty house and even polished the brass plaque commemorating Professor Mary Beard’s visit. On the day before the visit I washed my geep and Alun climbed up Elephant Mountain to clean the elephants. By the end of the day the island had simply never looked so beautiful.

The day of the council’s decision I was woken early by a hammering on my back door. I ran downstairs to find Alun again waving a letter, though this time in anger, rather than joy.

“We didn’t win Jed, we didn’t win. They’ve given the prize to Neat and Tidy Island instead.”

“Neat and Tidy Island? How on earth did they beat us? What do they say?”

“Read it for yourself Jed.”

The letter was full of the usual council verbiage, and it wasn’t until page 3 that it addressed the reasons why our island had failed to win: “The island scored highly for its nice and tidy appearance. The abandoned fridges had been well oiled and had benefited from a recent coat of paint. The geep and elephants were clean and well groomed, the grass was trim and the brass plaque commemorating Mary Beard’s visit was glimmering in the morning sunlight. However, the overall look of the island was led down by the attire and general appearance of its residents, which is why we felt that the island didn’t merit the coveted award.”

“That’s it Jed. The final insult. I’ve had enough of these insinuations that I’m unclean. I’m going to invest in a bath and a washing machine.”

“A bath and a washing machine? But how on Earth will you afford those?”

“With the money I made betting that Neat and Tidy Island would win the competition, Jed. £200! I knew that however smart our island looked they’d never give us the award with me dressed like this.”

“Then why have we spend the last fortnight cleaning the entire island?”

“To fix the odds Jed, to fix the odds. It’s the first rule of rigging any bet, always clean the fridges and hide the residents.”

I have known Alun all my life, but every now and then he still manages to surprise me.