Fearing another vintage torture session alongside a Championship Qualifier, I was relieved – or even a little disappointed – to receive this relatively straightforward but enjoyable puzzle, solved in 20 minutes over the tea and toast.
There’s quite a wild collection of nouns in these answers; I started to speculate about the short story you could come up with, if instructed to use as many of these words as possible in it; drugs, toilets, dodgy trousers, a vertically challenged artist, seductive women… best entry wins a turn head-first down 27a? [enough – Ed.]
| Across |
| 1 |
SUPPORTER – SUP = drink, PORTER = a drink, def. one behind another, a backer. |
| 6 |
TURIN – TURN = go, around the I of Italy; Turin or Torino was the first capital city of Italy from its proclamation in 1861 and in my experience has the best restaurants in the country. |
| 9 |
GANJA – NAG = horse, reversed GAN, JA = yes in German etc., def. drug; marijuana, pot, weed, cannabis, especially so-called in the Caribbean. |
| 10 |
BRAINLESS – B = ultimately dumb; RAINLESS = clear; &lit. |
| 11 |
TOULOUSE-LAUTREC – TOULOUSE = European city, (CLARET U)*; I can recommend a visit to the T-L Museum in Albi, just up the road from Toulouse. |
| 13 |
LANDLORD – LAND = to catch, ‘supposedly drunk’ = drunk as a LORD; def. innkeeper. |
| 14 |
TENDON – TENON = part of a joint, insert D for died, def. tissue. |
| 15 |
OEUVRE – The LOUVRE = museum, not initialled = remove the L, insert E = heading for exhibition; def. work of art. Old French word for work. |
| 18 |
LAVATORY – LAVA = hot flower, TORY = blue, def. for the Ladies, perhaps. I spent a minute or two thinking H – river – loo before the penny (to spend) dropped. |
| 21 |
PITHECANTHROPUS – (NAP THE COURTSHIP)*, anagrind ‘sadly’. Java Man, homo erectus, hence ‘old man’. |
| 23 |
NEW JERSEY – Double definition; US State, and a possible new ‘top’. From Top Shop, perhaps. |
| 25 |
BAKER – BANKER = financier loses N = unspecified amount; def. one making a bloomer? A bloomer being a type of loaf. |
| 26 |
SEWER – Double definition, different pronunciations. |
| 27 |
CRESTA RUN – (AS CURRENT)*, anagrind ‘swirls’. I suspect ‘thrilling’ descent is an understatement. |
| Down |
| 1 |
SIGHT – Sounds like ‘site’; or even ‘cite’ (see below); a faculty or sense. |
| 2 |
PENGUIN SUIT – Cryptic definition, nickname for a dinner jacket. |
| 3 |
ON A ROLL – Double definition. |
| 4 |
TO BE SURE – (TRUE SO HE)*, anagrind curious; def. certainly. Bit of a weak anagram. In 14 years living in Ireland I can’t once remember a local saying ‘to be sure’ once, never mind twice (as in the yellow lines joke). |
| 5 |
REALLY – Cryptic double definition, of a sort. |
| 6 |
TONSURE – TON = heavy weight, SURE = certain, def. severe haircut. |
| 7 |
RUE – ROUE = philanderer, remove O = love; def. cry over. |
| 8 |
NOSE CANDY – NO, SEC = little time, AND = with, Y = end of February, def. snow, cocaine, blow. |
| 12 |
RED-HOT POKER – RED-HOT = passionate, POKER = game, def. one bedded. Kniphofia, a flower often found in beds and crosswords. |
| 13 |
LOON PANTS – LOTS = many, ‘clothes’ ON PAN = on youthful boy, LO(ON PAN)TS; def. seventies fashion; ridiculous looking trousers, now you see the photos, although at the time we thought they were pretty cool. |
| 15 |
CAT THYME – (AM TETCHY)*; def. plant. Teucrium Marum, for those who like to know these things; not a true thyme, a relative of germander, supposed to deter cats. |
| 17 |
ROE DEER – Sounds like ‘row, dear’; def. Bambi. Worth a groan. |
| 19 |
ACROBAT – A CROAT, insert B = bishop; def. one taking a tumble? |
| 20 |
PARSEC – PARSE = dissect, C = speed of light; def. a measure of astronomy. A parsec is the distance from the Sun to an astronomical object that has a parallax angle of one arcsecond; about 31 trillion kilometres. Our nearest star Proxima Centauri is about 1.3 parsecs away. |
| 22 |
SIREN – SIRE = father, N = Brown’s ultimate; def. charmer. |
| 24 |
WOW – Palindrome, def. incredible! |
I was of course shocked and outraged by some of the answers which ought not to grace a newspaper of quality as I’m sure others will agree. Another sign of moral decline.
Still, I was interested to learn that GANJA is not urban slang but originates in ganjika, the Sandskrit for the cannabis plant.
Didn’t know CAT THYME, which as a keeper of cats for many decades (but no longer) rather surprised me, particularly as I gather it’s a deterrent rather than an attractor (like cat mint), and the only substance I know which fulfils that purpose is lion dung.
Thought I didn’t know NOSE CANDY, but having looked it up and found the drug connection, I remember meeting it at least once before. Didn’t know TURIN as the original capital of Italy.
Nice puzzle though.
I rather enjoyed deezzaa’s “Sandskrit” (sorry, deezzaa!) for the vision it conjured up of Jesus writing on the ground when dealing with the woman caught in adultery and those he invited to cast the first stone.
Not to mention the vision (and other senses) set off by Jack’s lion dung. You have a stray cat problem in your garden, but the local garden centre might just be your answer.
Moreover, after my views yesterday youll be able to tell which side of the fence I come down on with the Dickens v science preference!
BTW thanks for all the suggestions re Dickens yesterday – I might give him another chance to impress me.
Has anyone else noticed that New Jersey Baker is, of course, Marilyn Monroe?
And is our setter trying to make a point linking ganja and nose candy with brainless?
The old man took some muttering/scribbling of anagram letters and, having led a very sheltered life, it did take a while for me to work out 8d too.
Anyway, I think that’s my first ever benchmarking. Groovy.
I can’t quite equate site with reference mindst.
Lots of half-knowns clearly and cleverly clued. Thanks setter and blogger.
I’m surprised at how many people had problems with PITHECANTHROPUS, but I suppose that, as with LOON PANTS, it helps if you’re over a certain age. Like Andy B, I knew the latter as “loons”, though I never actually wore them. Having said that, I have to admit that the trousers of the suit I wore for my wedding in 1976 weren’t all that far off the requirements of the ODO definition (“close-fitting casual trousers widely flared from the knees downwards”) apart from the “casual” bit.
A most enjoyable puzzle.