Which means I'm going to talk you through some of the cryptic crossword I did on the bus home. Not all of it. That would take ages. Bits of it.
Cryptic crosswords are a funny thing. They're very peculiarly British - the harder crosswords you find in the New York Times just aren't the same - and very few people my age will admit to doing them. For many people of any age they're a complete and utter mystery. But I'm sick of my hobbies being impenetrable mysteries to all and sundry, so I'm going to try to explain how they work, in a maybe misguided attempt to make them popular.
Let's get started, then. All those of you who are serious about learning how to do cryptic crosswords might want to open up today's Grauniad effort in a new tab. Done? Good.
First, the basics. The first thing you need to know about cryptic crosswords is that although the clues might seem like bollocks, they're mostly written in the same way. Every clue contains two ways of getting the answer: one part of the clue will be the definition of the answer, and the other part of the clue will be some wordplay that also leads to the answer. This wordplay can take loads and loads and loads of different forms, but we'll deal with anagrams first - they're always, pretty much without exception, the easiest type of clue to do.
Consider this quick crossword clue: Arse (8).
The answer's BACKSIDE. If you got it, well done (not that you had to look far).
Now consider this cryptic crossword clue: A sickbed changed? Arse! (8)
The answer's still BACKSIDE, but there's a second route to the clue: the letters of 'a sickbed', changed around, also make BACKSIDE.
So yep. Two ways of getting the answer. Definition, and wordplay.
Now, if we look at today's Grauniad crossword (which I'm linking to again in case you didn't open it up in a new tab the first time), we'll see that there are five clues which work along the same lines. Those are:
No fab clues - as an anagram is apt to be misleading (10)
Loving Gordian knots (7)
One given top billing in England? I'm a stranger! (7,3)
This bean may be transformed into a drink (8)
Palace official troubling monarch with "Dear Bill" letters (4,11)
In each of those clues, there's an 'anagram indicator' word or phrase - or 'anagrind' as some people call it - that tells you to rearrange the letters of another word or phrase to get to the answer. And, of course, there's the definition of the answer too.
Now, if I stick the 'anagram indicators' in bold and underline the definitions, but leave you to choose which letters to rearrange - in most cases it'll be obvious - you should be able to get these clues:
No fab clues - as an anagram is apt to be misleading (10)
Loving Gordian knots (7)
One given top billing in England? I'm a stranger! (7,3)
This bean may be transformed into a drink (8)
Palace official troubling monarch with "Dear Bill" letters (4,11)
And lo, here are the answers:
1. 'No fab clues' rearranges to CONFUSABLE, or 'apt to be misleading'
2. 'Gordian' rearranges to ADORING, or 'loving'
3. 'England? I'm a' rearranges to LEADING MAN, or 'one given top billing'
4. 'This bean' rearranges to ABSINTHE, which is a drink
5. Trickier, this one: 'monarch', with the letters in 'Dear Bill', rearranges to LORD CHAMBERLAIN, a 'palace official'.
You should now be able to do the anagram clues in any cryptic crossword. And with that, I'm off to bed - see you tomorrow!
EXTRA BIT 1:
I should imagine you've noticed that all 'anagrinds' are words to do with change, confusion or weirdness. It's rare to get a clue as straightforward as the first one, which baldly says "I am an anagram!". Usually, you'll see words like 'stranger', 'troubling', 'knots', 'transformed', 'refurbished' and so on and so forth.
EXTRA BIT 2:
You'll have also noticed that definitions mainly, with a few exceptions - more on which later - come at the start or end of a cryptic crossword clue. If you have to hunt around in the middle of a clue for a definition, then the setter is doing it wrong.
That's really it this time. More crossword stuff next Wednesday!
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