Name Our Champion!

Thank you to all who participated in TFLFN's first competition. The three entrants all put forth excellent effort. My sincerest thanks to all of you!

Please read the entries, collected below for your convenience, and comment with your selection for the winner! In case of a tie, I will cast the winning vote. (That's right. No random number generator, no tiebreaker round. It's a cut-throat game we play here in the wilds of whimsy.)

Voting will be open until Thursday evening. I will announce the winner on Friday, and notify them personally of their boon.

Entry 1:
Are you addressing me?

Are you addressing me?

...No others are present. Improbable as it may seem, you are, indeed, addressing me.

Oh, my goodness, what have we here? Why, it seems to be a can of high-test, grade-A Thrash-Arse. Shall I open it? Some may spill on you...

...oh, dear, it looks like I've shaken it, haven't I?

Entry 2:
You seem to find this fait accompli, But my lexicon, which you'll soon see
Far outstrips your pedigree, my mots are bon, you must agree.

Your cadence is lacking, And the pressure is stacking
I fear that you're slacking, your facade is cracking.

Now you should know, before you return, your maternal figure's a slattern
And also that she's got such girth, The sun mistook her for our Earth

Now run along, enjoy the burn, I slammed you like a particle at CERN
Keep cognizant, for what it's worth. I've been transcendent ever since birth.

Entry 3:
Your tardigrade ways shall not distract me from my chargeship, you Cyprian mopsy. Actum aiunt ne agas. That is to say, my berth in this venture is to make manifest your etourderie. It is reptatorial at best. You need but amend this voltaic quire hebdomadally and yet you cannot even manage that. Your "comic" need not even be limned. Not even so much as a calotype to be developed. Do you not realize that you are now but a donzel to the public? Et faute de mieux? Rein.

While I myself have the artistic adroitness of Olphert Stanfield, I at least have the perspicacity to engage a draughtswoman to render my concordance. Mayhap in futurity, you might pullulate the sagacity to do the same.