Azed’s clue-writing competition: the end of an era, and a celebration to come

Photograph by Antonio Olmos for The Observer 

Once a month, for 80 years, something unusual has happened in The Observer. A cryptic crossword appears with one clue marked by an asterisk. But that clue isn’t cryptic at all. It’s a simple definition. Solvers complete the grid and find the word. Then the game inverts. Solvers become compilers. They write their own cryptic clue for that word and send it in to be judged.

This month, after 54 of those years, Jonathan Crowther steps down from judging that competition. And this March, we celebrate the centenary of the cryptic crossword legacy he has so long been a part of.

Jonathan, who has set this crossword under the pseudonym Azed since 1972, will continue to publish one plain crossword a month. However, as he writes, the administrative burden of the Slip, the Honours List, and judging hundreds of clues each month requires more than he can give.

To understand this change and what we are celebrating, you need to know how it all began.

The cryptic crossword itself started in the pages of The Observer in 1926, when Edward Powys Mathers, under his pseudonym, Torquemada, first challenged readers with a new kind of puzzle. Torquemada held the role until his death, naming as his heir a Classics master from Christ’s Hospital school in Sussex, Derrick Macnutt, who went on to set under the pseudonym Ximenes. It was Ximenes who started the clue-writing competition. He, too, held the role until his death, naming a young man, Jonathan Crowther, as his heir, who has held the title of Azed since 1972.

Torquemada to Ximenes to Azed. Neither of the first two ever retired. They held the role until they died, with each new setter inheriting not just a puzzle but a community, a tradition, a standard.

Every cryptic puzzler knows Jonathan inherited the crossword from Macnutt. What most people don’t know is that the connection between them began years earlier, through someone who had no interest in cryptics at all.

Jonathan’s wife, Ali, grew up knowing the Macnutt family. Her father taught at Christ’s Hospital alongside Macnutt. She was friends with his daughter, Penny, when they were children. But Ali’s father died when she was eight, and the family moved away to Oxford. That chapter closed.

Years later, Ali trained as a staff nurse and then worked as a chalet girl in the Alps. She wanted to learn to ski. During her third season in St Anton, she attended a party where Jonathan was among the guests. She noticed him. Nothing happened. Months later, in London, they met again by chance at another party. This time, Ali invited him back to her flat on the Old Brompton Road for something to eat. She dashed out for food and returned to find Jonathan had finished the Times crossword.

“Oh, that’s so impressive,” she said.

He told her he had just started, only a few months earlier, compiling the cryptic crossword for The Observer. Taking over from Derrick Macnutt.

The same Derrick Macnutt whose daughter she had played with as a child. The same crossword her father’s colleague had set. The circles had overlapped without anyone knowing they were circles at all.

Ali and Jonathan married, and for more than 50 years she and their sons, Ned and Tom, have been part of the Azed community. Welcoming solvers to lunches, exchanging Christmas cards, and building friendships with the circle that gathered around this puzzle.

“I was so grateful, and so enjoyed being part of the Azed Club,” Ali wrote in her own farewell note this month. “Wherever we land in Oxford, you will always be welcome visitors.”

I have been part of the Azed community for nearly a decade, working behind the scenes at The Observer. I’ve had the privilege of collaborating with Jonathan on the puzzle at the heart of this paper’s history. He has taught me more about precision, clarity, and holding the line than anyone else I’ve worked with. Exacting, yes, but always for the right reasons.

This month, the final Slip went out to competitors. In it, Jonathan announced his retirement from the clue-writing competition.

Under Jonathan, the competition has ended. But the tradition will continue. The clue-writing competition has run for 80 years, first under Ximenes, then under Azed. There was a pause between them, while Jonathan settled into his role. Now there will be another. The competition will return, in time, under Gemelo, Jonathan’s cryptic colleague, who is already building his relationship with the Azed community.

In the meantime, we celebrate.

This year marks the centenary of The Observer’s cryptic crossword. One hundred years since Torquemada first set a puzzle in these pages. To mark the occasion, we are hosting an event at The Observer on 19 March.

Jonathan will be there.

We will screen a new film about Azed and the legacy of this crossword, featuring interviews with his family and the regular winners of the Slip. There will be live puzzle solving and a panel discussion with our setters. This is the first public announcement of this event. Tickets available now.

If you have ever solved an Azed, submitted a clue, or wondered what all the fuss is about, come and find out.

I’ll let Jonathan have the last word.

“It has been one of the great joys of my tenure as Azed to read and judge your clues, which have always been delightful, challenging, and expertly set. A decent cryptic crossword clue is like a good short story or poem; it packs a lot in and often reveals itself with playfulness and elegance. I can’t begin to tell you all the times I have been bowled over, tickled, and awe-struck by your many clues, and I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for all of them.”

You can read Jonathan’s final Slip here.