GORDON PARSONS appreciates fine performances and a feel for ambiguity, but misses the music of the dialogue
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Three poems by Michael Shann
Well Versed is edited by JODY PORTER
DOUGLAS FIELD relishes the hard-boiled language, satire and humour of the third and last of the Harlem trilogy
STEPHANIE BROWN draws attention to the hidden labour of the female embroiderers, and how a 19th century replica made no such error
MIK SABIERS revels in a band that ploughs an idiosyncratic furrow of expletive laden, guitar-driven alt rock
ANDY HEDGECOCK, MARIA DUARTE and ANGUS REID review Synthetic Sincerity, Our Hero, Balthazar, Heartstopper Forever, and A Year In London
The bard invites readers to a gig, raps for Clacton, and lays out the Burnham-Hurzeler conundrum
RON JACOBS recommends an important book that enhances the oppositional theories put forth by Fanon and, in doing so, remakes psychology itself
Ian Dury at Walthamstow Art College
I see him now at the top of the steps,
leaning against that tall Grecian pillar.
No photo survives, but there he is:
turned-up drainpipes, Docs, the grin and ear-ring.
It was all in place, the casual
tilt of his cap, the cocky angle
of his stick, and the song-spring trickling
through his mind, about to be discovered.
The Bakers Arms
An insidious blight’s spreading round here,
it frays men’s minds like ten pints of beer.
Its windows are clean, it’s quiet and smart,
it empties a man’s wallet, drains his heart.
For a fat chance, for a slimmer profit,
he’ll take the odds with the child benefit.
An insidious blight’s is spreading round here,
it frays men’s minds like ten pints of beer.
Note: In 2010, after 142 years as a pub,
The Bakers Arms became a betting shop.
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