> On Fri, 08 Aug 2008 20:43:40 +0100, Baldoni wrote:
>
>
>

>> Mau Mau

>
> Which reminds me of this gem:
>
> John Cooper Clark - Post-War Glamour Girls
>
> Espresso bongo snaps of Rome
> in the Latin quarter of the ideal home
> fucks all day and sleeps alone
> just a tiger rug and a telephone
> says a post war glamour girl’s never alone.
>
> in the seventh heaven on the thirteenth floor
> sweethearts counterparts kiss
> limbo dancers under the door
> where human dynamos piss
> adults only over her pubes
> debutantes they give her dubes
> beatniks visit with saxophones
> and the way she eats her toblerone
> says a post war glamour girl is never alone.
>
> mau mau lovers come and go
> dreamboats leave her behind
> a baby-doll to go man go
> on the slopes of the adult mind
> a murder mystery walk-on part
> a dead body or a gangland tart
> near the knuckle close to home
> criminal connections you can’t condone
> a non-doctor’s anonymous drone
> says a post war glamour girl’s never alone.
>
> the section of the populace
> they call the clientele
> the moguls of metropolis
> defenestrate themselves
> in the clothes of a rabbit
> you develop a twitch
> one of the little sisters of the rich
> amorous cameras clamour and click
> her rosary beads are really bones
> rebel rebel they bug your phone
> the post war glamour girl’s never alone.
>
> yes there’s always a method actor hanging about
> there goes Mr tic-tac out of the back
> with some bric-a-brac from the knick-knack rack
> the dumb waiter reminds you of home
> and the nice boy from Sierra Leone
> the action painter’s got up and gone
> nevertheless it’s never been known
> for a post war glamour girl ever to be
> what you would call
> irrevocably
> alone.