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[shockwave by courtesy of www.abowman.com ]

Who needs a fish-tank now ?

But maybe you were expecting a poem...

Here it is:



by Philip Larkin

Laughed the girl on the poster,
Kneeling up on the sand*
In tautened white satin.
Behind her, a hunk of coast, a
Hotel with palms
Seemed to expand from her thighs and
Raised breast-lifting arms.

She was slapped up one day in March.
A couple of weeks, and her face
Was snaggle-toothed and boss-eyed;
Huge tits and a fissured crotch
Were scored well in, and the space
Between her legs held scrawls
That set her fairly astride
A tuberous cock and balls

Autographed Titch Thomas, while
Someone had used a knife
Or something to stab right through
The moustached lips of her smile.
She was too good for this life.
Very soon, a great transverse tear
Left only a hand and some blue.
Now FIGHT CANCER is there.

Solarised Image

* I searched the web - first for the actual poster,
and then for one approximating to it.
Alas! no girl kneeling on a beach in white satin swimsuit
with arms outstretched.

So I adapted a Bognor Regis poster.


Prestatyn is at the Northern end of Offa's Dyke.


The poem reminds me of Shelley's marvellous OZYMANDIAS.



Here are more comments - and more posters
+ graffiti and defacings.




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"I do think foreign countries look vulgar and ruined."

(Letter to Monica 26 xi 1959)


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