back end of the coal scuttlelived a boy who’s storyread like the entrailsof a fucked-up Philip Larkinhis was time well spenthe was the model good boyat his best, he was a gold starat his worst, a misdemeanour nowhere ever happenedwithin his sterile orbitwhile outside a revolutionmashed up on the streetsinside it was TV Timesand Top of the Popswith custard creams and teahe dreamed of some San