The eel fisherman Paddles his flat-bottomed boat Between the tall reeds Funnelling himself Into his life, while his prey Glides towards a trap In fatalistic Innocence, silent victim Of an unfair fight To which it has not Been challenged. Nor can the man Escape this channel.

Sometimes, when conventional treatments seem not to be working, there remains no alternative but to seek more esoteric advice. Well, I’ve been ingesting high-dosage chemicals for three weeks now, and yet it feels like every night a storm comes and throws another beachload of shingles at the side of my head. So the time came…

‘Scum!’ they called me, parumpapumpum But it’s not my fault, you see, parumpapumpum I blame my dad for me, parumpapumpum Him and my mum. For making me scum. Sing it in the bath for Christmas.