A versified excerpt from a conversation (I use the term loosely, as it was a bit hard to get a word in at the time). The title is not a misprint. No prize but much admiration for the first to decipher it:
Rhyme #9: Memento Moro
‘The kids today have no idea.
You must know, you’re about my age.
They think it was all Germaine Greer,
fat Elvis, punk, glam rock – no beige.
The seventies, in these confected
histories were cool, protected
from the darkness of our times:
all showbiz, glitz and fashion crimes.
I tell them of Brigate Rosse,
Baader-Meinhoff, Patty Hearst,
the Shining Path: there was a thirst
for violence then. It wasn’t glossy.
Look, where the light of memory dims,
at Lord Mountbatten’s scattered limbs.’
Me fail? I fly! 