Sometime in the late autumn of 1977, I went to a book party that was held in the Rosebery Room of the House of Lords. Why I went I can’t think – the volume was some piece of unreadable bufferdom extruded by Lord Butler […].

Also an octolingual Yugoslavian who was a lieutenant in the French Foreign Legion and was imprisoned in Buchenwald during the war, a Berlin business man, an economics professor and a girl who was the private secretary for Dinah Shore for three years.

Maybe he's doin' a run to Shakey Town where some lot lizard checks his dip stick.

Grind with strong arm, the circling chertz betwixt, / Your pure Ka-o-lins and Pe-tun-tses mixt […] .