Last night's leader's debate - aired on the dastardly Sky News channel - yielded no clear winner. Indeed, the earlier Cleggmania has faded somewhat, as the new dog with the new tricks became old hat. He used names looked into the camera, and basically made the same claims about being different. Ho hum. But Clegg did have clear and different policies on Europe, Trident, and immigration - all left-field and quite brave. Brown was better than I have ever seen him: angry, principled, and informative; he seemed to have a fire in his belly at last. He claimed Nick was anti-American and bad for security, and David anti-Europe and bad for the economy. Cameron - to my mind - was the weakest - though his calm upper-crust "Gap Yah" delivery was at least less shaky than first time out, and he seemed to score points about the campaign literature scare tactics that Brown may or may not have authorised. Eyewear is now on the fence, between Labour and the Lib Dems. I wait to see the last debate next week.
THAT HANDSOME MAN A PERSONAL BRIEF REVIEW BY TODD SWIFT I could lie and claim Larkin, Yeats , or Dylan Thomas most excited me as a young poet, or even Pound or FT Prince - but the truth be told, it was Thom Gunn I first and most loved when I was young. Precisely, I fell in love with his first two collections, written under a formalist, Elizabethan ( Fulke Greville mainly), Yvor Winters triad of influences - uniquely fused with an interest in homerotica, pop culture ( Brando, Elvis , motorcycles). His best poem 'On The Move' is oddly presented here without the quote that began it usually - Man, you gotta go - which I loved. Gunn was - and remains - so thrilling, to me at least, because so odd. His elegance, poise, and intelligence is all about display, about surface - but the surface of a panther, who ripples with strength beneath the skin. With Gunn, you dressed to have sex. Or so I thought. Because I was queer (I maintain the right to lay claim to that
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