The useless fin-de-siècle poet invented by Max Beerbohm is still making waves, 112 years after selling his soul to the Devil in exchange for an hour in the British Museum Reading Room in 1997. He hoped to find a century's worth of admiring criticism of his poems, but mysteriously there was none. Now, however…
1 comment:
Get to work blogging boy or I'll send the lazy polis round.
Norrie
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