a square of denim, squareness imposed

by the photograph containing its image,

buttons done up; head level, tapering into

a kind of wedge which one might call the nose;

all's quiet, the houses smoking, hills deserted



 the virgin has sumptuous hair, the child god set aside,

her hands clasped together loosely in an ill-fitting jumper.



 Usually all the religious icons have been smashed.

He clenches his fist, but does not look at anyone.

The sleeping bag slips slowly off the bed, half unzipped, flaps

folded back, turned down like lapels;

or skin and flesh in a bungled operation;

a joke gorilla breaks through the forest,

pretending to be the god of war,

but no one believes in it;

a young girl scratches her head,

a sign of sophisticated bewilderment

because she is smiling

and does not seem to be at all afraid.



 Winter is close: the flat extremities

of the inhabitants cast low shadows

and do not raise themselves above the artificial

darkness coming in off the sea; all growl

at each other and attempt to speak,

but no one succeeds in communicating anything

beyond malice.



 Two headless corpses have been laid, face up,

upon each other; hands which slapped together

in a childish game; one man's shirt is glistening

with blood; she looks up at him from the warm floor;

firelight reflects off a bright cheek;

she is smiling; she is welcoming; he hesitates

and then he speaks. She does not listen.



 The steps of the pyramid rise towards midday sun.

A rotten cow's head feeds flies. It is the autumn.

The people have no hope of returning to their homes;

but, perhaps, if they can stop laughing, there is still something

to be done. There shall be no escape, but there is a chance

that some sense of community may be faked in these circumstances,

despite all. They gain nothing by submission,

except heavier burdens. Whether their masters quarrel

with each other or agree, their bondage is equally ruinous.

There is too much salt in the soil for proper crops.

There is too much sulphur in the air to breathe correctly;

but a sniggering sort of laughter is permissible.



 Headless corpses descend the escalator.

An attendant calls out the range for the buyers to hear:

green over blue, blue over blue, blue denim. Squared off blues

in curving shapes. Our heavyweight stone-washed classic

is a real classic. Nothing is any longer safe from their greed and lust

yet what a mere handful the invaders are.



 She adopts the stance of a man and leans upon his shoulder.

He affects not to see her. He does not reject the advance.

He puts on his glasses, throws his jacket backwards

over the other shoulder, and looks into the middle distance

with smug assurance: blue denim, blue over blue, ecru, black.

There are two styles for men and one for ladies.

Blue denim, blue over blue, green over blue, ecru and black.

Her majesty's equerry takes over the microphone. Looks like

an elongated diamond or a double-headed axe. Bottle. Navy.

Raspberry. White. Cut from a generously-sized unisex block.

Can be worn on its own or underneath a jacket, giving a smart

but casual look. Style reference Alan. He is on his own.

The sky has darkened. Leggings are made from our soft quality cotton.

There is ample evidence that pepper sprays are only mildly carcinogenic

and are not therefore greatly deleterious to health

unless the target should be grossly asthmatic. Camel; khaki;

ecru; taupe. Style reference Stan, who has nearly thirty years with the
force.



 We must not be scared by the loss of one or two battles.

Wear your best working clothes, put your hand behind your head

and stretch and laugh. Ankle length. Black, navy, grey marl, ecru.

Everyone should have several of these in their wardrobe.

He pulls a brick from the wall and hurls it towards the enemy;

but they laugh as they come forward. They have water-cannon;

they have rockets; they have curved sticks set with broken glass;

they have the newspapers behind them and bright lights to dazzle.

One size fits all. The same paralysis in the face of the foe;

the same insubordination towards that which had been agreed.

She, however, wore his boots and wore them to great effect,

one leg curled around her, one leg cocked, elbow on it at the knee,

the hand of the other arm and hand sub-system clutching

the ankle of the leg curled round her. She had full lips

and slightly tousled hair; her smile suggested honour and dignity

but stopped short of bloodshed.



 The kids came out of the woods after a hard struggle:

bottle, red, navy, white, birch grey. They were made

from the same heavy fabric as their parents,

the summer now far spent, and they were watching

the points where danger threatens. Bottle; black; navy; birch grey.

Everything combines to hinder or delay a new campaign. Bottles,

broken in fights or by carelessness, it hardly matters. Birch grey,

alder, oak and ash. White where the fires burned the fiercest.

Red of your blood --



 Cut out the sentimentality. Cut out

all of it or I'll cut it out of you myself.

The plan was hastily conceived.

Some of them were self-assured;

some of them tried to smile and look composed.

None wanted to fight. None wanted to retreat. None wanted to die.

They copied each others' identity papers and pretended

to relationships they did not have. Black, navy, green and red,

Bordeaux and green, style reference Rome. The strong carried the weak.

None were well but most survived and all contained their rage

until there should be some possibility of retribution. Navy, dark red,

olive, petrol; black, navy, bottle of wine; dark denim, light denim,

they were suddenly upon us, swimming whilst carrying their arms,

their horses under control, the background music synched

to the camera. What could embarrass or defeat a foe who attacked like that?



 The photographs do not do justice to this excellent piece.

A small roll neck, the head disabled or cut off.

Other features include an open welt.



 She turns her back to the camera, then turns her head to face it.

The hair flounces forward with the movement; the face starts to smile.

The hands are wrong; the jumper's shapeless; but the guns

are in position and the population has been gradually led

into the demoralising temptations of arcades,baths and banquets.



 This is an established classic and is equally suitable for men and women.

He stands behind her with the gun in the small of her back.

They smile at the commandant who is baffled and in despair.

Black. Indigo. Black, indigo. And then she gets the joke

and she just can't stop laughing. I'm going to fall off the log,

you bastard, she says. A woman passing with her dog on a leash

tries to look shocked, can't quite make it. Flecks of mud stain

his white shirt. Slowly she takes off the superfluous rain coat

to reveal her jacket, nautical blue, cactus, India ink.

We've chosen this jacket with great care.

Produced from the finest, heavy grain hide,

it is really a substantial garment. It will get better and better

with age whilst keeping out the worst that the English winter

can throw at you, whilst looking incredibly stylish as well.



 When I consider the motives we have for fighting

and the critical positions we are in, I have a strong feeling

that the united front you are showing today will mean

the dawn of liberty for the whole of Britain.