14 OCTOBER 1966, Page 4

The New Jerusalem

And did a Countenance Benign Shine forth upon our clouded goals? And was Befoozleum buried here Among these stark Satanic polls?

Bring me my fudged reserve of gold.

Bring me my pound of Stop-and-Go. Bring me my pipes—both hot and cold—

Bring me a trumpet I can blow.

I will not cease from Public Life Nor shall the tongue cease in my head, Till we've unbuilt Gefoozleum

And turned it upside down instead.

CHRISTOPHER HOLLIS