I’ve never been the sort of poet who likes nothing better than to rant and raves about ‘issues’. There are things I disagree with, there are things which might even provoke me to verse, but I’ve reached an age where fleeing the city with only the clothes I stand up in has lost whatever attraction it might once have had. Not only that but I’ve done it a number of times and the romance soon wears off.

Some poets hope to make a name by offending the rich and powerful. People often admire them for their fearlessness, but you have to realise that these poets survive only because they are protected by others who are as rich and powerful as the people the poet is offending.

My admiration is for those who offend those who need offending and appear to have no fear of the consequences. Thus I propose to bring you the tale of Mollina.

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