Outside Peabody flats, we uncover a cache
of Health & Efficiency magazines studded
with nude women poised in mountains
lustily inhaling spring air. Naughty as that.
Our play is a happening, spurred by the accidental,
which is why I’m starkers (never knew you dyed your hair)
with the audience’s mince pies on Jeff Nuttall,
fleshy, naked, writhing like a sci-fi slug.
.
Joan Byrne
Oval Theatre, London, 1971
.