Some of you might rememebr a magazine published earlier in the decade of the same name. Inspired by Yoko Ono's bottom film the editors thought seriously about asking contributors to photograph their hind quarters which would then be posted (appropriately) on its back cover. Alas time and a less than enthusiastic response from a number of the poets put paid to our little scheme. Imagine my delight therefore on discovering in my camera this picture taken anonymously at some point during Sophie Robinson and Peter Philpott's reading earlier this month at Crossing the Line. Cul de qui indeed! A little birdie informed me last night whose arse it might be. Can you guess?