The Dirtiest Picture Postcard (1974, Peter Cave)

 

He's a saucy lad that Peter Cave, a man who once put into print what few men today would dare to even privately think to themselves. In 'Skinhead Farewell' the 1996 BBC documentary about James Moffatt and other New English Library writers, the interview with Cave is announced by the fanfare of the 'Robin’s Nest' TV sitcom theme tune. An apt soundtrack choice, since Cave himself does tend to come across like Richard O'Sullivan's Robin Tripp character, had R. Tripp opted for a career in paperback writing rather than cookery.

The image of Cave as the archetypal, fun loving, freewheeling 1970s bloke is embraced and played up in The Dirtiest Picture Postcard, a teasingly, possibly autobiographical look into the life of a debauched hack writer in the 1970s. The focus of The Dirtiest Picture Postcard is John Sheffield, a successful author who decides to leave his awful wife and hightail it to a place referred to in the book as Chelston-On-Sea, but which is clearly a thinly veiled version of Cave's old stomping ground Torquay. There Sheffield plans to drink heavily, smoke lots of pot and screw lots of birds...and possibly write a bestselling book about the whole affair. On his tail is Murray Charles, a private detective hired by Sheffield's wife Martia to get dirt on Sheffield, in order for her to take him to the cleaners in the divorce courts. The book getting its name from Murray's promise to Martia that the info he'll bring back on Sheffield will be 'the Dirtiest Picture Postcard on the Pier'. Trouble is that Murray is a bumbling virgin, therefore ill-prepared for sexually decadent Torquay.

The Dirtiest Picture Postcard plays a constant guessing game over whether it belongs in the fiction or non-fiction section. Cave is extremely generous when it comes to sharing real-life characteristics with John Sheffield, who like Cave worked a series of dead end jobs before drifting into writing, first by the backdoor of pornography, before hitting it big by penning trashy paperbacks. At least one of Sheffield's lousy jobs on his way to the top is ripped straight out of Cave's own life. Sheffield at one point recalls being employed in a holiday camp as what amounts to a glorified killjoy "hired to stop sex in a place expressly designed to hold nine hundred people dedicated to screwing themselves silly for a fortnight". Only to get fired when his employers catch Sheffield in his underpants and presiding over a drunken orgy. All rather similar to an incident recalled in the 'about the author' bio piece in Cave's book 'The Crime Commandos', where Cave cops to having 'spent a year in Jersey working as a security guard in a holiday camp until the general manager found him at a drunken party in his underpants'. According to legend Cave hated that particular gig so much that the holiday camp which the Hells Angels trash in Chopper (1971) was specifically based on his former place of employment.

This in mind, you do have to wonder how much else of The Dirtiest Picture Postcard is true. The villainess of the piece, Martia, is a shrieking, money grabbing, nasty piece of work, which the book gleefully spills the beans on. Martia being a glamour model who got into porn thanks to her husband's contacts in the erotic lit world, and has seemingly graduated to acting in British sex films. Assuming Martia just wasn't a product of Cave's imagination, and there was such a corresponding woman in Cave's life who worked the glamour and British sex film scenes, is the former Mrs. Cave someone whose oeuvre I'm familiar with? Answers on a dirty postcard please.

Saying that The Dirtiest Picture Postcard is fundamentally a good natured romp, less a bad divorce novel, and more a celebration of excess and male bonding. Pot smoking, naked orgies on the beach, pissing contests, drink driving and partner swapping, it all goes on in swinging Torquay as Sheffield takes Murray under his wing , getting him drunk, getting him stoned and getting him laid.

Cave always seems like a writer who never placed great value on his work, and appears to have viewed writing as a lark, just another adventure in life. An attitude he shares with Sheffield who responds to Murray paying his books a compliment with "bollocks!... they're rubbish", but eventually concedes to them being "entertaining rubbish". For a man who'd likely respond to praise with a cynical guffaw, Cave did have the ability to turn his hand to just about whatever the publishers ordered. While his biker novels are what he is likely to be remembered for, his 1971 stab at erotic lit 'Hitch-hiker' is a forgotten classic of trash fiction, and evidence that Cave could knock out a one handed read as efficiently as two fisted material like The Crime Commandos. It's proof of his versatility that he could also write a relentlessly nasty book like Rogue Angels, then turn his hand to a filthy, but laugh out loud comedy here. I dare say that if the Carry On people had put Cave on the payroll in the early 1970s, he might well have saved that series.

If you take nothing else away from The Dirtiest Picture Postcard it's that Peter Cave sure knew how to party, a night on the tiles with Cave’s  alter-ego leaving Murray with a hangover described as there being two drunken leprechauns dancing in Murray's skull and throwing whisky bottles at the backs of his eyeballs. The Dirtiest Picture Postcard also puts Cave in the frame for being obsessed with big tits. One of his side characters, Don, is a boorish barman with an ability to turn any conversion back to the subject of large knockers "the bigger the better I always say...something to bury your ears in on a winter's night" but Cave sure can give the likes of Don a run for their money, whilst playing to their favourite fetish. "John Sheffield awoke in the serpent-like clutches of a slightly cross eyed Danish nymphomaniac with an impossible breast measurement of 50 inches and the incredible ability to use them as masturbatory objects". Nearly every female character in this book is big boobed and a raging alcoholic, read into that what you will.

By making Murray the protagonist, rather than Sheffield himself, we are forced to see things through the rented eyes of someone who isn't quite sure if he's got the measure of Sheffield, and suspects that a deeper person lies beneath the hedonistic exterior. There are moments in The Dirtiest Picture Postcard where you feel Cave's own mask slipping, and a sense of an author putting himself on the psychiatrist's couch "life has shown me most of what it has to offer and there’s nothing new anymore... no excitement, no interest. I write books based on my own life and give the characters the excitement I should be feeling personally" muses a glum Sheffield.

At the same time, because of the book's outsider point of view, neither Murray nor the reader can be totally sure if we're getting the whole truth and nothing but the truth, or merely being lead a merry dance by this joker. At one point Murray diagnoses Sheffield as "living up to the truist tradition of the artist. The sad man behind the clown's mask, the deep thinker hidden inside the extrovert, the poet hiding under the hack writer". Which causes Sheffield to break down "it's all games you see, a constant and boring game of charades". Sheffield then starts laughing, tells Murray he wasn't being serious and was in fact channeling the disillusioned, jaded character he is currently trying to write a book about "I always tend to get really hung up with my characters when I’m halfway through a book". So, let's get this straight The Dirtiest Picture Postcard is a book in which Peter Cave writes about a character called John Sheffield, in which Sheffield is writing about a character who may or may not be based on John Sheffield, who in turn may or may not be based on Peter Cave. For a quickie, sex comedy paperback, The Dirtiest Picture Postcard sure gets complex, not to mention incredibly meta, at times.

It would be remiss of me not to mention the one moment in The Dirtiest Picture Postcard were Cave loses his mind and writes something so tonally at odds with the good time vibes of this book. Still, you have to hand it to the man, when Cave does inappropriate, tonally misjudged material, he really goes to town. The point in the book in question being when Murray gets a dinner date with Jenny Shaw, the token 'good girl' of the book, who is a full time sociology student and part time feminist "I only believe in women's lib when it suits me". Their romantic conversation turns, as they often do, to sexual assault, where Jenny shocks Murray with her claim that as a sociologist and feminist she believes "rape is a physical impossibility...in this day and age anyway". Murray responds to this by grabbing her by the throat, attempting to choke her unconscious, while using his other hand to grope up her skirt "gripping the thin material of her panties between finger and thumb, he pulled it back and let go, hearing the vicious snap of tight elastic against her skin with sadistic pleasure". Murray then tells her that if they weren't in a public place, he would have been able to go on and rape her, and therefore that is why she needs to be taking the threat of sexual assault more seriously "you couldn't scream and you'd stand no chance against my superior strength. So rape is a physical impossibility, huh?"  After this incident, we're meant to believe that romance could still blossom between these two, in spite of Murray wigging out and having his little Frank Booth/Blue Velvet moment there.

Negatives to The Dirtiest Picture Postcard are that the love story between Murray and Jenny is pretty boring and threatens to get in the way of the fun. Despite the ever present threat of Martia, the book doesn't have much of a dramatic backbone either. It's all very laid back...about people letting their hair down, partying hard and having no idea what to do with the rest of their lives. The uncharacteristically open ending of The Dirtiest Picture Postcard likely due to Cave setting up a sex comedy series here, the adventures of John Sheffield continuing in White Line Fever (1975), West Coast Wildcatting (1975) and concluding with High Flying Birds (1976).

I'm in little doubt that Peter Cave had lots of fun writing this book, and also possibly living it. The overall impression you get from The Dirtiest Picture Postcard is that Peter Cave either lead a wild life back then, or just had a dirty mind, but one thing we can all agree on in that the man wrote some rubbish...but it’s entertaining rubbish.

The Shiny Narrow Grin (Jane Gaskell, 1964)

 

I became aware of Jane Gaskell while doing research into whether any Yob-lit had ever been written by women. This lead me to her 1969 book 'A Sweet, Sweet Summer' that had been re-published by Sphere in 1971, and made to look a teen Yob novel, with a cover featuring a cigarette smoking tough girl brandishing a bottle. Which makes you wonder what someone signing up for A Sweet, Sweet Summer on the basis of that cover alone, and expecting your standard James Moffatt type aggro, would have made of the avalanche of weird hippie shit that Gaskell threw at the audience with that book. A Sweet, Sweet Summer being a satirical, dystopian sci-fi novel in which UFOs take control of Britain, publicly execute Ringo Starr, and encourage political extremists...the fascists, the communists, the IRA...to run riot.

The other entry in her bibliography that jumps out at you is 'The Shiny Narrow Grin'. A 1964 mod-era vampire novel about Terry, a young girl who despite still attending school, is otherwise enjoying the freedom of living away from her parents, and making the 60s scene with her roommate Kathy. While The Shiny Narrow Grin isn't written in a diary format, it does have the feel of a day to day account of Terry's life and her intimate, private thoughts about her friends, parents and teachers. As well as the adventures she gets up to with Kathy, attending parties, witnessing mod boys getting into punch ups and causing trouble in school. What of course distinguishes The Shiny Narrow Grin from just being a swinging sixties coming of age drama is 'The Boy' a mysterious good looking guy that Terry meets by the side of the road at the beginning of the book, and who turns out to be a vampire. Complicating Terry's already complicated love life, which alternates between sleeping with Bern, a bouncer at a coffee bar, and her on/off relationship with a mod boy called Fishfinger. A male character name that could only have come from 1960s Britain, likely used by Gaskell so that upon being ditched by Fishfinger, Terry can quip "there's more Fishfingers in the sea".

I think if The Shiny Narrow Grin were a young girl's diary, you'd find Terry's relationship with her father as equally eyebrow raising as the fact that she is dating one of the undead. The book opens with Terry being driven around dark country lanes by a guy called Slade, who is speeding in his flash car, and giving Terry a thrill by accidentally touching her knee. All of which would lead you to think he was her boyfriend, trying to impress and get off with her, so it comes as a surprise when we discover that Slade is actually her father. Terry does have an unconventional relationship with her father, in that he has been absent for most of her life, and has only come back into it recently. Therefore she tends to regard him as an honorary member of her scene, good for getting her into the pubs and clubs that she's too young for. He in turn seems to view her as a means to get close to dolly birds who are young enough to be his daughter. Terry and Slade's relationship does teeter on the unhealthy, especially when she starts becoming jealous of his closeness to other women, including her virginal school friend Kathy and even worse her despised school teacher Miss Sampson. However, you suspect the jealousy there is born out of a need to be the centre of attention to her father, after being deprived of it for so long, and a resentment at having to share him with other women.

At risk of playing amateur psychiatrist, it seems as if vampire figure here fulfills Terry's deep down need to be adored, obsessed over and fought for, in a way that no other male character in the book is prepared to do so. Certainly not her father, who becomes a source of disillusionment, nor mod boys like Fishfinger, who might be possessive, but at the slightest hint of relationship turbulence is happy to divert his attention to easier dolly birds. In contrast The Boy can't live without her "I can show you the bullet holes, you can peer into them and see my heart beating for you" yet Terry never reciprocates that same level of emotion back to him. Freaking out and branding him a pervert when she witnesses him drinking the blood of a friend of hers, then blotting out the memory of him for a large section of the book. He is needy when it comes to her, she is not when it comes to him. Creating an ambiguity over whether she'll ultimately reject him and continue to lead a normal life, or join him on the abnormal vampiric path.

I suppose The Shiny Narrow Grin was born out of the frequently made observation that the Victorian and Edwardian periods had such an influence on 60s fashion, a person from those times wouldn't have felt out of place in 1960s London. A premise used a few years later in the TV series Adam Adamant Lives. Indeed, Gaskell has her vampire remark "Now my clothes are right again. Now I can mingle. They like my leather coat, my elastic-sided boots, my fringe, my side whiskers".

In the 1960s, the family situation in The Shiny Narrow Grin...Terry having been raised by a single mother, her estranged parents finally getting divorced, her mother being in a relationship with an unhappily married man...would have been breaking taboos and questioning societal norms, something the passing of time has rather robbed from the book. In that sense, The Shiny Narrow Grin does have a kinship with the popular kitchen sink dramas of the time, a genre Gaskell would later dabble in, most notably 1968's All Neat in Black Stockings, the only one of her books to have been filmed. The Shiny Narrow Grin also gives the Hammer horror movies of the time a hip nod of approval towards the end of the book, when Terry and an older character finally discover The Boy is a vampire, causing the older character to faint. A reaction that Terry explains to The Boy by telling him "she's not a teenager, she doesn't go to Hammer films or read horror comics" therefore is more likely to be shocked by positive proof of vampirism than a teenager would. Which I found fascinating, as someone who grew up always regarding Hammer films as being slightly old fashioned and the type of horror movies that your parents approved of you watching. Whereas when The Shiny Narrow Grin was written in 1964, Hammer must have been seen as trendy, chic viewing for younger people, and not for squares or grownups.

Given the Hammer reference, it’s surprising that Gaskell's idea of a vampire diverts from the Christopher Lee, tall, dark, older man type, instead he is a blonde, cute, pale mod youth. Gaskell anticipating the deceptively angelic looking pretty boys who turn out to be killers, that would come along a few years later in the form of Hywel Bennett in Twisted Nerve, Martin Potter in Goodbye Gemini and Shane Briant in Straight on Till Morning . Any of those three would have been well cast in a movie version of The Shiny Narrow Grin. If we continue down the rabbit hole of imaginary casting, a late 1960s period Ian Hendry would have had the right mixture of handsomeness and sleaziness to play Slade.  I suppose Terry would have ended up being played by Susan George, who always pops up in those swinging London films, or failing that Jenny Agutter circa 'I Start Counting' another movie that tends to replay in your head while you read this book.

Jane Gaskell

Gaskell herself was something of a child prodigy in literary circles, she wrote her first book 'Strange Evil' at the age of 14, and by the end of the Sixties was considered a bona fide 'It girl' celebrity. To the extent that she was interviewed for 'Now and Then' a major project the broadcaster Bernard Braden embarked on in 1967, in which he filmed many of the defining figures of the time...Sean Connery, Tom Jones, Ossie Clark, Vanessa Redgrave...recording their thoughts on the era and where society was heading. While this project was never completed, fortunately the majority of the footage survives, including Gaskell's 20 minute interview, and can be seen on the BFI player. I can understand why Gaskell herself was as much a source of public interest as her work. Back in the Sixties, many would have expected a well educated sounding, Tory supporting young lady to write about pussycats, waterfalls and lonely walks along the beach. Whereas Gaskell wrote about UFOs over London, the public execution of Ringo Starr and the fear that your boyfriend might be a vampire. These were the real subjects that kept young girls awake at night back then. For a book written three years before the legalization of homosexually in England, it is also fairly enlightened, with Terry at one point commenting "I like queers. They're so easy for girls to get on with. Even the bitchy ones are. I even like lesbians, that most girls shudder from. There's something so clean about the idea of sex without men". Nor does Gaskell hold back on the type of language that the older generation would have probably considered unbecoming for a young lady. She gets ruder in A Sweet, Sweet Summer, where she even uses the word 'bumfluff', which I'd like to think helped that book clinch the Somerset Maugham award for literature that year.

The Shiny Narrow Grin is a book I initially admired more from a historical perspective, but began to warm to it on reflection and found it preying on my mind allot afterwards. As a male in 2024, I'm clearly not the intended audience for this book, but I can imagine a teenage girl in 1964 would have thought the world of The Shiny Narrow Grin, and felt they'd found a book and an author that spoke the language of that generation. Admittedly, it does feel like the work of a person who was still finding her way in the world and her voice as a writer. Judging by A Sweet, Sweet Summer, and the reputation of her later books, Gaskell's work became more ambitious and fantastical as it progressed, but the occasionally clumsy and immature nature of the dialogue here feels true to the people she was writing about. Only a young person, who wasn't too removed from Terry and that scene, could write a book like The Shiny Narrow Grin.

Anyone pursuing The Shiny Narrow Grin thinking they were in for full on pulp horror, might be let down by how slight the vampire aspect is, but that can't take away from the fact that this was a pioneering effort in terms of bringing vampirism into the modern age, and doing it with more authenticity than what would come later. Which is the polite way of saying that The Shiny Narrow Grin is Dracula A.D. 1972, but written by someone who knew what they were talking about. It is unfortunate that both The Shiny Narrow Grin and A Sweet, Sweet Summer are now two of her rarest books, and command insanely high prices on the second hand market. Rumour is that the now publicity shy Gaskell is against the idea of re-prints too, meaning that you'll likely need to resort to unofficial means to read these two without driving yourself into poverty. The Shiny Narrow Grin is a time capsule with a finger on the pulse on how young girls thought about mod boys, fashion, sex, pill popping and the undead in 1964. The work of a forgotten 60s icon, who might prefer for it to remain that way.

Soccer Thug (Christopher Wood, 1973)

 

At risk of demonizing the Confessions series even more than it has been, I have a growing suspicion that the Confessions books and films owe their existence to the James Moffatt/Richard Allen book ‘Skinhead’. In the 1970 Moffatt book, the protagonist Joe Hawkins gets a job working as a coal delivery assistant, which he and his co-worker use as an excuse to shag suburban housewives. This leads me to wonder if Confessions of a Window Cleaner author Christopher Wood read Skinhead, zoned in on that part of the Moffatt book, and thought there was the basis for a bestselling comedy book in there, as long as it was separated from all of the racial violence, rape and anti-Semitism that surrounded it. Keeping in mind that the ex-borstal boy Timothy Lea of the original Confessions of a Window Cleaner novel is much closer to Joe Hawkins than Robin Askwith's later interpretation of the role. Part of me hopes that isn't the case, since I'm handing Confessions detractors another reason to ‘detract’ here. Given Moffatt's well known anti-Semitism and frequent lashing out at the permissive society though, it would be supremely ironic if his writing had set into motion a sex comedy franchise made mainly by Jewish filmmakers. One suspects Moffatt would have needed a few Seagram's Hundred Pipers to get over that shock. Further evidence of the possible Moffatt influence on Confessions of a Window Cleaner is the existence of Soccer Thug, a 1973 book by Confessions author Christopher Wood, under the blokeish pen name 'Frank Clegg' that is very much chasing the Skinhead cash-cow.

This is your life Harold 'Striker' Rickards, it may not turn out how you want it to be...indeed Striker is one luckless little sod, who is introduced to us kicking a prison bed, causing more damage to his foot than the intended target. Striker has been sent down after being mistakenly identified as the youthful hooligan who viciously beat up a skinhead at a football game. Upon release Striker discovers his girlfriend Lynn has been having it away with Rantic, a blue eyed football hooligan who is also muscling in on Striker's gang of tearaways. Out of jealousy and revenge, Striker fucks Lynn behind a trailer at a funfair, undeterred by her protests or the elderly drunk pissing against the trailer "Striker watched the drops of urine dripping from the underside of the trailer and said nothing".

Worst still when Striker returns home he discovers his mum has been having it away with the TV repair man. Sending Striker into a jealous rage, you see Striker secretly wants to shag his own mother as well "Striker remembered how he had tried to pull her on to the bed when he was a child. He had always wanted to touch her breasts". The dude sure has his problems.

Striker is a proto punk, who gives every authority figure within earshot lip, regardless of the consequences to himself. Striker observes much of an ever changing Britain and likes little, from the prevalence of black bus drivers to the new, impersonal town centres that have been springing up "in the subways bearded hippies played guitars, gangs of youths beat up strangers and girls were occasionally assaulted. The man who designed the town centre had got a knighthood". All that meets with Striker's approval is football, birds, cars and aggro.

Wood does differ from the Moffatt model in several ways. Whereas Moffatt's policemen are always figures of upstanding decency, Wood's police are bent, bully boys out to frame and brutalize Striker. Wood has flashes of sympathy towards Striker, something Moffatt never had for his skinhead protagonists, especially when pitted against the thoroughly rotten Rantic. The 1970s being a time when a character like Striker could still be the hero, despite also being an incestuous, borderline rapist.

The mixture of sex comedy and yob-lit in Soccer Thug does make for an uneven, split personality book. One minute we're playing on the Moffatt side of violent hooliganism and a perverse eye for older women, made all the more perverse by it being aimed here at the main character's mother, by the main character. Then the next minute we're playing on the Confessions side of coitus interruptus humour and unflattering, but on the money, observations on working class life in the 1970s. A common criticism of the Confessions series is that they were punching down at working class characters and portraying them as sex crazed morons. This is mainly due to Christopher Wood himself coming from a privileged background and being an outside observer on working class Britain, but I think the fact that those movies and books connected so much with working class audiences back then, invalidates such criticism. The British working classes aren't fools, and know when they are being patronized, and when someone is merely keeping it real and telling it as it is. Which is equally true of Soccer Thug as it is the Confessions books.

In Soccer Thug, Wood seizes the opportunity to get a bit more serious than anything he wrote under the Timothy Lea alias. When we finally meet Striker's father, who is dying from cancer in hospital, Wood unexpectedly humanizes Striker, and you begin to realize why football is so important to him. It's a source of happier, childhood times with his father "I fished your hand out of your raincoat pocket so I could hold on to it. And now you are dying" and a way of living out the fantasy of being Sean Donnell, the soccer star he idolizes, who has the wealth, success and adulation that will never be Striker's. Donnell, likely based on George Best, is a young, Irish football dynamo whose adoption of the showbiz lifestyle… fancy cars, trendy boutiques and visits to fashionable hairdressers… doesn't sit well with his alpha male fan base. Who come to regard him as sexually suspect. The fans' chant for him, meant to be sung to the tune of Jesus Christ Superstar "Superdon, Superdon, How many goals have you scored so far", eventually getting corrupted to "Sean Donn-ell, Superstar, looks like a girl and he wears a bra". There's nothing like football when it comes to spreading tolerance and understanding to the masses.

In Soccer Thug, Wood seems to be trying to say something about the nature of hero worship and how that rarely works out well for the worshipper or the worshipped. Every bad decision Striker makes is born out of emulating Donnell. From putting a deposit down on a bike that he can't afford, merely because Donnell has one, to cheating on his girlfriend, because that's what soccer stars do, to stealing a car and taking it on a joyride whilst imagining he is Donnell "I'm Superdon, remember, I am immortal". In another Don wannabe moment, Striker attempts to get off with Suzie Rayburn, a posh bird who is looking for a bit of rough. Only for Striker to be shocked by her sexual frankness and coarse language, leading to the funniest line in the book "Striker had never realized that anybody who did not work at Woolworth's could behave like this". Alas, Suzie becomes another source of ill-advised adulation from Striker. Convinced she is his true love, Striker gets his heart broken when Suzie turns Judas in the company of her rich, snobby father, refusing to acknowledge she knows him, and even calling him at 'Oik' straight to his face.

Rantic is another character in Soccer Thug who suffers from hero worshiping the wrong person. His actions seemingly born out of disappointment that Striker wasn't the cold blooded hard man that Rantic expected him to be, and Rantic spends the rest of the book trying to step into the shoes of the man he'd wanted Striker to be. Everyone in this book is running from their real selves, and pretending to be something they are not. Which is especially true of Rantic, given the big revelation about him towards the end of the book "hating is less painful than loving".

Bumpy ride as Soccer Thug is, alternating between laugh out loud moments, genuine sadness and jolting violence, it's a combo that proves Christopher Wood was a far more diverse writer than he gets credit for. Even though the disparate elements of Soccer Thug do often feel like they are fighting against each other. It's not as mentally disturbed as the Moffatt books, but his influence means it's not the out and out comedy that the Confessions books were either. There is also allot of football action and banter here too, which does get tedious if that's not your bag and you'd prefer the emphasis to be on gratuitous sex and violence instead.

Soccer Thug did make me grateful that I've never given a rat's ass about football myself, all that lies down the route of football fandom is humiliation and disillusionment according to Wood. After reading Soccer Thug, I'm at an even greater loss as to why they call it the beautiful game.

Joe V

 The D'Amato Files No.5, we finally reach the D'Amato movie whose star once threatened to sue me for defamation of character.