John Lennon's acerbic wit was always a bit sour for my taste, and these sets of scribblings are full of weird and wearisome word games, ugly drawings and irritating doggerel verses: "I call my budgie Jeffrey/My grandad's name's the same/I call him after grandad/Who had a feathered brain". Imagine singing that: makes you glad there was a McCartney in Lennon/McCartney, doesn't it?
In His Own Write and A Spaniard In The Works by John Lennon (Pimlico, £8 in UK)
John Lennon's acerbic wit was always a bit sour for my taste, and these sets of scribblings are full of weird and wearisome word…
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