Hmm

'She went back to him and a little more of her died each and every time he hurt her again.' Oh how we sighed over that one. 'Yes, yes' we said, 'that's how it is'. Can't remember where it came from, something big at the time like The Thorn Birds but it wasn't. Garish, gold covered book I think. Anyway, it passed from female hand to female hand and served to reinforce our victimhood. Ah, those were the days, the endless days, the helpless days, believe me.

Something like forty years later reading Saul Bellow's The Victim; does my heart ache for victims? Not sure it does when we could have invested our puerile energies into listening to the Kink's version of those endless Days and written a different narrative for ourselves. Sung here by Kirsty McColl.