Yes, indeed, Brian. I was there when the New Wave crashed on the shore. Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive. But... (sniff...)

A former P.M., not named Blair,
Hired two writers with whom he would share
Some tales of his life,
Till one of his wife
Brought his death - and 'friends' murdered the pair.

The movie world doesn't stand still
And from here at the top of the hill
The pictures look small;
I don't rate them at all -
I'm ready now, Mr. De Mille.

A region that’s totally absent,
Plus a hound that isn’t apparent,
Are part of a dream
Where slit eyeballs seem
Moonlight on surreal excitement.

Lacombe, Lucien

The Maquis doesn't want him (French pride!),
So he signs with the visiting side
And keeps faith where he chooses -
Even when his team loses.
You can't say he was true, but he tried.

When you’re stuck with a leg that’s in plaster
And wishing that time would go faster,
To spy on your neighbours
May punish your labours
By breaking the other leg - basta!

He meets young girls in chat-rooms. One chit
turns up not in the mood to lose 'it'.
So once he drops his smalls
she just cuts off his balls:
not 'Hard Candy' so much as 'Tough Sh__'.

It seemed like a wonderful scheme,
Swapping murders - a psychopath’s dream.
But Guy would not do it;
The roundabout blew it,
And Bruno just ran out of steam.

What’s the stuff of a plage holiday?
Platform chaos to board the railway,
A kayak with jaws,
Weird tennis applause,
Then plaint sounds and a fireworks display.

Cabin in the Woods

Five teens (whore, virgin, joker, jock, prof)
take 'mysterious holiday' (cough!).
A wild man in the wood
warns them 'This cain't be good!'
(Sorry, that's where I seemed to drift off ....).