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The blurb on the back:

The poetry of EJ Thribb was first published in the pages of Private Eye in 1972 and since that time his regular contributions to that journal have met with wide acclaim. For many, this young writer, only seventeen years of age, has come to epitomize the enquiring spirit of this century. To the mind of the poet nothing is too mundane to become his subject - the death of Chairman Mao and the 25th anniversary of The Archers receive equal consideration. What others might overlook in world events, Thribb explores avidly, restlessly seeking the answers to questions asked by his whole generation - 'Why?' and 'What's in a name?' His scope for analysis is boundless - whatever hits a headline or crosses the screen of News At Ten, the Heathrow arrival of a famous face, or perhaps only an obituary notice may provide the catalytic force behind his genius.
Of the private life of EJ Thribb, the man behind the myth, very little is known. A retiring person, he jealously guards the secrets of his private life, a privacy shared only with his friend, Keith, and Keith's mum. It can certainly be said that his inspiration owes something to the constant interchange of debate and theory he shares with these close companions but it is impossible, from the fleeting glimpses of his South London world, to assess fully its influences on the poet and his work.

Those sleeve notes are too long already. Here's a sample poem.

In Memoriam
HOWARD HUGHES

So. Farewell then
Howard Hughes
Mystery millionaire.

It would seem that
You are dead

But are you?

We have been
Hoaxed before

So why not now?

But then. Does
Anyone really die?

This is the enigma.