Billy Bragg's record collection

A HARE-BRAINED afternoon in the warmest room and things are not quite what they seem. The bookshelves may be burdened with Mayakovsky and miner's lamps; the bathroom may be awash with Marx For Beginners, Thatcher bog-roll and a plastic nuclear sub; the Red Army Choir may be regaling us with 'The National Anthem Of The Union Of Soviet Socialist Republics' ("the 10 inch version"), but the cosy anti-imperialist interior of comrade Bragg's Acton, West London pad hides some grim secrets.