Charlie Sexton: Pictures For Pleasure

WHAT THE world needs now, as I'm sure you'll all agree, is a whippy 17-year-old Texan rock'n'roller with leather-sheathed buttocks waggling provocatively like two pigeon eggs in handkerchief, a youth, moreover, whose libidinal sap is thrusting, burgeoning, nay, bursting forth in an ecstatic plume of rebel quiff, scrotum-clenching yelp and the cocky angle of a wild red guitar.