[1] Why I Want to Fuck Ronald Reagan: Nine leaves printed recto, side-stapled into the lower flap of a screened card folder; 257 x 204 mm. Printed offset in an edition of 250 copies by bookshop partner Mike Hughes, with screened title-page (200 copies thus). Evolving from a series of image-minded atrocity exhibitions (shot from the expedient lens of Ballard's Tallis) which included: 'You: Coma: Marilyn Monroe' (AMBIT 27, 1966); 'The Assassination of John Fitzgerald Kennedy Considered as a Downhill Motor Race' (AMBIT 29, 1966); & his non-Freudian 'Plan for the Assassination of Jacqueline Kennedy' (AMBIT 31, 1966/7); the Reagan fix arose from the California Governor's mad dash to displace Nixon as nominee for President at the Republican Convention (August 1968). Three copies addressed to Penguin Books (seized during the infamous raid on Unicorn, 16 January 1968) suggest that the edition may in fact have been completed late 1967. A decent copy, lightly toned with soft bump to lower tip. [2] RONALD REAGAN The Magazine of Poetry edited by John Sladek & Pamela Zoline with help from Thomas Disch, published at 271 Portobello Rd, London. 52pp side-stapled into both flaps of an illustrated card folder (priced 2/6, 50 cents); 256 x 210 mm. Includes what some refer to as the first publication of Ballard's 'Why I Want to Fuck Ronald Reagan' (pp10-2), preceded by a photo of Reagan hugging his wife (7) & a title-page of sorts, sporting a photo of the Guv out riding, over the caption 'Horses Are My Hobby says Ronald Reagan' (9). Further along (31), Lee Harwood's poem 'England' is dated at New York, 19.xi.67, suggesting that this one-shot likely appeared early the following year, as copyright on page 2. The lower cover boasts Sladek's cutout Ronnie Doll complete with monogrammed ensemble; while the title-page acknowledges "Miss Reagan's gowns by Zoline of London". And on the copyright page: "Anyone using the name 'Ronald Reagan' without our permission had better watch it." A nice copy save for a tiny bit of dampstain to upper cover at lower tip. A fearless foursome of New Wave satirists (three, in addition to publisher Bill Butler, expat yanks) pulling the moist finger of the chaste authoritarian fist, for fun. Two companion pieces priced as one.