Bitter Patto: Two Years Ahead

I FIRST met Mike Patto four months ago. With his agent he walked into the MM office, a gangling figure in high green leather boots and straggling curls that fell around his face like an Elizabethan wig. With his clothes and roguish leer, he had the appearance of an eighteenth century footpad, or a poacher who had just bagged a brace of pheasants.