....in the week that saw the British celebrate its liberal politicians sending hundreds of thousands to mud-wrestle in a shrapnel-infested paradise, let's think on a couple of facts.
The average Tommy was cannon-fodder, from the moment he signed up. The average public school-boy became, automatically, a sub-altern, lieutenant or eventually captain. But he too was cannon fodder. The average life-span of a toff was six weeks, not much more than that for a 'Tommy'.
Place those wreathes, hey, place those wreathes. Still doing the same now in a country where no-one has ever won. The Pathans have never been conquered, bowed or humiliated. That'll be the British, the Russians and the Septics, then. Ho hum! When you gonna learn?
And in that vein, I have learned something about myself this last 42 days.
Primarily, in spite of the rain,
With faith in zoology:
I am not Noah.
Second, scarily, and yes, despite
The booming economy:
I am not Sugar.
Thirdly, in hiding, pills no requite,
Depression is sapping me:
I am not Shergar.
Summarily, warily: what strain
The final humility
I'm the last huzzah!
But I go gently into this good night, cos if I had a fiver I would go with fireworks!
Bon chance, mes amis, et avec vous soit vos Dieu.
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