From a scribbler of renown and bon vivant who went by the name of John Betjeman…
Come friendly bombs and fall on Slough!
It isn’t fit for humans now,
There isn’t grass to graze a cow.
Swarm over, Death!
Come, bombs and blow to smithereens
Those air -conditioned, bright canteens,
Tinned fruit, tinned meat, tinned milk, tinned beans,
Tinned minds, tinned breath.
Oh yes! If the above-named Berkshire town of despond were raised to the ground, the physical and cultural environment of central southern England would be greatly improved.
Now are we allowed to say such things in public, or should I expect a knock on the door from Inspector Knacker? Just for the record, I would never call for the stoning to death of Yasmin Alibhai-Brown, silly trollop though she is. Nor would I advocate the beating to a pulp of Tory councillor Gareth Compton. Such matters are best left to one’s wickeder fantasies.