I'll tell you about political bloody correctness! Just behind my house is the Lymington Sports Field, a tranquil couple of acres in the centre of town where one can languidly listen to the thwack of leather on willow and the desultory applause and tinkle of tea cups which often accompanies such an inspiring and eclectic connection during the exciting summer cricket season.
It is the tradition on Remembrance Sunday for the Lifeboat Crew to let off a thundering maroon from the field to mark the commencement and the end of the two minute silence, a worthy reminder that all should desist and reflect in the two mile radius it can be heard. It is also a timely reminder of the kind of racket those poor men endured in four years of endless mudwhumping under fire and thus, in my eyes (and ears) completely and utterly appropriate.
I opened my back door to let in the glorious earth shaking window bending thwump! as I always do these days (having been caught out one year, walking unsighted behind the sight screens not expecting anything but the gentle chirp of sparrows and got an 18 pounder in the right earhole and an attendant but significant trouser fill).
So, expectantly? Nothing...Bloody Nothing! except a distant squeak of a near empty compressed gas air horn trailing off into a pigeon fart, that had it been placed in your ear, you might have been tempted to cock a quizzical eye towards the operator as if to say "has it gone off yet?"
Disgraceful! Apparently people don't like their windows rattled or their cats up the chimney, so PC says it must stop and we all suffer a whale fart instead.
That's it for me. I'm going to take steroids, find the miserable son of a bitch that ordered this travesty, and set off a large maroon up his rectum, or maybe two.
No doubt bail will be required..I look forward to your support.
