We were driving from Wooton near Woodstock to Oxford, and I was a precocious 8 year old. "What was it like," I asked the driver, doubtless some kind of prof, "at the end of the war?" He replied, "The Germans, even in retreat, were incredibly disciplined," I was struck by that.
And here's the thing, and it played a part in my decision to join up, the people of my age now were, back in the '70s and '80s, WWII vets. They'd been through it, that awful, cataclysmic fight. And here we are again, baying for blood in the name of... what?
Transgender rights? No, that's a risible rainbow smokescreen. How about massive amounts of money flowing to and from the MIC to our beloved rulers of whatever party. Pay up, serf, so we can be richer and you'll get the consolation prize of a tranny bathroom. Or die, at the front.
LSP
