Boots On The Ground

 

Well, at least the back deck of the Compound. Boots, don't you think, are a bit like guns, look after them and they'll look after you. To that end, I apply Mink Oil on these old High Tory Ariats and so should you, it keeps them supple and waterproof.

Of course you might prefer to bull your boots, like a Guardsman, and that has it's own mirror bright satisfaction too. Not as practical though, unless you're on a parade square in Whitehall. That in mind, we're still at war with Iran, you may have noticed, which leaves EL SENOR, our famously anti-war president, in a bit of a conundrum.

Either he wins this war decisively, which surely means boots on the ground in great numbers, or he withdraws in ignominy, like Biden in Afghanistan. You see the catch, punters, he can't do either, but perhaps I'm missing something? As in maybe a naval blockade will work.

Feel free to chime in and, in the meanwhile, here's a photo of the Reform Club. Imagine all those Club Table pundits chewing on this knotty FORPOL puzzle over a lengthy lunch, vaguely terrifying.

As always, your Pal,

LSP 

Tales of Brave Uysses

 

Such is our path. And for me that meant Mr. JM sending his crew around the vicarage today and yesterday. No kidding, those Mexicans worked day and night to make the Compound presentable. Thanks, guys. So here we go, JWTS (Jungle Warfare Training School) cleared and room to breathe, don't even think of fast talking outta this one.

JM, landowner: "So what's happening here, fella?"

LSP, "We're standing strong for the Red Wave and, in the meanwhile, I gotta learn Spanish."

JM, "You're pretty savvy."

And there you have it. Immediate objective's to learn Spanish, then we'll go from there. By the way, Democrats, have you stopped to consider Spanish speaking people don't necessarily vote commie?

Your Old Pal,

LSP