Can't Lose What You Never Had

 

All hail Lord Allman,

LSP

The Waterloo Room

 

No, not a POC

Imagine the scene, if you can. A candlelit room at 16 St. James Square on June the 21st in 1815. A small chamber orchestra plays quadrilles while the Prince Regent takes his place. But light-hearted gaity must have been brittle. 

Three days earlier, the Iron Duke, Wellington, had met the Upstart in the shock of Waterloo; the fate of Europe, not least England, hung in the balance. You can imagine the tension as London awaited the outcome.

It took three days for news of Wellington's triumph to reach London. Major Percy, an ADC, brought it via fast ship across the Channel along with two captured French Standards. He arrived in a carriage at St. James Square on the evening of the 21st. Brian Cathcart describes the moment:

"Tension mounted as the hours passed. On Wednesday evening the streets were again filled with expectant Londoners, while War Department officials manned their desks for a second night running. At the theatres and the society parties across the West End, one topic dominated. Meanwhile Major Percy was at last making swift progress in his post-chaise and four. Changing horses at Canterbury, Sittingbourne, Rochester and Dartford, he crested Shooters Hill in time to see London in the fading light of dusk. Then soon after 11pm his yellow carriage, with two captured French eagle standards thrusting from its windows, crossed Westminster Bridge into a delirious crowd.

"With this happy throng in tow, Percy made his way to Downing Street, where he was told that the Cabinet was dining at Lord Harrowby’s in Grosvenor Square. These unfortunate ministers had thus far passed an evening of all but unbearable tension. One account goes:

'They dined, they sat. No dispatch came. At length, when the night was far advanced, they broke up. Yet, delayed by a lingering hope that the expected messenger might appear, they stood awhile in a knot conversing on the pavement when suddenly was heard a faint and distant shout. It was the shout of victory! Hurrah! Escorted by a running and vociferous multitude, the Major drove up. He was taken into the house and the dispatch was opened.'

"Sixteen pages long and written in the most sober terms, the dispatch took time to digest, but eventually delighted ministers were able to announce the news to the crowd outside, who greeted it, according to the Morning Post, with ‘universal and ecstatic cheering’. Now Percy had to report to the Prince Regent, who that night was the dinner guest of a banking family, the Boehms. Carriages were summoned and most of the Cabinet followed Percy’s chaise through the streets, once again trailing a crowd behind. Dorothy Boehm, the hostess, describes their arrival at 16 St James’s Square:

'The first quadrille was in the act of forming and the Prince was walking up to the dais on which his seat was placed, when I saw every one without the slightest sense of decorum rushing to the windows, which had been left wide open because of the excessive sultriness of the weather. The music ceased and the dance was stopped; for we heard nothing but the vociferous shouts of an enormous mob, who had just entered the Square and were running by the side of a post-chaise and four, out of whose windows were hanging three nasty French eagles. In a second the door of the carriage was flung open and, without waiting for the steps to be let down, out sprang Henry Percy – such a dusty figure! – with a flag in each hand, pushing aside everyone who happened to be in his way, darting up stairs, into the ball-room, stepping hastily up to the Regent, dropping on one knee, laying the flags at his feet, and pronouncing the words ‘Victory, Sir! Victory!’'"

Here it is today

Victory, Sir! Victory! The room in which those words were said remains today, substantially unchanged, the Waterloo Room of the East India Club. I look forward to raising a toast to the Iron Duke in that very same room later this year.

Vincite,

LSP

Is This Your Future - America?

 

America, is this your future?

Or maybe it's this:

Then again:

Cheers,

LSP

This And That

 

Yesterday was momentous. Yes, I drove into the Mega City connurb metrosprawl that is Fort Worth/Dallas, and was reminded yet again that spaghetti junctions didn't go outta style in the 1970s. What an entanglement of concrete, but it was worth it to get to the Clergy Day at St. Vincent's Cathedral in Bedford.

Where there was a presentation by a consultant figure on character and the voice techniques associated therein. There are, apparently, various character traits, each with their own way of speaking, and understanding this is beneficial to team leadership and self-realization to boot. So what are you, a Nurturer, Pioneer or Creative?

Oh look, you're really safe now at the cathedral. How idiotic

You'll be pleased to know I turned up late and resisted the heady urge to ask, "I think you've missed something out, Imperialist, Space Imperialist, what about that?" Lord Curzon on the sands of Mars aside, it was good to spend time with fellow clergy, what a good bunch of guys, easily the best clericus I've ever served with.

And it was good to be at the cathedral too, so many memories gathered up over the years and not bad for all that. Reverie over, I climbed into the rig and headed East on murder expressway 183 to Ma LSP's place in Dallas. She was in fine form, though recovering from oral surgery, and announced, "Your parcel's arrived."

Keepers Tweed is the best tweed imo

Good! And there it was, a Keepers Tweed coat, thanks, eBay. "I tell you, Mother, these things cost a solid 600 GBP new, if you can even find 'em." She thought about this, "It's awfully heavy, perhaps you can wear it for about two days here." I replied, quick as a flash, "It's the cloth, you see, Winter coat." Which it is, and tough as nails to boot.

On the way out to the bucolic boulevards of rural Texas she gave me a Japanese altar, I think that's what it is, which belonged to her Mother who collected such things. This now sits next to the front door, sanctified by icons, guns, rods and all of that.

Maybe 18th C? I'm guessing

So there you have it, what a good day, and today being the Feast of St. Matthias it's celebration all 'round.

Cheers,

LSP

The Sun Never Sets On The British Empire - In Space

 

Intrigued by the genius of AI, I typed in "British Empire in space, Union Jack, stars," half expecting a scene from Grand Zimbabwe on the Moon, but no, out came a pretty creditable Imperial Fleet Station. But what about "Imperial British Space Navy in battle"?

Not bad! Inspirational, in fact, and here's another:

Join up, boys, and see the stars.

For King and Country. Speaking of which, here's Lord Curzon, on the sands of Mars:

And it's Tommy this and Tommy that:

Stand strong, soldier, for the Empire.

Ad Astra,

LSP

The Genius Of AI

 

You've always wondered what America's Founding Fathers looked like so you ask Google's Gemini AI to show you, and what do you get? Let's have a look.

And what about Vikings?

Let's generate some more. Tell us, AI, show us Hitler's feared Waffen SS:

Google Gemini inventing a diverse, multi-ethnic Waffen SS is actually a stunning example of horseshoe theory pic.twitter.com/beOvqLOxSG

— ib (@Indian_Bronson) February 22, 2024

But maybe that's too extreme, here's the Wehrmacht:

 

Wow, just look at all those diversity Nazis! Then there's the Pope:

Because, you know, Pope's are typically POCs who are often wymxn. 

Dear God,.. Please. Make. It Stop.

Well it seems that heartfelt prayer's been answered in part because Google's racist Gemini AI's currently down while the tech giant's DEI geniuses fix their race baiting algo. And have you noticed, gentle readers, how Satan always overplays his hand?

Cheers,

LSP

Let's Get This Back

 

Are you fed up with rubbish, banal liturgical music that signally fails to lift heart, mind and soul to God? I am, and recommend the Missa de Angelis by way of solution:

Word to the wise, deploying the above will brand you as a dangerous domestic extremist. Go on, just ask the FBI.

Sing on,

LSP

The Snake Is Back

 

That's right, the iconic blued Colt Python .357 Mag revolver is back. Discontinued in 1998, Colt saw the error of its ways and reintroduced an upgraded snake gun in 2020, featuring harder steel and a simplified action. Well done, but the new Python was stainless, all good, but somehow without the Delphic magic of the original. Now that magic's returned, here's the marketing:

The resurgence of a true legend – the Colt Python, now in a Carbon Steel Blued finish. The new Colt Python is a testament to timeless design and modern innovation. Initially offered in 4.25" and 6" barrel lengths in .357 Magnum, featuring a target adjustable rear sight and user-replaceable front sight, this legendary double-action revolver combines dependable and consistent performance with material innovations and upgraded actions. The black oxide finish, adorned with gold medallions, walnut grips, and signature vent rib barrel, pays homage to its iconic roots. The updated action ensures a consistent and reliable user experience. Responding to customer demand, the Blued Python returns, surpassing its predecessor in durability and effectiveness. The Colt Blued Python is a celebration of tradition, craftsmanship, and the relentless pursuit of perfection in every shot. Embrace the perfect blend of tradition and modern manufacturing in this reimagined classic.

 

And here's a short video:

Well done Colt for recreating a classic, I want one.

#2A,

LSP

A Shoot - In Texas

 

Do you even remember how to shoot, so-called LSP? Good question and I loaded up some guns in the rig and drove out to the range with Fr. C to find out. There we were, out in the field with a collection of guns, a few old pumps, a CZ SxS, a single shot 20, a no name Italian O/U and a collection of Rugers.

OK, all these guns, awesome, but could we shoot them? Sure enough we could, with C opening up handily with his Ruger .357 Mag revolver against steel plates. Bang. Watch those plates swing. Then it was onto shotguns.

C kicked off with his older Remington 870, which worked flawlessly, then I followed on with a Mossberg 835 Ultimag, smoke those skeet! Big fun and it was good to see the  old workhorse doing its thing, that gun's shot a lot of dove. Then my Remington 870, which worked well enough but has a rough cycle, it's newer than C's and not as good.

Next up, my CZ .20 SxS and C's 20 single shot 20, I think it's Turkish. The single worked just fine in C's capable hands and knocked our biodegradable enemy outta the sky every time. The CZ was great too, though you have to remember to sight right down the barrel, if you see the rib you'll miss.

Great result and as always, remember kids, it's important to actually aim your shotgun, firing in general direction, whilst enjoyable, tends not to hit the target. There is, perhaps, a moral in that. A box of White Flyer down, we finished off with Rugers, a .22 American, a Mk. IV 22/45 and a .357 Mag revolver.

The latter two belonged to C and I'm jealous, I want those pistols, even though I didn't shoot the Mark IV particularly well. Obviously need one to get more practice in. And it was all plinking enjoyment from thereon in, nice one.

So there you have it. Yes, both of us remembered how to shoot and shot pretty well, see those skeet smoke and explode like Focke Wulfs over the Oder. Great result, what a boost to get out and shoot, just you, the guns and the country of the great state of Texas. It clears the head, I tell you.

#2A,

LSP

Just For Kix

 

Gentlemen, he came on in the same old way and we beat him back, in the same old way. Pity Josephine.

Adveniat,

LSP

Prep Up - Word To The Wise

 

Ready to go? Watch this by way of caveat:

Get back home, boys.

Cheers,

LSP

City Of Brass

 

This seems appropriate on the first Sunday of Lent, Kipling's City of Brass:

Here was a people whom after their works
thou shalt see wept over for their lost dominion:
and in this palace is the last information
respecting lords collected in the dust.” –
The Arabian Nights.

In a land that the sand overlays – the ways to her gates are untrod – A multitude ended their days whose gates were made splendid by God, Till they grew drunk and were smitten with madness and went to their fall, And of these is a story written: but Allah Alone knoweth all!

When the wine stirred in their heart their bosoms dilated.
They rose to suppose themselves kings over all things created –
To decree a new earth at a birth without labour or sorrow –
To declare: “We prepare it to-day and inherit to-morrow.”
They chose themselves prophets and priests of minute understanding,
Men swift to see done, and outrun, their extremest commanding –
Of the tribe which describe with a jibe the perversions of Justice –
Panders avowed to the crowd whatsoever its lust is.

Swiftly these pulled down the walls that their fathers had made them –
The impregnable ramparts of old, they razed and relaid them
As playgrounds of pleasure and leisure, with limitless entries,
And havens of rest for the wastrels where once walked the sentries;
And because there was need of more pay for the shouters and marchers,
They disbanded in face of their foemen their yeomen and archers.
They replied to their well-wishers’ fears – to their enemies laughter,
Saying: “Peace! We have fashioned a God Which shall save us hereafter.
We ascribe all dominion to man in his factions conferring,
And have given to numbers the Name of the Wisdom unerring.”

They said: “Who has hate in his soul? Who has envied his neighbour?
Let him arise and control both that man and his labour.”
They said: “Who is eaten by sloth? Whose unthrift has destroyed him?
He shall levy a tribute from all because none have employed him.”
They said: “Who hath toiled, who hath striven, and gathered possession?
Let him be spoiled. He hath given full proof of transgression.”
They said: “Who is irked by the Law? Though we may not remove it.
If he lend us his aid in this raid, we will set him above it!
So the robber did judgment again upon such as displeased him,
The slayer, too, boasted his slain, and the judges released him.

As for their kinsmen far off, on the skirts of the nation,
They harried all earth to make sure none escaped reprobation.
They awakened unrest for a jest in their newly-won borders,
And jeered at the blood of their brethren betrayed by their orders.
They instructed the ruled to rebel, their rulers to aid them;
And, since such as obeyed them not fell, their Viceroys obeyed them.
When the riotous set them at naught they said: “Praise the upheaval!
For the show and the world and the thought of Dominion is evil!”
They unwound and flung from them with rage, as a rag that defied them,
The imperial gains of the age which their forefathers piled them.
They ran panting in haste to lay waste and embitter for ever
The wellsprings of Wisdom and Strengths which are Faith and Endeavour.
They nosed out and digged up and dragged forth and exposed to derision
All doctrine of purpose and worth and restraint and prevision:

And it ceased, and God granted them all things for which they had striven,
And the heart of a beast in the place of a man’s heart was given. . . .

. . . . . . . .

When they were fullest of wine and most flagrant in error,
Out of the sea rose a sign – out of Heaven a terror.
Then they saw, then they heard, then they knew – for none troubled to hide it,
A host had prepared their destruction, but still they denied it.
They denied what they dared not abide if it came to the trail;
But the Sward that was forged while they lied did not heed their denial.
It drove home, and no time was allowed to the crowd that was driven.
The preposterous-minded were cowed – they thought time would be given.
There was no need of a steed nor a lance to pursue them;
It was decreed their own deed, and not a chance, should undo them.
The tares they had laughingly sown were ripe to the reaping.
The trust they had leagued to disown was removed from their keeping.
The eaters of other men’s bread, the exempted from hardship,
The excusers of impotence fled, abdicating their wardship,
For the hate they had taught through the State brought the State no defender,
And it passed from the roll of the Nations in headlong surrender!

On point, don't you think?

Your Old Pal,

LSP

PS. Thanks, LL, for the constant reminder.