AIRSTRIP ONE’S MINISTRY OF TRUTH FIRES UP THE AIRBRUSHES AGAIN: “The poppy has become a symbol of racism – I will never wear one again,” Robert Fisk* writes in the London Independent**.
For who are they commemorating? The dead of Sarajevo? Of Srebrenica? Of Aleppo? Nope. The television bumpkins only shed their crocodile tears for the dead of First and Second World Wars, who were (save for a colonial war or two) the last generation of Britons to get the chop before the new age of “we-bomb-you-die” technology ensured that their chaps – brown-eyed, for the most part, often Muslims, usually dark skinned – got blown to bits while our chaps flew safely home to the mess for breakfast.
Yes, I rage against the poppy disgrace every year. And yes, my father – 12th Battalion The King’s Liverpool Regiment, Third Battle of the Somme, the liberation of burning Cambrai 1918 – finally abandoned the poppy charade when he learned of the hypocrisy and lies behind the war in which he fought. His schoolboy son followed his father’s example and never wore his wretched Flanders flower again.
Classy stuff. But then, self-loathing*** has been a hallmark of the British left since the end of WWI.
** Yes, the same.
*** QED.