Tuesday, October 22, 2013

We shall fight them on the beaches.

I am not going to lie to you,
or to anyone.
I am scared.
I am glad that I do not have asthma.
My car is loaded with instruments,
jewellry, photographs and my mother's wedding dress.
I have a gut feeling.
And it's making me feel ill.
I can't concentrate. 
I am standing on a death trap and we will not close.
We will go down fighting in the end. 
My boss is Winston Churchill and I have never resented the Commonwealth more.

"Get your British Petroleum here!"

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