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TWO MINUTES’ SILENCE AS BRITAIN TRIES TO REMEMBER THE POINT OF POPPY DAY

In Uncategorized on November 11, 2010 at 7:38 pm

Silence fell across Britain at eleven hundred hours today as Britons everywhere stopped what they were doing and tried to remember what poppy day was for.

Millions wondered in dignified silence whether it meant war was good or bad.

“It all seemed so simple when I was a kid,” said Steve Parkin (39), manager of a small double-glazing firm in Hemel Hempstead. “Hitler was bad and soldiers were good and soldiers felt sad if you didn’t wear poppies.

“Put it that way and it’s a bit of a no-brainer, isn’t it? But where does that leave me now? On the one hand, it’s obviously really bad that all these blokes are coming back from Afpak with bits of them missing. And it’s also not great that, in the end, we failed to turn Iraq into a giant American oil-drilling platform cum aircraft carrier. On the other hand, it’s equally obvious that they’re all really brave and good for going out there to fight. So I don’t know where I am with it all, to be honest. I feel a bit like how Louis Walsh probably felt when he was signing Jedward. Very much in two minds about the whole thing.

“Like millions of my fellow-countrymen, I’ll be taking two minutes out at eleven o’clock to try and figure it all out.”

The feeling of the nation was perhaps best summed up in the dignified words of Albert Scrape (117), the last surviving British veteran of the Battle of the Somme.

“I didn’t leave my balls on a mud-spattered gun carriage in a forty-foot crater south of Verdun so that Ross Kemp could pinball around the foothills of the Hindu Kush like it was a Call of Duty extension pack,” he said. “Last time I checked, it was supposed to have been the war to end all ******* wars.

“Yeah, right. Like every drink my Uncle Ernie ever had was going to be his last.

“It’s all bollocks. Which is why I joined the Communist Party on my return from the Front in 1917. It was that or head off to Ireland and join the Black and Tans. I was a pig-ignorant seventeen year old farm boy when I joined up in 1914, and we all thought it would be over by Christmas. I left a lot of good mates in the mud for nothing and I’ve never even told my wife about it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to deliver a speech to the Anglican Pacifist Fellowship, so piss off, you sanctimonious, bloodsucking hack.

“Jesus.”

Major-General Richard Jeremy Clarkson-Hammond, Deputy Chief of the General Staff, said:

“Splendid. It’s to honour the wonderful sacrifice of really terribly, terribly nice chaps like Albert Scrape that we do everything we can to make sure that his great-grandchildren will also have to leave bits of themselves lying around some corner of a foreign field for no reason at all.

“Was that right? Er – look, can I get back to you?”

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  1. Hi five!

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