When I was younger and living on the farm, my father wanted me to go into the Army because I was a crack-shot with a rifle. I was also the typical seven-stone weakling, very timid, devoted to a slowly-dying mother, and the idea didn't appeal to me. Also, they wouldn't taken me. Four decades later and four stones heavier, I watch the television every day and am appalled at the young faces which flash on to the screen almost on a daily basis. Lives which have been sacrificed, they calim, so that we may be free. In days of yore, perhaps, but not today. Our young men and women are getting killed because politicians are too fond of poking their noses into other people's affairs. They should fetch the troops out and sent the bog-wigs in. Give them a sword or a rifle each and let them slog it out between them.
My private war was previously a vociferous one. With my father, back in those days which were a mixture of awfulness and excitement. I only realise how awful, and how exciting, when I start reflecting for my memoirs, which I have been commissioned to write. Now it has become silent, and silence is the greatest fear, the greatest weapon of them all. Silence is the trip-wire big men fear.