What rankles in my humble breast is not so much the barbarity of the
Beast, but the humiliating reflection that we allowed him to prowl
amongst us masquerading as a fat sheep, grazing peacefully in our
verdant pastures!
I submit that all Huns, male and female, should be sent to Coventry by
the Allies for at least one decade. It would be fatuous to suppose that
any Hun could change his character during so brief a period, but “doing
time” may teach him--as it has taught other criminals--that it pays
to be honest. It is not likely that the Baby Killers and Pirates will
recognise any principle except expediency.
It is a comforting thought, also, that the Hun, after this war, will
be ill provided with what schoolboys call--“journey-money.” In the
pleasant land of France, sur les côtes d’azur et éméraude, our ears
will not be split by their raucous, spluttering accents; our eyes will
not be offended by their obese, ridiculous persons. We shall, I hope,
wander in peace through the Eternal City. I remember a young Hun at
Wengen who barged into every skater on the rink not adroit enough to
avoid him. I do not expect to meet him again.
For this alone may the Lord be praised!