The state of terror

Well, hello there, friend -- I'm Winston Churchill, former Prime Minister of the English Empire. It's been a while since we've talked, mostly on account of my being dead for over forty-five years. Nonetheless, let me get a glass of Johnnie Walker Red in my hand... and... aahh. Perfect. Just like the old days. When I still drew breath.

My countrymen, the Britons, have faced many a foe throughout the centuries. And, as I have always said, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender.

But I have to say, that the fight looks pretty good so long as the bad guys are only lobbing burning Jeeps though sliding glass doors. For a minute there, we had a problem on our hands with the Irish. Nasty bit of business, that. Now a pack of sodding rotters from Bangalore are filling up Daimlers with petrol cans and forgetting to detonate them? This sorry lot makes those cabbage-mouthed Irish bastards look like Ghurkas in comparison. What's next -- water balloon assault?

Take it from Uncle Winnie -- I think we stand a good chance of seeing Trafalgar Square make it through this latest bit of international intrigue in one piece. The Gerries had their buzzbombs, and the Jutes had their berzerkers... we can handle a few irate rug merchants with subscriptions to "Popular Mechanics."

Pip pip, then.