The hum now forgotten and replaced by an indignant shrill from an advancing mob…pitch forks in hand, flamed torches burning the night air…ready for a lynching whilst the onlookers stand bemused and popcorn fed. The so-called protectors of our realm have been caught napping whilst we have struggled to defend against neighbouring invaders. We had been weakened by plagues, pestilence and impoverished performances, yet they did not unshackle the iron gates giving access to the caches of gold. As West Ham…
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