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Class War issue 78: Lord Snooty's Column
Dear Chums,
The long summer has brought back memories of my years at Cambridge. Punting along the cam, long afternoons sipping tea in Grantchester meadows. The smell of cut grass and the sounds of willow on buttock.
I remember one summer's eve, a fresh faced youth with a Johnny Foreigner name - ah yes, that was it, Portillo, was presented to me in my study. A freckly faced youth, he had apparently been caught with another youth, a Nick Griffin, indulging in "horseplay". Of course it was 6 sharp strokes of my riding crop for each of them, followed by us all dressing as SS officers and firing paper clips at a young Peter Lilley, who if I remember rightly was naked but for a strategically placed flag of Poland. Oh happy days.
Anyway back to pressing matters, those stirring chaps at the Countryside Alliance are going to be marching triumphantly through all our major cities in the months to come. Having already been mooned at by disgusting building workers in Bournemouth we are concerned that some leftie types called Urban Response are going to try and block our way. Well away with them! Your Lord and master commands you to throw them off our streets.
Toodle Pip and over to my nephew, Tarquin,
Snooty
Gosh, hello chaps, its comrade Tarquin here at the SWP, after my uncle Snooty was such a smasher and bought me the Socialist Workers Party as a 21st birthday present. Everyone here is absolutely super, it's just like being back at school. There's an old codger called Tony, who's an old school chum of my dad's and all the leaders have been to proper public schools so its all super. Then we have the cadre who frankly are a bit middle class, they act like school prefects and do what we say, but they will keep on calling the loo the toilet - I shall have to write a little memo.
We have a little fun club we start up every now and then called the Anti-Nazi League and we've even been to Dover for a picnic. We saw some nasty skinheads there who were common types so we shouted some clever slogans to make them go away.
Anyway it's off to Verbier for the skiing this season, then off to my uncle's for shooting.
Ciao,
Comrade Tarquin
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