There’ll Always Be An England

I wish today to speak of “my men”, for, from what I’ve written of them in previous postings, they must seem to you, my readers, rather mysterious. In my last posting but one, for instance, I spoke of having “men” in the USA who would track down where in Texas Jimmy lived, so that I might confront him man-to-man because of his insulting comments about the English Royal Family, who have always been as much a part of me as my heart and my soul.

For anyone to insult Her Majesty the Queen, is to insult me, and, as a loyal Englishman, I have no recourse but to call them out. Pavlovian? Quite possibly, but there it is.

The longer I’m forced to live underground in Texas, hiding out from the American police who are looking for me in all fifty states, the more I hold The Royal Family to my heart, for I feel that as long as there is a Royal Family, all is not lost, that there’ll always be an England. Each evening after supper in our cramped and dusty underground home, I and the three of my men – Mikey Squeaky and Freddy – who share it with me, sing English songs which stir our hearts, like “We’ll Meet Again”, “Jerusalem”, and, yes, “There’ll Always Be An England”. But, be assured, we never forget to sing at the end, “God Save The Queen”.

Getting back now to “my men”, Mikey Squeaky and Freddy are not the only ones of “my men”, for I have a number of them in both England and America. I use them for odd jobs like tracking down those who insult Her Majesty the Queen, and, for a fee, I refer them to third parties who need fit and trained men to do dangerous work like guarding rich businessmen against being kidnapped ; and I refer them to certain foreign governments who need mercenary soldiers to keep their restive peoples in order.

I’ll explain that, as a British Army General who served the Empire all over the world, and who served in the British diplomatic corps as military attache in many foreign capitals, including Washington, I established important contacts worldwide. When I retired, I maintained these contacts, since many needed trained free-lance men to do clandestine and dirty work, and I, as a former general, knew of many, many former British Army men who needed work, and who would suit my contacts admirably. The fees I earned for my referrals supplemented nicely my military pension.

However, my being on the run in America, has affected greatly my ability to refer suitable men to my contacts, since I must keep my whereabouts secret. Hence most of my men have gone on to greener pastures. But a handful, like Mikey Squeaky and Freddy, have stuck with me out of honour, and for other reasons which will become clear in my future postings.

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This entry was posted in Writing.

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