He’s a young lad this one. Wet behind the ruddy ears. He’s probably only got that sword recently. It might have been a birthday present. Of course, I don’t know much about swordsmanship, but looking at his hands, I don’t reckon he has much of a proper grip on it neither.
And look at his ruddy haircut! That’s not a swordsman’s haircut. He isn’t dressed like a swordsman either. With that lilac tunic over a yellow shirt and his bright red boots over pea green tights, he would be better off somewhere where he would have a chance of turning the lasses’ heads, rather than messing about with that ruddy sword in a windswept field. He just doesn’t look right with it. does he.
The ruddy problem is that the world is full of young fellers like him. Young lads full of big ideas that they haven’t thought through properly. Lads like that are ripe for the picking of older men. Men who have thought their ideas through and don’t give a damn about the ruddy consequences. Men with wickedness in their hearts. As well as men who sell ruddy swords.
The next time you hear on the news about some young feller who has sacrificed his life for some ideal, think about the Page of Swords. Despite the stupid haircut he is a good looking young man. And good looking young men will insist on having stupid haircuts, won’t they. I wonder if his mother knows about that sword? I bet his ruddy father does. Somebody has got it into his head that it is better to spend his time with swords than with his family, with lasses, and with people who love him.
There are plenty of young lads like him around today. Strapping ruddy dynamite to their chests or buggering off to fight battles in foreign countries. Or just generally looking for some excuse to use weapons on other people. And those wicked older men are always around to tell them who to turn their weapons on, encourage them with praise and big idealist excuses for doing it. But all they end up doing is breaking their mothers hearts, and the hearts of the mothers of the people that they ruddy well kill.
Four things that you might do this week. (i) Take all the weapons out of the toy box of any kiddies that you know, and swap them for some useful toys. A microscope, a stethoscope, a paint box. The world needs more scientists, doctors and artists, we don’t need ruddy soldiers. (ii) The same goes for ruddy computer games an’all. Try and give them something better to do than trying to blow people to smithereens. Nobody deserves to be blown to smithereens. And nobody is born with the natural desire to blow anyone to smithereens either? But the more often kiddies play at blowing people to smithereens in ruddy computer games, the more easily they can be persuaded to do it to people for real. (iii) try not to roll your eyes and tut the next time you see a young lad with a stupid haircut. They like their stupid haircuts, and if you roll your eyes and tut it makes them hate you and anyone like you, as well as making them more determined to persevere with their stupid ruddy haircuts. (iv) if you do know any young, impressionable lads (and all young lads are impressionable, let them know that you love them, and that you don’t hold with violence.
I’m sure you know what it’s like with men and their hobbies. They can’t just take an interest in something, they have to go the whole ruddy hog and spend a fortune getting all the right equipment, and the proper clothes, and magazines and books about how to do it properly. It doesn’t matter wether it’s golf, fishing, photography or ruddy well tiddlywinks, if a bloke gets “the bug” for something, it’s never going to be cheap.
My Raymond’s brother Cyril once fancied himself as one of them snooker players. So he joined one of them clubs where they had the full sized tables, and had a few games, but he never managed to pot many balls. So he reckons that all the snooker sticks in the club must be warped, and goes out and spends fifteen ruddy quid on one for himself. And that was in 1970s money. That’s more than £150 in today’s money, probably. Alright, so it was a three quarter split with “two detachable extension for those hard to reach places,” and it was made out of Canadian Maple with an Ebony butt, but Fifteen Ruddy Quid! I would have expected it to come with its own balls and a jar of lubricant for that sort of money.
And then of course he had to have a case for it. And a waistcoat with a little leather lined pocket to hold his chalk in. I don’t think that him and April may managed a week in Scarborough that year. They had to make do with a few coach trips instead.
And the thing was, he never got any better at playing the ruddy game for all the money he spent, and ended up selling the gear to a bloke down the club for a fraction of what he paid for it, to raise some money to buy himself an accordion with. And you can imagine how long that fad lasted an’all.
Any road, the five of swords is telling you that there will always be someone who benefits when you give up on something that cost you an arm and a leg to get into. Those poor blokes on the beach have come to the realisation that war is a bad business, it ain’t nothing but a heart breaker, friend only to the undertaker. So they have decided to leave their swords on the beach. Huh! Good God, y’all.
But along comes ginger, grinning all over his face and pinching them, no doubt to turn a profit on them. I just hope that he is going to melt them down and turn them into ruddy ploughshares, or something. Them blokes won’t miss the swords, but their ruddy wives will have a few questions to ask about what happened to the money that they paid for them. And there’ll be a few red faces over the breakfast table, I can tell you.
Four things that you might do this week. (i) if you are thinking of starting a new hobby, borrow the equipment until you are sure that you are going to keep it up. And even then, don’t buy the most expensive equipment, you’ll just be paying for the ruddy name. Having said that, don’t buy the cheapest either, it’ll be shite. (ii) When you are sorting out your finances, make sure that you have enough money for a decent holiday. Nobody really likes coach trips. You spend too much time on the bus getting cramp and dying for a wee. And even if they have got a toilet on board, you can guarantee that some filthy so and so will have pittled all over the ruddy seat, and there will be no paper left. None that is dry, any road. (iii) Go beachcombing. It’s great fun at any time of the year. My Raymond once found a bottle of rum that was half full. It had probably fallen off a ship in a storm or something. I wouldn’t let him drink any though. You don’t know who had had it. some ruddy pirate with bad teeth had probably had his lips around it. I took it off him and hid it at the back of the gas cupboard. I tried it while he was out. It wasn’t too bad. I wasn’t worried about my teeth, they are all ruddy false any road. (iv) Make a stand against war. Put all weapons down. And walk away.