Keep The Home Fires Smokelessly Burning

There's a war on,you know. Well, there usually is, somewhere. This century has been as keen as any other so far to make sure of that.But we tend only to become interested when it is directly affecting us. This time, it seems we are to live as if we were being threatened by the Luftwaffe on a nightly basis, in terms of frugality and expressions of optimism, but without the unifying factor of a recognisable enemy. So many discrepancies exist.For example, we are now told that we must work until our seventies,so as not to be a drain on the coffers of the state. However, the news that 50 is the new 35 has not reached employers; who tend to dislike the prospect of older people working for them. There is always the danger that they might not do as they are told. And may be able to spell and show everyone up. I am considering Vince Cable's statement that Britain is at war,economically speaking, and what I think is that we ought to take this at face value,and start behaving appropriately. To do this,we need to immerse ourselves in the right films of the period, and give ourselves the full 40's makeover. Reality need not intrude too much. Living temporarily (and is there any other way?) with a parent who experienced the Second World War, does not lead me to suppose that people were any different,nor that there was a profound departure from behaviour of the nasty,mean,and self-centred kind, fundamentally the default setting of the human race,alas. But we could pretend,couldn't we? Just for a couple of months,we could try and act like the cast of "This Happy Breed". Age,race,gender,no barrier..some of us might need a bit of elecution training, and perhaps it would be reckless to adopt cheery Cockney lingo,if one is ,au fond, Northern working class.But we shall see.All our children want to speak like American black youth in any case,which they aren't; any more than they are John Howard Davies as "Oliver".Surely if they can pretend to be one thing they are not,another,different role might be as easily essayed?  A few lessons in sedate queuing, holding doors open, giving up seats on buses to the elderly and infirm (Me!),and doing up  rows and rows of buttons, might be provided. Hats would be worn.It would be acceptable, at weekends, to have a couple of drinks and sing stirring songs around the Old Joanna, topped awf with a jolly nice fish supper. It would not be acceptable to bit the ears of others ,or to fall acrawse the bins in Mathew St with one's panties aroud one's ankles.You rarely saw Celia Johnson doing that.
Some stiff upper lip (moustaches optional for both sexes),might make a nice change too. Keep those feelings to yourself,for the duration. Mobile telephone numbers would be changed to have one's home area at the beginning, and would be answered only when socially graceful, with "Good Afternoon, this is Huyton 76899"or some such. Woolton Pie would make a re-appearance, and we could make out it was invented in Woolton this time. We already have advertisements for Spam,and oddly-named fish sneaking into our fish fingers;we are only a breath away from Snoek,and powdered egg.  Smoking would be made compulsory,and television would revert to black-and-white, and finish firmly at 9pm,when all decent people should be in bed anyway.
Our current National Anthem is miserable,without being in the slightest bit amusing.I propose that we replace it with this rousing tribute to determined gloom and self-destruction from Sir Noel Coward;

 "There Are Bad Times Just Around The Corner"

They're out of sorts in Sunderland
And terribly cross in Kent
They're dull in Hull
And the Isle of Mull
Is seething with discontent

They're nervous in Northumberland
And Devon is down the drain

They're filled with wrath
On the Firth of Forth
And sullen on Salisbury Plain

In Dublin, they're depressed
Lads

Maybe because they're Celts?
for Drake is going West
Lads....
And so is everyone else
Hurray-hurray-hurray!
Misery's here to stay.

Refrain 1

There are bad times just around the corner

There are dark clouds hurtling through the sky
And it's no good whining
About a silver lining
for we know from experience that they won't roll by

With a scowl and a frown
We'll keep our peckers down
And prepare for depression and doom and dread

We're going to unpack our troubles from our old kit bag
And wait until we drop down dead

Verse 2

from Portland Bill to Scarborough
They're querulous and subdued
And Shropshire lads
Have behaved like cads
from Berwick-on-Tweed to Bude

They're mad at Market Harborough
And livid at Leigh-on-Sea

In Tunbridge Wells
You can hear the yells
Of woe-begone bourgeoisie
We all get bitched about
Lads

Whoever our vote elects

We know we're up the spout
Lads
And that's what England expects
Hurray-hurray-hurray!
Trouble is on the way

Refrain 2

There are bad times just around the corner

The horizon's gloomy as can be

There are black birds over
The grayish cliffs of Dover
And the rats are preparing to leave the BBC
We're an unhappy breed
And very bored indeed
When reminded of something that Nelson said
While the press and the politicians nag nag nag
We'll wait until we Drop Down Dead."

So commit that to memory, and Vince will lead us in song.When he has popped into his Homburg and 1940's pinstripes. Then later we can sing "Please Don't Be Beastly To The Bundesbank" With the right leadership and attitude, if we all pull together, it could all be over by Christmas.