Metro Hotel Woking soldier – Rudyard Kipling Comments (he is a blogwriter here sometimes, although dead.)

WENT into a public ‘ouse to get a pint o’beer,
The publican ‘e up an’ sez, “We serve no red-coats here.”
The girls be’ind the bar they laughed an’ giggled fit to die,
I outs into the street again an’ to myself sez I:

O it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, go away”;
But it’s “Thank you, Mister Atkins,” when the band begins to play,
The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
O it’s “Thank you, Mr. Atkins,” when the band begins to play.

I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
They gave a drunk civilian room, but ‘adn’t none for me;
They sent me to the gallery or round the music ‘alls,
But when it comes to fightin’, Lord! they’ll shove me in the stalls!

For it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, wait outside”;
But it’s “Special train for Atkins” when the trooper’s on the tide,
The troopship’s on the tide, my boys, the troopship’s on the tide,
O it’s “Special train for Atkins” when the trooper’s on the tide.

Yes, makin’ mock o’ uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an’ they’re starvation cheap;
An’ hustlin’ drunken soldiers when they’re goin’ large a bit
Is five times better business than paradin’ in full kit.

Then it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy how’s yer soul?”
But it’s “Thin red line of ‘eroes” when the drums begin to roll,
The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
O it’s “Thin red line of ‘eroes” when the drums begin to roll.

We aren’t no thin red ‘eroes, nor we aren’t no blackguards too,
But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you;
An’ if sometimes our conduck isn’t all your fancy paints:
Why, single men in barricks don’t grow into plaster saints;

While it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an “Tommy, fall be’ind,”
But it’s “Please to walk in front, sir,” when there’s trouble in the wind,
There’s trouble in the wind, my boys, there’s trouble in the wind,
O it’s “Please to walk in front, sir,” when there’s trouble in the wind.

You talk o’ better food for us, an’schools, an’ fires an’ all:
We’ll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.
Don’t mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face
The Widow’s Uniform is not the soldier-man’s disgrace.

For it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Chuck him out, the brute!”
But it’s “Saviour of ‘is country,” when the guns begin to shoot;
Yes it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ anything you please;
But Tommy ain’t a bloomin’ fool–you bet that Tommy sees!

Rudyard Kipling (learn about him.)

Metro Hotel Woking soldier … Notice to all human beings: don’t stay at the Metro Hotel, Woking, Surrey, England.

It seems the blogosphere is picking this hoo-hah up. Here’s democracyforum…..and here’s….and here’s accommodationtips by Angry_Soldier…..and….here’s Tom Jackson online….and it seems that the poor bastards who own the hotel have really shot themselves in the foot. I would not be surprised in it’s in the Daily Mail and the Sun by now. An unwise thing to do, if I was running that business, since there are still, even in 2008, enough people who know how to type and who would be incensed by this.

And here’s the Wondering Brit. And even the BBC, the bought-and-paid-for Stalinist trumpeters of anti-liberal leftism. Oh, shit.

Oh dear dear dera, and here’s another one.

Things look bad for the poor place. So….here’s the post!

And, no, I am NOT pleased in a sort of schadenfreude-ish sort of way either – it reflects badly on our country and our people.

David Davis (not that one)

It seems that, with a titanic battle going on for the fate of Western Civilisation, it is “company policy” for this outfit not to accept  “military personnel” as paying guests. Here is a story in the Torygraph which angered me just now.

While a hotel or a chain is of course someone’s property, like most things, and therefore while the owner(s) ought to be able to decide who they will and will not accept money from, it does seem rather, well, leftist and therefore institutionally-ungrateful to do this, to a poor young man, just back from putting his own life on the line philosphically-speaking, for the very people who are refusing him.

And late at night on a Sunday too. How low can you get? the poor bugger spent the night in his car. Probably more comfortable anyway than some leftist-leaning rooming-house in Woking.

We at the Libertarian Alliance do disagree with each other about the strategic or moral rightness, or not, of the various wars into which this stalinist set of gangsters in Westminster government has plunged us. Sean Gabb takes the view in general that, if no vital UK interest is at stake, then we ought not to be involved. I can see his point much of the time. I take the view that Anglosphere nations cannot, and must not, in an imperfect and still largely unlibertarian world, avoid going to war for the vital interests of other people.

It is our duty as civilised individuals, either to get coalitions together to abolish things like slavery (AND inside other “states” or “jurisdictions”, not just on the High Seas, which we ought of course to police properly as this is merely a minimal symptom of rationality), or pre-capitalist-barbarism-suppported-by-tyranny-and aggression, against clearly unwilling and wretched populations.

While there is a supply of young chaps like this soldier, who do what they do, then the least we ought to expect from businesses is some clear statement of their beliefs – if they have some reason either to “conscientiously object” to having soldiers on their premises, or if they think that such riff-raff will lower the tone of the establishment, or trash the place. I’m not so far aware that this latter is a problem, so are hotels facing it yet?

We just needed to know either way, and there would have been no problem. The poor squaddie would have gone somewhere else without complaint. Then, the stalinist set of gangsters in Westminster government can come out, if it dares to, with some regulation or other “preventing discrimination against members of the armed forces, in today’s vibrant multicultural society in Britain”.

But it won’t, will it.

All it would have taken was a notice outside – “No military personnel – in or out of uniform”. Job done!

(Why can I NEVER type the word “soldiers” right the first time, without internally spoonerising the letters?)

Afterthought: I wonder if they’d have turned away Gen. Sir “Mike” Jackson, or the Chief of Imperial Defence Staff – or whatever that office is now called?