I Need A Holiday With No Internet Access

I desperately need a rest, as I have been suffering delusions of socialism recently due to the strange behaviour of my alter ego. So we're heading off to the heartland of Cromwellian republicanism in Oxford to stay with Linda's family. Augustus should be well at home - perhaps I can get him installed as Chancellor as a smack in the teeth for the University colleges' refusal to accept Charles Clarke's proposed limits on their top-up fees.

Last night Linda had to nudge me awake, only for me to discover that Jed was in tears and I was singing this wierd song at the top of my voice.

"The people's flag is deepest red,
It shrouded oft our martyr'd dead
And ere their limbs grew stiff and cold,
Their hearts' blood dyed its ev'ry fold.









Then raise the scarlet standard high,
Within its shade we'll live and die,
Though cowards flinch and traitors sneer,
We'll keep the red flag flying here.

Look round, the Frenchman loves its blaze,
The sturdy German chants its praise,
In Moscow's vaults its hymns are sung,
Chicago swells the surging throng.

It waved above our infant might
When all ahead seemed dark as night;
It witnessed many a deed and vow,
We must not change its colour now.

It well recalls the triumphs past;
It gives the hope of peace at last:
The banner bright, the symbol plain,
Of human right and human gain.

It suits today the meek and base,
Whose minds are fixed on pelf and place,
To cringe before the rich man's frown
And haul the sacred emblem down.

With heads uncovered swear we all
To bear it onward till we fall.
Come dungeon dark or gallows grim,
This song shall be our parting hymn.

Then raise the scarlet standard high,
Within its shade we'll live and die,
Though cowards flinch and traitors sneer,
We'll keep the red flag flying here.

I don't know what the song was about, but I was pretty embarrassed, I can tell you. I definitely need a break! See you in September.