These days, you can’t claim to have truly honoured the fallen unless you’ve had a poppy-adorned howitzer on display outside your bungalow since at least early October. And you’re rightly smeared as despicable and unpatriotic – unworthy of enjoying the dwindling freedoms our military heroes fought to preserve – if you haven’t scattered a load of limbless mannequins on your front lawn to add that special something to your DIY Somme ahead of Remembrance Sunday (a scene of unsettling thousand-yard stares because they’ve seen some shit in TK Maxx). Is your poppy smaller than a standard hubcap? Well, fuck you if it is!
Are you berating Naga Munchetty on social media for wearing her poppy on the wrong side? Well, I hope you can type one-handed – because you should be saluting with the other hand, you super patriotic legend! (Although, when you’ve finished rage-tweeting about Naga and packed away your Blu-ray edition of The Longest Day, pop over to the Royal British Legion’s website, where you’ll see that there is no ‘correct’ way to wear a poppy.)
Of course, I imagine all the people blathering on about Naga’s poppy looked on with chest-bursting pride as our dishevelled Prime Minister attended a Remembrance service looking like he’d literally been fired from a howitzer, before splashing spectacularly into a vat of Tignanello like a tragic circus act. It looked like Wilf had done his tie, while his suit button strained to hold against his corpulence (which no amount of running to Andrew Marr’s studio seems to able to shift). I honestly wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d reached for his pocket square to dab away a tear only to find some kebab meat in his breast pocket.
But I guess all that is just fine with Tory voters and people policing acts of Remembrance, isn’t it? Naga – BAD! White poppies – BAD! Worzel fucking Gummidge with the nuclear codes – proud, respectful, dignified. Typical ruddy Boris, eh?!
The fallen must be turning in their graves.