Volume 153 — MODEL DIALOGUES FOR AIR-RAIDS.
Reading edition
[A few specimen conversations are here suggested as suitable for the conditions which we have lately experienced. The idea is to discourage the Hun by ignoring those conditions or explaining them away. For similar conversations in actual life blank verse would not of course be obligatory.]
I.
A. Beautiful weather for the time of year! B. A perfect spell, indeed, of halcyon calm, Most grateful here in Town, and, what is more, A priceless gift to our brave lads in France, Whose need is sorer, being sick of mud. A. They have our first thoughts ever, and, if Heaven Had not enough good weather to go round, Gladly I'd sacrifice this present boon And welcome howling blizzards, hail and flood, So they, out there, might still be warm and dry.
II.
C. Have you observed the alien in our midst, How strangely numerous he seems to-day, Swarming like migrant swallows from the East? D. I take it they would fain elude the net Spread by Conscription's hands to haul them in. All day they lurk in cover Houndsditch way, Dodging the copper, and emerge at night To snatch a breath of Occidental air And drink the ozone of our Underground.
III.
E. How glorious is the Milky Way just now! F. True. In addition to the regular stars I saw a number flash and disappear. E. I too. A heavenly portent, let us hope, Presaging triumph to our British arms.
IV.
G. Methought I heard yestreen a loudish noise Closely resembling the report of guns. H. Ay, you conjectured right. Those sounds arose From anti-aircraft guns engaged in practice Against the unlikely advent of the Hun. One must be ready in a war like this To face the most remote contingencies. G. Something descended on the next back-yard, Spoiling a dozen of my neighbour's tubers. H. No doubt a live shell mixed among the blank; Such oversights from time to time occur Even in Potsdam, where the casual sausage Perishes freely in a feu de joie.
V.
J. We missed you badly at our board last night. K. The loss was mine. I could not get a cab. Whistling, as you're aware, is banned by law, And when I went in person on the quest The streets were void of taxis. J. And to what Do you attribute this unusual dearth? K. The general rush to Halls of Mirth and Song, Never so popular. The War goes well, And London's millions needs must find a way To vent their exaltation—else they burst. J. But could you not have travelled by the Tube? K. I did essay the Tube, but found it stuffed. The atmosphere was solid as a cheese, And I was loath to penetrate the crowd Lest it should shove me from behind upon The electric rail. J. Can you account for that? K. I should ascribe it to the harvest moon, That wakes romance in Metropolitan breasts, Drawing our young war-workers out of town To seek the glamour of the country lanes Under the silvery beams to lovers dear. O.S.