[Samanfur]

Did anyone else listen to Mercer on PM yesterday?

An utter car crash, using the full bingo card of excuses. Starts at 39:25 here.

[Tubby Isaacs]

Not sure he's helping.

[Andy McDandy]

Still looks pissed.

[Tubby Isaacs]

Look at the arrows on this map. Labour are really going for Mercer.

I'd actually like to see some of those go do Dorset South, but perhaps there are two many old people there for Labour to win.

[Andy McDandy]

Who do you think you're kidding, Mr Mercer...

[mattomac]

How times change to be honest, was a time when Cornish members were expected to bus up to Plymouth and Exeter.

If the data for Plymouth Moor View is good I expect some of that to cross over the border.

[Arrowhead]

Another noteworthy scalp for Labour last week, then. Mercer suffered a 33% drop in support and saw his Labour opponent, Fred Thomas, bag a highly respectable 5,600 majority in the process.

Mercer fleetingly seemed like quite an interesting character when he first came into parliament in 2015, and was even rumoured to be on the verge of quitting the Tories around the time of his notorious "The Tories are a shit show" interview in October 2018. But then along came Boris The Ledge and Johnny quickly morphed into just another boorish Tory twat in the end.

[Andy McDandy]

At times I felt sorry for him. His "Veterans' affairs" office was little more than a contact point for frustrated ex-services people to call or email and complain, while all Mercer could really offer was a shoulder to cry on. As Kipling, or the Levellers*, could attest, historically the government has not given much of a shit about old soldiers, ever.

His recent appearances showed a very different side to him - surly, aggressive, often pointlessly so. It went beyond professional/party animosity into genuine snarling hatred. The rumour was that he has/had a serious alcohol problem, and I can believe it.

*The rock band or the 17th century political movement.

[Samanfur]

At times I felt sorry for him. His "Veterans' affairs" office was little more than a contact point for frustrated ex-services people to call or email and complain, while all Mercer could really offer was a shoulder to cry on. As Kipling, or the Levellers*, could attest, historically the government has not given much of a shit about old soldiers, ever.

I 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!

[Andy McDandy]

Or in another age:

Some folks are born made to wave the flag
Hoo, they're red, white and blue
And when the band plays "Hail to the chief"
Ooh, they point the cannon at you, Lord

It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no senator's son, son
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no furtunate one, no

Some folks are born silver spoon in hand
Lord, don't they help themselves, Lord?
But when the taxman come to the door
Lord, the house lookin' like a rummage sale, yeah

It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no millionaire's son, no, no
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no fortunate one, no

Yeah-yeah, some folks inherit star-spangled eyes
Hoo, they send you down to war, Lord
And when you ask 'em, "How much should we give?"
Hoo, they only answer, "More, more, more, more"

It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no military son, son, Lord
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no fortunate son

[Malcolm Armsteen]

Also Kipling:

common form

If any question why we died,
Tell them, because our fathers lied.