Tag Archives: afghanistan

I’m lovin’ war

I came across this artist who wanted to remain anonymous for legal reasons.

They are very provocative pieces that challenge people’s perceptions about the real reasons why the west are engaged in conflicts around the globe.

The “I’m lovin’ war” series aim to make the statement that the real power and influence about who the west wages war against are large corporations and their profit margins.

Not intended to criticise the men and women of the armed forces – whose bravery is without question – the works are designed to illustrate how they are being duped by their governments and being used as private security forces for large corporations.

The idea proposes that, in the future, armies might go into battle sponsored by brands in the same way that sports are.

McDonald's, I'm lovin te

“i’m lovin’ war”, Artist Unknown. Click to enlarge.

Shell, Shell Oil, art, modern art

Click to enlarge

Goldman Sachs, art, modern art, war,

Click to enlarge.

Personally, I’m more of a Burger King man.

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Not much has changed in 90 years

‘Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori’ roughly translates as: ‘It is sweet and fitting to die for one’s country.’

Regular readers of this blog will know I have a penchant for poetry, but as yet, I haven’t included any of the great war poets.

After seeing some very disturbing images on The Guardian website of injured children in Afghanistan, this classic by Wilfred Owen came to mind. I appreciate that the victims in the news photographs are non-combatants, unlike the ones Owen describes in his poem. However, by the looks on the victims’ faces, it does seem poignant over 90 years after he wrote it.

The ways in which wars are fought these days might have changed. But not the ways in which we die.

Dulce Et Decorum Est

by Wilfred Owen

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!–An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime…
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,–
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.


P.S. It’s worth noting that Wilfred Owen was killed in action one week before the end of the First World War.


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Afghan Stan

Afghan Stan radio sketch

© David Milligan-Croft

SOLDIER:    Sarge, can you take a look at my rifle. It doesn’t seem to be working.

SARGE:        Give it here, son. What’s the matter with it?

SOLDIER:    Well, it doesn’t seem to have a trigger.

SARGE:        No trigger?

SOLDIER:    Or a barrel for that matter. Or a stock, magazine or bullets.

SARGE:        That’s because it’s a stick, Private.

SOLDIER:    Yes, Sarge, I can see that. Just wondered how we were supposed to fight the Taliban with it.

SARGE:        Use your imagination lad! Like this, (makes child-like shooting noises) terrreerr, p-koo, p-koo, cherrreerrrerrrr.

SOLDIER:     Sarge?

SARGE:          P-yowng, p-koo… Yes, Laddy?

SOLDIER:      Can I get a transfer to the RAF?

SARGE:           Ask over there by that Apache Attack Helicopter.

SOLDIER:       Sarge? That’s an ice cream van.

SARGE:           K-poo, k-poo, p-yowng, (FADE)

SFX:                 TEDDY BEAR’S PICNIC.

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Filed under Comedy, Ideas, Politics, Radio, Writing

Behind you!

Do you ever get the feeling you’re looking for the wrong thing?

“We may pass violets looking for roses. We may pass contentment looking for victory.” – Bern Williams.

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