Oxford Street at Christmas

Scene: The Somme, Christmas, 1915

Private: "Why sir, 'tis sunrise. Must be Christmas day, cor' blimey"

Sergeant: "Damn you Smithkins, I'm sick of your insolence!"

Private: "But sir, it's the 'appiest time of the year. Why right na, daaan Laaaandon taaaan, the arfs are bein' lit, the carollers are warming their vocal cords and the little street ragamuffins are 'avin a snow ball fight. All along White Chapel, you can smell the turkey, 'ear the songs and feel the good cheer that comes this time of year. And that warms me cockels, so it does, while us poor souls are 'ere, bein' shot at by fritz"

Sergeant: "I'm sorry Smithkins, you're right. It's this damned war, ye' see? I'm not a bad chap, got a girl back home, mother and father are probably worried silly for me. Nannie will have got the presents round the tree, little Johnnie will be so excited. Even Parsons, the grumpy old gamekeeper will be happy, with a port in his hand and a grouse under his arm. It's wonderful back home, this time and all, snow on the fields, the old cook's wonderful plum duff. Blast it Smithkins, Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas one and all!"

Private: "Oh sir! Merry Christmas!"

(all of a sudden several dozen German troops bound into the trench, the pair unawares as they embrace)

German soldier: "Hey! Halt! Acht! Jetzt! Jetzt!"

Sergeant: "What the....?"

(The Sergeant is cut off as the Germans open fire at point blank range. Both men are mowed down by the hail of gunfire, their insides explode into the stagnant black mud that's been their home for a year. They fall into the mud, hand in hand)

Private: "Sir (coughs blood) I think this is the end. Sir, I'm sorry I failed you."

Sergeant: "No, Smithkins, aaarrrghh, it's me who failed you. If only I'd...arrggghh...damn this war..."

Private: "I can't feel my legs, sir. It's all...it's all cold sir..."

Sergeant: "Ye gads, it hurts, maybe I can get up, maybe...."

(A German soldier sees them trying to get up)

German: Nein! Nein! (mows them down once again. Into the dirt, the excrement and the blood of a million innocent souls)

I would rather be there than on Oxford Street this week.