David, David, David. What to do with you. Remember a long time ago – was it yesterday? when you and some of your bestest pals had one of those, “I can state categorically…..” moments and were saying there’ll be no British boots on the ground in Mali? That really, big sandy, jungley country we asked you to check out in your atlas? Remember? And today what are you up to you rascal? Yup, you and some of your bestest rascally chums announce you’ll be sending three or four hundred of our boys over there. For starters I’m betting. Dave, get a grip on that saying stuff without thinking thingy will you? Please?
Hay, wait a minute Dave!! We’re broke right? Cutting the military budget right? Got ya Dave!! Damn, you’re a clever little puppy. You’re sending the guys out there with no boots, right? ‘No boots on the ground’!! Bloody brilliant!! “Listen up you guys! You’re going native. You’re going in bare-foot so leave your boots by your bunks. Oh, and leave your guns at airport security after checking in.”
You know what? Boots aside, can you smell Brussels sprouts all over this debacle in the simmering?
Quote; George McGovern.
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