So you want to run away, do you?

You spineless bloody swine!

Leave us in the lurch, will you?

While you cower there, and whine!

 

Well, balls to that! You yellow dastards!

I’ll see you swing, you hapless shits!

On the end of a rope! YOU LOUSY BASTARDS!

Who needs the bloody French in a war anyway? The whole bloody shower’s about as useful as a chocolate fucking tea-pot! You mark my words – come the next time the bloody Krauts start marching across Europe, you can be BLOODY GUARANTEED that the bloody French will be the first bloody ones to go hiding under a bloody … sorry, this is supposed to be a poem. Ahem …

 

I’LL SEE YOU DANGLING BY YOUR CUSTARD-BELLIED NECKS! D’YE HEAR?

EVEN IF I HAVE TO STRING THE LOT OF YOU UP MYSELF! I’LL WILLINGLY VOLUNTEER FOR THE JOB!

 

YES? D’YE HEAR THAT, Mr. Mitterand?

 

THE WHOLE BLOODY ROTTEN LOT OF YOU!