Not even to speak of “sending a plane” thy lone carrier lies idle, ten days from readiness, and thy proud warship sits becalmed for want of powder. Rule Britannia? Aye… once, perchance. Now but an echo upon the wind. Spend not a single bullet, my lord, upon such hollow boasts. Let him stew in the brine of his own folly, whilst the world nips at his vanity. Begone, thou blustering shade trouble us no more with thy thunder that bears no storm.
Create an account or sign in to comment