Externally no-one would imagine there was a stfcon going on, no beanies, zap guns (or water pistols) in fact no fun at all.

Even the dull cattle crooned and gazed.

There were the everlasting hills around, even as they had grown for countless ages, beneath the still depths of the primeval chalk ocean, in the milky youth of this great English land.

Unthinking Anglo-Saxons regard him as a Gallic marplot, rather than the great twentieth-century statesman he was – certainly the greatest Frenchman since Napoleon.