throw spears at Tarzan or the Indians when they’re scalping the United States Cavalry.The new rich people go home after Mass on Sundays all airs  and  stuff  themselves  with  meat  and  potatoes,  sweets  and  cakes galore, and they think nothing of drinking their tea from delicate little cups which stand in saucers to catch the tea that overflows and when they lift the cups they stick out their little fingers to show how refined they are. Some stop going to fish and chip shops altogether because you see nothing in those places but drunken soldiers and night girls and men that drank their dole and their wives screeching at them to come home.The brave new rich will be seen at the Savoy Restaurant or the Stella drink- ing tea, eating little buns, patting their lips with serviettes if you don’t mind,coming home on the bus and complaining the service is not what it used to be.They have electricity now so they can see things they never saw before and when darkness falls they turn on the new wireless to hear how the war is going.They thank God for Hitler because if he hadn’t marched all over Europe the men of Ireland would still be at home scratching their arses on the queue at the Labour Exchange. Some families sing, Yip aye aidy aye ay aye oh Yip aye aidy aye ay, We don’t care about England or France, All we want is the German advance. If there’s a chill in the air they’ll turn on the electric fire for the comfort that’s in it and sit in their kitchens listening to the news declar- ing  how  sorry  they  are  for  the  English  women  and  children  dying under the German bombs but look what England did to us for eight hundred years. The families with fathers in England are able to lord it over the families that don’t. At dinnertime and teatime the new rich mothers stand at their doors and call to their children, Mikey, Kathleen, Paddy, come in for yeer dinner.Come in for the lovely leg o’lamb and the gor- geous green peas and the floury white potatoes. Sean, Josie, Peggy, come in for yeer tea, come in at wanst for the fresh bread and butter and the gorgeous blue duck egg what no one else in the lane have. Brendan,Annie, Patsy, come in for the fried black puddin’, the siz- zlin’ sausages and the lovely trifle soaked in the best of Spanish sherry. 217