At the risk of sacrilege after such heart-felt poetry, oh Pooh-Bah, this reminded me of a little joke about revolutionary oratory.

The scene is a mass meeting of workers in a large factory, being addressed by the fire-brand leader of the Union. His speech holding out the promise of the view from the mountain top, sweeps towards its conclusion with the array of glittering prizes for the workers 'after the revolution'.

"After the revolution, you' ll all be driving Rolls Royces..."

A little voice pipes up from the back of the crowd:
"But I don't want to drive a Rolls Royce!"

The orator looks sternly over to the interruption, and snarls:

"After the revolution, you will drive a bloody Rolls Royce whether you want to or not!"