A Shift in Priorities - Sequel

rast

Eagles may soar, but weasels never get sucked into jet air intakes.
(Anonymous wisdom)

The Gleiterbau facility at Meckenbeuren looked unremarkable and tranquil. Inside the only aircraft hangar, the prototype of Schwesterchen was waiting for the ceramic tiles of the heat shield to arrive. The manufacturer had promised to produce tiles that were even going to be better than specified. But Eugen Sänger was accustomed to woe by now. His expectations weren’t too high: he would be happy if the stuff matched the shape of Schwesterchen at all. Whether they were able to keep out the heat one could test beforehand, but the fit could only be checked out by attaching the tiles to the space boat. And if tile number 888 didn’t fit, there was a good chance that all of them had to be removed.

No, the action right now wasn’t at Meckenbeuren, but at Friedrichshafen. The prototype of Brüderchen was ready for some initial test flights. Actually, it shouldn’t be called Little Brother but Big Brother, because it was gigantic. Sänger was duly impressed. Could that fly? – Well, as yet it hadn’t. Maiden flight was due this afternoon. Nothing great: just take off, circle one round above Lake Constance and land on the water again. Sänger had been asked, would he like to be on board? No, he wouldn’t, he’d rather sit in the tower and watch the monster perform. He could see more clearly from the outside. No insult intended, and no doubt on Dornier’s workmanship, of course…

And there Brüderchen went! It was the biggest airplane ever… – to lift off! Yes! It had left the water! A flying castle! The noise arrived. A deep rumble… Sänger checked his earplugs. Yes, they were in. – The bird was now gaining height, very slowly, very ponderously. The Dornier engineers were cheering. Okay, there was no way Brüderchen could stay in the air, it had to come down. But yes, there seemed to have existed doubts whether the widget would come out of the water. Okay, they hadn’t built a ship that looked like an aeroplane.

Brüderchen was so big that one could see it all the time, while it flew above Lake Constance. – Then, it came down, landed in an enormous cloud of sea spray. The Dornier engineers were dancing now. Sänger clapped his hands. All right, one step accomplished. – He rose, saw Hugo Eckener and his entourage down in the yard. Well, shaking hands with the big chief was always a good idea. He strolled down. – Eckener was smiling.
“Good performance! When will your tandem be ready, Eugen? I haven’t got much time left here on earth…”
 

Jotun

Wow. Just wow. The space program is picking up speed and it is pulling the rest with it, come enough time.
 

rast

The difference between stupidity and genius is that genius has its limit.
(Albert von Einstein)

Doris Zülch woke up, awfully hung over. The world was rotating in quick twists and turns, her mouth felt dry like a desert, her brimful bladder was aching. Where the hell was she? – In bed with two guys, who were snoring and puffing. She was naked – or almost, as were the blokes. – There had been this bash, and free drinks and dope… But that hadn’t been here… She rose, almost pitched forward, and thankfully stabilized her footing by leaning against the wall.

Was there a loo? Damn, no. There was another sleeping room, just mattresses on the floor, with two wenches and three buffers, all grunting. And a kind of living room, taken by a dude and a lass; but they weren’t sleeping, they were in the act, well, sort of… Plus what might rate as a kitchen, a mess… But no loo. She cursed, sensing that she couldn’t hold her pee any longer, grabbed a cleaning bucket from the kitchen mess and relieved herself. – Rats! She ought to be at the party convention. How late was it?

Where were her clothes? With an effort, she started looking for her garments, gathered them up, got eventually dressed, even found her handbag. The money was still there – and some cigarettes. Lighting a smoke, she sank down on a chair. She had no idea where she was. Should she interrupt the screwing couple and ask?
“Hi there! Already awake?”
She looked up, it was one of the guys from the other sleeping room. He was naked and his dick was erect. He saw her regarding it – and smiled.
“That’s just my morning boner. It will go away, once I get to emptying my bladder.”
“But there’s no bog here.”
“It’s halfway down the stairs. – This is Prenzlauer Berg, not Dahlem. The Water tap is on the stairs, and the loo as well, gravity type, of course.”

“I need to go to Lichtenberg, Frankfurter Allee.”
“You can take the S-Bahn. Turn left when leaving the house and keep going until you see the train station. – Take a train in eastward direction. Frankfurter Allee has a dedicated station. It’s easy.”
“Thank you.”
“Have a nice day.”
Naked as he was, his swollen rod bobbing up and down, he strolled to the toilet, while Doris was rushing down the stairs.

It was like the fellow had said. She even had time to buy a sandwich and gulp down some coffee at the station. The DFU party convention was taking place in a cinema centre, not too far from the S-Bahn. They had proper lavatories there; and Doris freshened up as good as she could. – She had missed the most exciting part. Albert Schweitzer had been elected chairman and Walter Ulbricht party secretary. Right now, the executive committee members were being elected. Doris spotted the group of delegates from Westphalia Province to whom she belonged. They weren’t complete, the two guys and the one lass, who had gone to that mad bash together with her, were missing. So, she wasn’t the only one to have fallen to the pitfalls of the capital.

The others were eying her with interest. “Where have you been?”
“Oh, surveying real estate in the Prenzlauer Berg quarter – and contacting some local peaceniks. Fascinating folks, these…”
“And Oskar, Fritz and Jenny?”
“No idea. We got separated early on.”
“You know, his lordship the party secretary has sent out his beadles to count heads. He’s not accepting that people should have other interests than party discipline.”
“You shouldn’t have elected him. He’s a fusspot and rule-monger.”
“Gee, we didn’t. But our man didn’t make it. Your vote was missing.”

“One wonders why this convention was scheduled at all,” mused Doris “only a quarter of a year after the Reichstag election. – We don’t have a new programme. We don’t participate in the government…”
“Yeah. It’s Ulbricht, who is behind that. He’s hungry for power. Schweitzer is a do-gooder and tree-hugger, who has no clue of and no interest in party work. That means that the secretary is pulling the strings.”
“Only that this party doesn’t consist of disciplined communists…”
“Right! You can see that he’s getting balder. Must be tearing his hear out in despair over such flaky delegates like you.”
 

norlag

I wonder where the DFU is heading to. They split from the communist so they are unlikely to develop in that direction.
 

rast

The Russian soul is a dark place.
(Fyodor Dostoyevsky)

The ‘Zolotoy Rog’ was afloat and travelling. One had left Kronstadt and the Gulf of Finland yesterday evening. Tonight, one expected to cruise the Skagerrak Straight heading for the Norwegian Sea. Stanislav B. Vershinin was the Admiralty Shipyard’s representative on board of the nuclear powered cruiser. He was boss of twelve engineers and thirty-two skilled workers, the technical rapid response team of the shipyard. Pavel A. Cherenkov of the Rozhdestvensky Corporation was leading a similar team; they were taking care of the reactor, the vessel’s power source.

The ‘Zolotoy Rog’ was a big ship – for what originally had been meant to be the equivalent of a light cruiser. But several modifications had been implemented during the construction phase. The most striking one were the ship-to-ship missile launchers installed in place of the two rearward gun turrets. The missiles were controlled by radio. Vershinin thought radio was susceptible of jamming, but the sailors said this wouldn’t happen. One had frequency hopping integrated, that couldn’t be cracked. One such missile could sink a battleship or an aircraft carrier; it had been checked by experiment.

The Baltic Sea in summer was a beautiful pond. There were hobby sailing ships en masse, motor yachts, ferries, freighters – and men of war. Kapitán pervoyevo ránga Yashin, the ship’s master, said that ‘Zolotoy Rog’ was sticking out like a sore thumb.
“There’s no hiding for us. They all know what we are. – And it really doesn’t matter. We – and everyone and his dog – have tracked the journey of SMS Schlettstadt. It didn’t stop the Germans from doing what they did. And we’ll just keep going and reeling our test programme off.”

The ‘Zolotoy Rog’ wouldn’t return to Kronstadt, her final destination was Vladivostok. The Baltic was like a trap for the Imperial Russian Navy. Vershinin knew of advanced plans to construct huge nuclear powered ice-breakers, once ‘Zolotoy Rog’ had stood the test. They could keep the port of Arkhangelsk open all year round. That would provide Russia free access to the high seas. As long as Murmansk and Polyarny were still lost, this was a good solution.

With nuclear driven ice-breakers, one could also keep open Okhotsk and Magadan in Far East over the winter. That would multiply Russia’s opportunities considerably. As a matter of fact, Vladivostok and Nakhodka were confined by Japan just like the blasted Baltic neighbours were confining Kronstadt and Pitter. Yeah, Russia’s geographic position was less than favourable regarding access to the high seas. – But nuclear powered vessels would improve her situation crucially. They didn’t need refuelling, only aliment and – in case of war – ammunition had to be replenished from time to time.

However, unlimited power was also enabling unrestricted use of refrigerators and freezer cabinets. Therefore, the foodstuffs issue was probably moot. And the capacity of ships to carry along ammunition was not to be underrated. The size of the ‘Zolotoy Rog’ had also increased because of the additional storage facilities enabled by new technology. – Only women were missing. Vershinin had asked Nina, his wife, to come to Vladivostok – in six months… Until then, one would test ‘Zolotoy Rog’ and see the world…

[FONT=&quot]“Attention, we’re approaching the Sound and Copenhagen.” announced the officer of the watch via loudspeaker. “All hands ahoy! Man stations.” [/FONT]
 
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rast

The jackal may follow the tiger, but, cub, when thy whiskers are grown, remember the wolf is a hunter – go forth and get food of thine own.
(Rudyard Kipling)

The preparations for the cleansing operation were proceeding racily. Once I.T.A., as he generally was called, had understood what was demanded from him, he was doing his best to get things done. It was a matter of diligent planning – and coordination. Oliver Law didn’t intend to fight a bloody battle, actually he didn’t want to fight at all. It was a matter of playing hare and hedgehog. One had to push the Limeys off balance – and then just keep pushing…

The navy dudes had been keen to get involved. They wanted to test their frigging subs. But that wasn’t a good idea. The two or three destroyers the English were operating in the neighbourhood were the fall back position for the troops on land. If they were sunk, the Tommies would be forced to fight to the hilt. No, leave the vessels alone, let the troopers board the ships, and let them all escape. Sinking them with all soldiers on board would only create bad feelings and a cry for revenge.

One wanted the Limeys to leave. Nothing more was intended. – It wouldn’t be a cakewalk, the Tommies were quite tough when it came to standing their ground. Nevertheless, Law thought he knew how to dupe them. Their system didn’t favour individual initiative. They were drilled to obey orders, without asking any questions. With I.T.A. sitting inside their apparatus, however, one could undertake to give them the complete run-around.

[FONT=&quot]Law had been in combat with them in the jungle. They were tough but trite. And they would follow orders. It would be I.T.A.’s job to get the commando in. Once the HQ had been taken over, the Limeys wouldn’t pose a problem anymore. One would fight an imaginary battle, where they had to fall back step by step – until ordered to board the ships. And then, I.T.A. would come marching in with the Freetown brass band and bid them goodbye. [/FONT]
 

rast

It is far easier to see a brave man die than to hear a coward beg for his life.
(Jack London)

Of course, I.T.A. did botch it. The commando was wiped out, however, the English HQ was devastated as well. Thus, there was no continuous flow of orders to the troops on the ground, actually, the HQ dropped out completely. Individual units, aware that something must be going on, but unaware what exactly had happened, just remained where they were – and prepared for the worst.

General Oliver Law had to take a decision: abort or carry on? Aborting was easy as no own troops had yet been committed – except the commando already lost. But undoubtedly, I.T.A. was compromised now – and no other favourable opportunity would be on the horizon any time soon. The English were lacking a coherent overall command, although local commanders were quite unimpaired.

His forces were strong enough to overcome the enemy. But it would be a bloody affair. The English could be trusted to die fighting. The Freetown Peninsula and the city itself would be destroyed. Countless civilians, caught between a rock and a hard place, would perish. – The peninsula was the centrepiece of Sierra Leone. Laying waste to it would seriously degrade the country.

But not acting would perpetuate English rule. And General von Bauer had tasked him to liberate Sierra Leone from their yoke. – Thus, he ordered his forces forward.

It became the slaughter Law had anticipated. Out of the blue, two English cruisers reinforced the three destroyers on duty; and the naval task force remorselessly were shelling the terrain where his reinforcements had to pass. After two days, it was over. – Freetown was in ruins, the peninsula ravaged, the English dead.

Out of the wreckage came crawling I.T.A. Wallace-Johnson. He was alive and kicking, only slightly bruised and ruffled. His wife had been killed, his residence and his mansion were demolished. But I.T.A. was exuding optimism. Sometimes, freedom had to be carved out in blood and mud. Ruins could be rebuilt. Sierra Leone was free, and that was what counted.
 

Expat

Honestly, the colonies the British aren't able to exploit for resources are just potential future embarrassments at this point. They should really bug out of everywhere but Nigeria and Canada and anywhere else with a favorable balance sheet.
 

Bmao

Expat said:
Honestly, the colonies the British aren't able to exploit for resources are just potential future embarrassments at this point. They should really bug out of everywhere but Nigeria and Canada and anywhere else with a favorable balance sheet.
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Call me crazy, but both WestAfrika and Mittelafrika might decide to maintain British Nigeria, or more likely an independent Nigeria to act as a Buffer State between them, as otherwise its huge oil resources makes it a potential flashpoint for conflict between the two leading African states.
 

Expat

Bmao said:
Call me crazy, but both WestAfrika and Mittelafrika might decide to maintain British Nigeria, or more likely an independent Nigeria to act as a Buffer State between them, as otherwise its huge oil resources makes it a potential flashpoint for conflict between the two leading African states.
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I don't think Nigeria borders the Protectorate, just MA on both sides and the Sahel state to the north (which may have already taken the north of the country?)

But you're right that MA doesn't want to annex anything. Only the Protectorate does. Nigeria is definitely a place worth hanging onto for the Brits.
 

rast

Power has only one duty – to secure the social welfare of the People.
(Benjamin Disraeli)

It was unfortunate, most unfortunate: he had removed the Bevin cabinet and their chief supporters on the indictment of utter weakness. But, during the first eight months of his tenure, the The Gambia had been overrun by Ala Ka Kuma, Canada had refused his emissary, and the Freetown Crown Colony had just wiped out the British garrison and declared independence. Didn’t these events show his weakness, the same kind of despicable weakness he had accused in Bevin and his retinue? – Prime Minister Rajani Palme Dutt was seriously alarmed. Retention of power seemed in peril. His enemies – and he knew they were quite numerous – might strike any time soon.

Even Tom Wintringham, one of his closest confidants, disenchanted by being refused to enter Canada, might turn against him – and side with his enemies. And other former supporters, latterly convinced of his weakness, might do the same. It was unsettling. – Rajani Palme Dutt was a radical, because he sincerely believed only radical solutions could improve the lot of the people. But he was not a bloodthirsty tyrant; he didn’t want to run a terror regime. He wanted social improvement and education to true communism. – But how could he achieve this aim when taken for a wimp – and eventually being chased away like a toothless tiger?

David Kirkwood, the MI5 chief, still loyal, hopefully, kept telling him the mood of the party members was faltering. They didn’t know about the Canadian miscue, fortunately, but they had registered failure in West Africa – and they weren’t seeing improvements at home. Many public figures, once popular, had vanished since transition of power, without having been replaced by imposing new persons. – Something had to happen, or the mood would tip over entirely.

Now, Palme Dutt had read all the papers produced by Westminster, MI6 and MI5. Neither The Gambia nor Sierra Leone were indispensable for Britain. Their loss could be borne. Even the Gold Coast, where agents of the Bauer Protectorate were agitating, wasn’t essential. – Beyond that, the Bauer Protectorate couldn’t do any damage. – Middle Africa, the really dangerous power on the continent, wasn’t interested in expansion. As long as they weren’t provoked, they would remain impassive. Therefore, Nigeria, Kenya and Uganda could be considered safe – for the time being.

Max von Bauer, on the other hand, was a veteran of the Great War, a Prussian Junker, an enemy of the working class. It was assumed that he bore a grudge against Britain ever since the war. He, most probably, would try to incorporate all British possessions in West Africa into his sphere of influence. – One might target von Bauer. That should effectively stall all schemes of expansion. – But it wouldn’t solve the basic problem.

The basic problem for Palme Dutt was lack of approval in the SUP and the British public in general. The attempt to install himself as comrade-in-arms and heir of Sir Oswald had failed. And he had also failed as guardian of the British Empire… – What remained was force. How else could he preserve his power? A purge had to remove all those who were beset by doubts. It would be terror, admitted, objectionable terror; but what other alternative did he have?

He called Kirkwood, told him to organise a thorough party purge. Tom Wintringham was the first to be accused of crypto-Churchillianism. The whole conspiracy had to be smashed relentlessly and with an iron hand. MI5 should tap on the military. They could build new camps and provide guards. Kirkwood didn’t flinch. Yes, it could be done. He needed one week to prepare everything. Would the armed forces be subordinated under MI5? Sure, it was the reasonable thing to do. But only once everything was ready, not beforehand. The soldiers were a huge gossip club. Kirkwood bowed and left.

He called Jean Beauchamp, the MI6 chief. She had served already under Bevin. But he knew the woman; she was reliable. He told her to add Max von Bauer to the target list, but not to add him at the bottom of the list. No, he has top priority. – And how was she getting along with the Edith Rowley job? – Not well, it was extremely difficult. The Yanks were very watchful, and Rowley’s MI5 was loyal to her. But one was still working to overcome the problems.

All things arranged and alone again, Rajani Palme Dutt reclined in his chair and wept. Damn, it were the prudent things to do, but he felt like a knave. – Yet, who else could save Britain from decline? It was his duty to persevere. The future was to prove he was right.
 

Expat

Yowza!

Well, the thin silver lining is that the chaos caused by this repression will be another chance for Britain to snap its unlucky streak.:(

And his two assassination targets are also questionable ideas. Canada remaining tied to Britain with a hostile US on her border is an extraordinary event that is likely to secure Rowley the title of the most amazing administrator of the 20th century (well, possibly #2 behind Bauer.) She would have to be removed and replaced without the slightest appearance of unrest, and one can bet that Canada has been thoroughly infiltrated by US spies at this point. Any change in policy in Canada will create disorder that the US has been primed to exploit for decades.

And killing Bauer just puts [FONT=&quot]G’Norebbe in charge. No reason for him to change Protectorate policy regarding expansion that I can see.
[/FONT]
 

Bmao

Expat said:
Yowza!

Well, the thin silver lining is that the chaos caused by this repression will be another chance for Britain to snap its unlucky streak.:(

And his two assassination targets are also questionable ideas. Canada remaining tied to Britain with a hostile US on her border is an extraordinary event that is likely to secure Rowley the title of the most amazing administrator of the 20th century (well, possibly #2 behind Bauer.) She would have to be removed and replaced without the slightest appearance of unrest, and one can bet that Canada has been thoroughly infiltrated by US spies at this point. Any change in policy in Canada will create disorder that the US has been primed to exploit for decades.

And killing Bauer just puts [FONT=&quot]G’Norebbe in charge. No reason for him to change Protectorate policy regarding expansion that I can see.
[/FONT]
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However, with G'Norebbe in charge, he's the same man responsible for leading the coup in Middle Africa, which will further deteriorate relations between West Africa and Middle Africa. The US also still has bitter memories over what G'Norebbe did to US interests in the 30s, so they too could have a bone to pick with them.

G'Norebbe in charge of West Africa could potentially put a very strange conflation of interests - Middle Africa, the US and Communist England all on the same side.:D:eek:

While not an alliance per se, its still a rather odd conflagration.

As for Canada, if the British are stupid enough to remove Rowley, who as Expat mentioned required an almost godlike administrative skill to keep the current status quo, the US will pounce faster than you can say dollar.
 

Expat

Bmao said:
However, with G'Norebbe in charge, he's the same man responsible for leading the coup in Middle Africa, which will further deteriorate relations between West Africa and Middle Africa. The US also still has bitter memories over what G'Norebbe did to US interests in the 30s, so they too could have a bone to pick with them.

G'Norebbe in charge of West Africa could potentially put a very strange conflation of interests - Middle Africa, the US and Communist England all on the same side.:D:eek:

While not an alliance per se, its still a rather odd conflagration.
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I'm sure there will be no shortage of opinions within the US if G'Norebbe takes the throne.:D

But the US has gone a long way to make up ground in the Protectorate; it's one of their real diplomatic success stories in recent decades, and it's been achieved without any of the uncomfortable entanglements present with China or northern Latin America.

I would say that if MA is willing to become friends with the US upon G'Norebbe's accession, perhaps the US will be willing to throw the Protectorate under the bus. But I don't know how likely that is.

More likely, the US (who has apologized to MA, and its former citizens residing in the Protectorate) asks G'Norebbe to continue cooperation between the two countries, as long as G'Norebbe's willing to admit his problem was with the old regime and not the post-Chicago USA. A further stipulation or point of negotiation that seems likely would be for G'Norebbe to get the Venezuelans to sit in a room with the Yankees and stop being the leading anti-American nation in the Western Hemisphere.

After all, Canada (and the British Caribbean) is almost certainly the biggest deal in US foreign policy terms. The enemy of my enemy, and all that...

And, for another example of bygones being bygones as far as the McAdoo years go, the war with Mexico hasn't prevented improving relations in that quarter.

But if MA takes this opportunity to really court the US, then maybe the US will think it's worth it. But I don't see MA getting palsy all of a sudden.
 

rast

Diplomacy is the art of saying ‘Nice doggie’ until you can find a rock.
(Will Rogers)

The ceremonies and festivities accompanying the act of Sierra Leone joining the West African Union had been long and exhausting. Considering, however, that the affiliation of SL practically stood for the foundation of the WAU, the whole charade certainly had had some justification. With only two signatures, the erstwhile Bauer Protectorate suddenly had turned into the WAU. – Nevertheless, it had been exhausting – and Asa Philip Randolph, as foreign minister of the Protectorate always forced to fidget in the centre of cheer, had decided he needed some respite. Going fishing over the weekend on the Diani River seemed like a good idea.

He owned a small motor yacht, a beautiful wooden twenty-five feet boat made in Sweden. Taking her up river for some miles and enjoying nature without people and family was what he had in mind, when he strolled down to the marina. That – on the boat bridge – he ran into Raphael O’Hara Lanier was not part of the plan, at least of his plan… The US ambassador, who must not be called ambassador, was also dressed for leisure.
“Hi, Asa, nice to meet you. – Fed up with all those bashes as well? I’m going for some sea angling. You too?” Lanier pointed to a powerful yacht.
“Hi, Rafe. No, I’ll stay on the river. I just need a quiet corner, no excitement, no swell…” Randolph pointed to his little yacht, which looked like a dinghy of Lanier’s vessel.

“Well, then… – But, Asa, tell me, is it true that you’re honeycombing Gold Coast and the Ashanti Territories?”
Randolph stopped cold, took a deep breath – and smiled.
“No, we’re not. The Old Man is true to his word. – But, the process has taken on a life of its own, in a way. We stopped subversion, but that hasn’t stopped discussion over there. – I mean, they can see what’s going on here. And on their other side, there’s Groß Togoland. We here use English as business language – and we’re much like what the US was in the last century: a melting pot, the land of opportunity. Can’t fault them for being attracted… Even some of their chiefs see that the English way leads to nowhere. You have Groß Togoland bristling with modern technology, and us doing the same – and then, there’s the Gold Coast in between, underdeveloped and uneducated.”

“Thanks for the clarification, Asa. – Well, it’s not that we support any communist exploitation. I just wanted to know where you stand in this affair.”
“The Old Man will welcome everyone who wants to join us. But we’ll not force anybody to do it. – That’s still our official line, quite unchanged…”
“Yeah, sure, and it’s a policy the US can agree to. But you know, there are rumours…”
“There always are rumours. And when you’re dealing with Perfidious Albion, rumours may suddenly turn into accusations and unholy plots. Remember how you and Middle Africa were instigated against one another…”
“Oh boy! That dark spot…”

“So, good we met – and I could clarify things. – By the way: has the President ever considered visiting the West African Union?”
“Gee, no! I’m not even allowed to be a proper ambassador. We’re doing business, true, but it’s all kind of fraught, the Harper Massacre, the treatment of prisoners…”
“Well, think about it. – The Old Man would issue an invitation, if he knew it wasn’t rejected. The US has been a reliable partner in the Sierra Leone affair. Many of our citizens come from the US. I don’t think President Patton would be pelted with cake here. The new US is quite popular among our people.”

“But there’s Field Marshal G’Norebbe. He’s second in command – and the Old Man’s named successor. He’s a sworn enemy of the US, has been president of Venezuela, that snake pit…”
Randolph smiled.
“Goodness! It’s hard to keep him from growling when the US is mentioned, but he just remembers the US he was fighting in these days. – In my mind, he wouldn’t object to a state visit by President Patton. He’s well aware that things have changed considerably. I mean, he’s no dumb bully… – And, by the way, Patton and the Old Man will look very much like twins, both old, bald and haggard. Will produce great pictures…”
 
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Expat

Just what the papers love to print: pictures of bald, haggard men.:D:D

Could be a good chance to normalize relations, especially now that the "protectorate" is identifying as a Union; all the trappings of a true nation.
 
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