‘Rapist! Fascist!’ Jesus, how she screamed.
A pity that you missed it – made the day.
Haircut like a scrubbing brush – black jeans –
a fire inside her – should have seen the way
she zeroed in on Nobby – eye to eye.
That fogged the old goat’s glasses. Harry tried
explaining who we were, that rapes were rare
in eighteen thousand feet of flak and rain –
as if facts mattered, silly sod. You’ll see
the whole thing later on the evening news.
She waited for the cameras, screamed again
then re-strafed Nob for Channel Nine. It stirred
some people up but Nobby shambled on –
a quiet man – but then most chaplains were.