It's disaster after disaster
Page 18
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AS I listened to a radio programme on the experiences of prisoners of war — their fear, their hopelessness, their hunger — I could hear the echo of Government assurances that British industry would emerge from the slump leaner and fitter. These euphemisms for emaciated and debilitated, like the prisoners when they were released in 1945, will fool no one.
The point had been sharpened earlier that day when I met an old friend after an interval of a couple of years. He had always exuded pink-faced cheer and could be relied upon for entertaining Hawk fodder. "What have you heard or see that's funny?" I asked brightly.
He studied the ground, grey chin between thumb and forefinger. "The haulage industry is in such a disastrous mess that there's nothing left ti laugh at," he replied flatly..
"And last week I was in a head-on collision. I had a lot on my mind and — you'll never believe this — I went round a roundabout the wrong way.
"Perhaps you can make something funny out of that," added wryly.