I wrote this short gobbet for my regular London Evening Standard column on December 27. My editor there spiked it, I can only assume out of some knee-jerky patriotism that was banging around her brain. Nothing commands English attitudes more than the great, dying, effete behemoth that was Edwardian British Imperialism. I forgot about my gobbet for a couple of weeks, until the news that some new gang of idiots were traipsing off across Antarctica, valiantly “man-hauling” their equipment. So, in a spirit of futility, I’d like to share it with you:
“Many commiserations are due to the four-man Polar Quest team who have become the first British military expedition to reach the South Pole since Captain Scott’s men in 1912. The plan is for the combined Royal Navy and Marines personnel to hold a small remembrance service at the Pole, in honour of their fallen hero, before hauling their 20-stone sledges back to the Patriot Hills on the perimeter of the continent. But if they really want to succeed in emulating Scott, there’s only one course open to them: holing up in a tent, in a blizzard, while starving and freezing to death. When it comes to replicating one of the great, incompetent follies of British imperialism, their colleagues in the RAF Southern Reach team, have already outperformed Polar Quest by not getting to the Pole at all. These icy airmen should feel nothing but stupefying pride at their heroic — and very British — feat of failure.”