There was death and gore,
During the second world war.
Many people died in extreme violence,
Killed before they could call out to loved ones.
Young men were trained to ****,
Often against their morals and will.
So when I see your 1940s weekend -
Your 'war was fun and cosy' pretence,
Your clichéd polyester and fibre glass mockery,
Aiming to re-enact a mostly imagined happy-go-lucky camaraderie -
Forgive me for not joining in,
As I happen to feel it a cardinal sin,
To idealise and romanticise a decade,
Made up of austerity, rationing and air raids.
I've read a little social history,
The 1940s were not idyllic or crime-free,
Just as now, there were heroes and villains,
Among the soldiers and civilians.
Heroism abounded but so did black marketeering,
There were brave sacrifices but also racketeering.
City-wide black-outs were a gift,
To those who would rob and grift.
Your jolly nostalgic tribute is an annual celebration,
Celebrating your own fabrication,
Of a time when the machinations of war and a crazed ideology,
Saw the near extinction of an entire ethnic minority.
I do not wish to be a party pooper,
But don't just step into the fake shoes of a fictional trooper,
Please occasionally remove your rose-tinted glasses,
To remember that beyond your nostalgic narrative of the routines of the masses,
People lived with the daily fear,
Of the likely deaths of people they held dear.
A little bitter and exaggerated perhaps.