As a young man Frank excelled in cricket, rugger, rowing, tennis and towel flicking.

Today we bring you something special from our scribe from the near North -West Frontier.

For those amongst our readership who’ve ever had a problem with deadlines, this-un pretty much sums it up.

Curiously it comes from the BOP. For those of us who wished they could have been first ‘over the top” the BOP (Boys Own Paper) was just the stuff of Empire to inspire derring-do and sacrifice.

We, (the editorial department of pcbycp) think that perhaps it was a diet of old BOP’s, ‘Chums’, and the ‘Empire Book for Boys’, that may have inspired Zac Rolfe to do his duty on the North-West Frontier.

Hopelessly ineligible males could woo fabulously attractive women if they did their bit. (BOP)

One can only hope so…..

The title of this Sunday’s poem is; ‘He had a year to do it in”, and tellingly it comes to us from the distant days of early 1915 and must have inspired the first division of Anzac troops in gaining a foothold on the Dardanelles, and then not doing much for the next year. We, (the editorial department) reject the notion that wars and ‘Anzackery’ are fruitless, as those who return unmaimed, with limbs intact or not quite dead, can sport wonderful medals to impress the public and cower those shirkers who don’t do their bit. 

He Had A Year To Do It In

Stirring scenes like these inspired Zac to do his bit on the Northwest frontier.

He had a year to do it in
So brushed the thought away,
A chap with half his energy
Might do it in a day.
A year! ‘Twas too ridiculous,
As everyone should find;
However, he would get it done
And have it off his mind.

But not today. A few months hence would suit him better still;
Meanwhile, a far less irksome job
Might occupy his skill.
He would not let the matter pass
Entirely from him, No;
And doubtless he might take it up
In, say a month or so.

He had six months to do it in!
For six long months had flown;
Well, why should that alarm a chap
With talents like his own?
The job, whence once embarked upon,
Would soon be rattled through;
However, he would think of it,
In, say, a week or two.

Frying Spam, a highlight for those who enjoyed derring-do and a bit of towel flicking.

He had three months to do it in!
“Oh brother!” was his cry;
The thing hangs on me like a weight,
Each day that passes by.
Let’s see: three months? Ah, that’s enough,
But, just to clear the doubt,
Make arrangements for a start
Before the month is out.

He had a week to do it in!
And care was in his glance.
“It’s hard,” he cried, “that flight of time,
Won’t give a chap a chance!”
He still delayed, the swift week passed,
As weeks will ever run,
And though a year was given him,
The task was still undone.

John Lea in Boys Own Paper (Volume 37 Issue 3, January 1915)

Which is the reason I won’t tell you that printing of My Yuendumu Story continued is half a year away.

In olden days one had to wrestle with the floor rug.

FDB