Always smiling, willing to turn up at prresentation ceremonies at all hours of the day or night and to shake hands (next he'll be cuddling babies) with anyone willing to give him something for nothing. Never asking, sorry giving, anything in return and having the dignty to wait until the Eurostar has pulled ut of St Pancras before opening the first packet and eating them all himself.
The act is highly symbolic - a nation on it's knees, without the arse in its' trousers, scrambling together to raise a few bob to send to those "less fortunate" who had to go overseas in the hope of bettering themselves. And them fuckers having the life of Reilly, at dinner parties, theatres and Irish clubs every night of the week and writing home less than once a month.
Like the 50's but not the 50's if you know what I mean.
