So, here’s my plan:
let’s fight all wars with old men now.
At the point diplomacy breaks down,
let a battlefield be agreed on,
and liberally strewn with porta-potties.
Let fleets of rascal scooters gather,
and warm slippered warriors dismount to face each other
waving canes and shouting: “Goddamsonsabitches!”
or some such equivalent,
dentures aggressively rattling, spittle spraying.
Let the troops charge slowly,
oh, so very slowly,
high on prune juice and nostalgia
to viciously jostle the enemy, and shake fists at them
until soup is served and noisily slurped half way through.
Let the cessation of hostilities be signalled
by the playing of the I Love Lucy theme tune
and an old, old guy in a cowboy hat saying:
“I love the smell of Werther’s in the morning …”

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Andrew Urquhart is originally from Glasgow but has lived in the Scottish Highlands for most of his life now. He has taught English and Scottish literature for many years. He writes poems and stories in both English and Scots and has most recently had work published, in the award nominated pamphlet, “Mair Northern Nummers,” and in magazines such as Lallans, Eemis Stane, Allegro, Dreich, and Clarion.