AS IT WAS.

When I was a child I was sure who the good guys
And the bad guys were:

The cavalry always arriving at the very last minute,
Regardless of the limits of the tale,
In order to rescue a crowd of hapless cowboys
From a bunch
Of half drunk
And half naked invaders;

A squad of brave, but clueless, British troops
Attempting to take the last bridge
From a brigade of Germans,
Who always made you squirm
Regardless of the ideology on their collars,
And failing even more courageously than the last lot;

An insubordinate Detective
Stalking the streets of a West coast city
With a canon in hand,
And the righteousness of the damned at his command,
And against the wishes of his bosses
Crippling the crook only to be booked himself,

And a knight in the finest shining armour,
With feather on his helmet,
Riding to set
The world straight and despatch
Whichever black suited brute
Just happened to be terrorising the town that day.

These were the stories a more ideal time.
Or maybe not;
Maybe they were just the back lane games
Of six year old kids.