Two Thousand Twenty-Six

William Hogarth, Gin Lane (1751). "Drunk for a penny. Dead drunk for tuppence."

And must no egg in Japhet's face be thrown,

Because the deed he forg’d was not my own?

Must never Patriot then declaim at Gin,

Unless, good man! he has been fairly in?

—Alexander Pope, One Thousand Seven Hundred and Thirty-Eight. A Dialogue Something Like Horace, 2.189–92

In what age would you choose to live, if not in this?

Consider only anno Domini 1738,

Which Mr. Pope thought not all that great.

Its dentists, clearly, you’d best give a miss!

Its priests, insisting on the Real Presence

In flour paste and plonk kept down the peasants,

Or if they contrariwise called it allegorical,

Screwed them nonetheless—it’s all historical.

And speak not of the old-time ruling class

Who, when not murdering, acted out a farce!

We now dilute our gin with orange juice or tonic;

Our views of Incarnation have become ironic.

Although our leaders seem too fond of war,

They're mostly fonder yet of what's called jaw-jaw.

All hail, then, anno Two Thousand Twenty-Six,

Albeit Japhet’s eggy mug adorns the mix.

Thursday 12 February 2026