Written in 1919 but published in 1920, the year my father was born. Today, as Christmas fast approaches, one word stands out for me from WBY’s iconic poem, these last few days: BETHLEHEM!

“And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,   Slouches towards BETHLEHEM to be born?

I believe that the Rough Beast arrived in Bethlehem a few weeks ago! A premature birth, so it could be ready to mock, and challenge, the Prince of Peace’s birthday on the 25th. A freakish blood-sucking monster, hell-bent on consummating the Zionist nightmare of 1948.

And sadly, nay, tragically, there will be plenty of Christians, ‘eyeless in Gaza’, this Christmas who will still sing ‘ O little town of Bethlehem, How still we see Thee lie,’ oblivious of the Rough Beast patrolling her ‘dark streets’ searching for more innocent victims.