It was September 1945. The war in Europe was over. I had spent the previous two years chasing all over France and Germany with the 28th Infantry Division.

In the late 1980s, the esteemed humorist and editor William Cole presented the following dicta—in three installments—to his teenage sons Williams and Rossa. 

Never wear those visor-hats with advertising messages on them. Especially those that consist of visor only. Very tacky.


Don’t tip back on chairs, especially straight chairs or those with rickety legs. They could break apart and embarrass you and cost the owners time and money.

DON’T spit in the street. If you MUST spit, do it into a tissue; discreetly. Or make sure nobody is looking at you, especially women, and spit in the gutter.

It would be too much of a generality to say that the smaller the country, the nice the people. But it is a truth that of the eight European countries I was in during the war, the nicest people by far were those in Wales and Luxembourg.

Pops. Look at you there with your long billy-goat scruff.