Word: briton
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...dream is Nigerian independence. He would like to see it come in a 15-Year Plan: ten years of equal British-Nigerian government, then five years of Nigerian government with Britain standing by. Next to that he wants the country developed industrially. He doubts that the present-day Briton will do it. "The type of Britons who come . . . now," he says, "are not as intelligent as those who came before. Either we have progressed or they have degenerated...
...Tell you how I look at it," said a U.S. radio commentator-thoroughly hep to his country's new position in the world-to a recently visiting Briton. "Guam is our chief base in the Pacific, and naturally we don't expect Guam to be selfsupporting. Now England, you see, is our chief base in Europe, and of course we've got to carry it-just like Guam...
Agreement to Disunite. Far away from the Jumna's banks, in the quiet atmosphere of London's No. 10 Downing St., a Briton who had striven desperately to save Mother India from vivisection reluctantly prepared the operating table. Rear Admiral Viscount Mountbatten of Burma, Viceroy of India, laid before the full British Cabinet his plan for handing over British power to Indians. The knotty question was, what power to which Indians? Every Indian leader except Mohandas Gandhi had agreed that they could not unite, but could not agree how to disunite...
What do they do on a rainy day in Britain? Last week, the cables of the Associated Press were humming with the news. They play hink pink. How? Well, one Briton says to another, "Hink pink, convict?" If the other is quick on the trigger, he answers smartly: "Bad lad!" "Hink pink, sculpture," might draw the reply: "Bust trust." For advanced players the game can run into two syllables. Samples: "Hinky pinky, Palestine." Answer: "Skittish British." Possible, but inadvisable except for postgraduates, is the three-syllable challenge: "Hinkitty pinkitty, no more Molotov." The answer would, of course, be: "Bevinly Heavenly...
Hark, Hark, the Lark. For the more dignified, there were such things as the sonnet-writing contests held regularly in the home of Ford Madox Ford-a lively old Briton who loved to reminisce about his experiences in World War I. "It was in No Man's Land," Ford would say reflectively: "We were making a night attack. I had gone ahead to reconnoiter. I was crawling along on my-er-stomach when suddenly, above the roar of battle, I heard a sound-it was larks singing. Then I looked up and saw that it was light...