Just back from Blighty where the traces of race attacks seem to be acceptable... the poor drummer boy who was attacked by a mad man with a machete has a huge shrine all around the barracks in Woolwich (a garrison town) which some might interpret as a red rag to a bull; one poor chap subsequently murdered at side of the bakers opposite Woolwich dockyard has nothing like the scale for his shrine, but the trophies are clearly heartfelt.
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