Journal of the Plague Year

continued, by a Gentleman

Once more the beaſtlie French are muddying our Wives and ſqueezing the Breath from our Gates, perfidiouſly ſeeking to ſubvert our invincible maritime Supremacy by diſpatching ſwarming Hordes of Turks to rape our Grandmothers and give to Fire and Sword our ſilken Undergarments. I have it from a moſt reliable Source at the Admiralty, that the benighted and barbarick Mussulmans are croſsing the Channel by the Dozen, frequently afloat upon no more than the inflated Bladders of their leſs fortunate Countrymen, or a pneumatick Odaliſque. Yet deſpite ſuch primitive Veſsels they conſtitute a Terror and a Peril to our gallant Fiſhermen, who flee ſcreaming from the unhallowed Spectacle with the very Lice tumbling dead in ſtark Horror out of their whitening Beards. Not a Whit leſs than the full and entire Reſources of the Royal Navy will be required to purge this rank Criminality from the Waters of the Empire. And in this ſimple Fact lies the very Fiendiſhneſs and Perfidiouſneſs of the ſcheming French; for what better Moment to attempt a ſneaking Attack upon our Shores than when our invincible Seamen are buſy ſplattering the Heathen with Chriſtian Spunk? There is no denying the Vulnerability of our Coaſtline in the Wake of the Woo Han Peſtilence, when even now Her Majeſty's Government is toſsed upon the furious Horns of a great Dilemma, being forced to the terrible moral Choice of whether to open the Publick-houſes or to re-commence Child Labour. Aſsuredly it is a moſt griſly Taſk, the like of which no true and ſtalwart Briton ſhould ever be compelled to undertake. Why, one might with equal Fairneſs demand that an able Seaman chooſe between his Grog and his Cabin-boy.