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Beirut has long been ignored by the tourist industry, but for the left-wing adventurous, it offers a host of opportunities. Sahara Beach 006 reports.
Professor H., one of our men in France, has known no rest since the
Leader's call for the crushing of the effeminate Gaul, bedmate of the
buggering Finn, reached him in his Paris dacha hideout. Professor H., a
notorious pedagogue wanted by anti-Revolutionary forces, successfully
infiltrated the education system, and has already got to setting the
impressionable youth entrusted to his care onto the righteous path of the
onward-marching Fist. The study of Racine, Rousseau and other such French
faffery has been wiped clean from the syllabus- students now
enthusiastically undertake exegesis of 'Le Poing Matinal', smuggled into
the country by specially trained geese, and they vie with one another in
producing philosophical proofs of the Leader's omniscience and
imperturbability, in Greek. Or Sankskrit. Students are encouraged
spontaneously to sing the praises of the Leader in complex verse-forms,
and those proffering unworthy contributions are bullied ruthlessly by
their peers. The Revolution has spread even into the humble school
canteen, where students sniff at boeuf bourguignone and
such bland fare, and fast until their demands for
genetically-revolutionised Leader chunks and tripe products are satisfied.
Rather than returning to the warm hearth of the family home at the day's
end, they opt to attend training camps, where they learn to cock a snook
at the Finn and his sleazy pals.
Similar units are already in operation throughout this bastard land, which
our gracious Leader has mercifully adjudged not beyond help. From such
small seeds as those planted by Professor H. will one day grow a mighty
oak of Justice to shower the reactionary infidel with acorns of