Peace, Kent.
Come not between
the dragon and his wrath.
Peace, Kent.
Kyiv no longer.
Looks like a city at war.
In the way that.
It was three years ago.
The shops are open.
And commuters get delayed.
In traffic jams.
On their way to work.
But in the days.
Since 12 February this year.
When the US President.
When the US President.
Rang ‘the One’ to send.
A 90-minute political embrace.
From the White House.
To the Kremlin.
2022’s old.
Nightmares of.
National extinction.
Have returned.
’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
‘Elves’ used to get angry.
About the way that.
The former US President.
Held back weapons systems.
And restricted the way.
Ukraine used the ones.
That arrived here.
Even so, they knew.
Even so, they knew.
Whose side he was on.
Even so, they knew.
Whose side he was on.
‘And how exactly like an egg
he is!’ she said aloud,
standing with her hands ready
to catch him,
standing with her hands ready
to catch him,
for she was every moment
expecting him to fall.
Instead, the current.
US President has delivered.
A stream of exaggeration.
Half-truths and outright lies.
About the war.
That echo the views.
Of ‘the One’.
Of ‘the One’.
They include his dismissal.
Of ‘Gandalf the Green’.
As a dictator.
Who does not deserve.
A seat at the table.
When America and ‘Mordor’.
Decide the future.
Of his country.
The biggest lie the current.
US President has told.
Is that Ukraine.
Started the war.
Peace, Kent.
Come not between
the dragon and his wrath.
Peace, Kent.
The current US President’s.
Negotiating strategy is.
To offer concessions even before.
Serious talks have started.
Instead of putting pressure.
On the country that.
Broke international law.
By invading its neighbour.
Leading to huge destruction.
And hundreds of thousands.
Of dead and wounded.
He has turned on Ukraine.
His public statements.
Have offered ‘Mordor’.
Important concessions.
Declaring that Ukraine will.
Not join Nato and.
Accepting that it will.
Keep at least some of the land.
It seized by force.
The bow is bent and drawn,
make from the shaft.
The bow is bent and drawn,
make from the shaft.
‘The One’’s record shows.
He respects strength.
He regards concessions.
As a sign of weakness.
He has not budged.
From a demand for.
Even more ‘elves’ land.
Than his men now occupy.
Immediately after the first talks.
Held in Saudi Arabia.
Between ‘Mordor’ and the US.
Since the 2022 invasion.
‘The One’’s foreign minister.
Repeated his demand that.
No Nato troops.
Would be allowed.
No Nato troops.
Would be allowed.
Into Ukraine.
To provide security guarantees.
Peace, Kent.
Come not between
the dragon and his wrath.
Peace, Kent.
A veteran European diplomat.
Who has dealt with the ‘orcs’.
And the Americans said that.
When the grizzled.
Highly experienced.
‘The One’’s foreign minister.
Met the US President’s.
Novice Secretary of State.
“He would have eaten him.
Like a soft-boiled egg.”
“He would have eaten him.
Like a soft-boiled egg.”
‘And how exactly like an egg
he is!’ she said aloud,
standing with her hands ready
to catch him,
standing with her hands ready
to catch him,
for she was every moment
expecting him to fall.
A few days ago.
As the US President threw.
More insults.
At ‘Gandalf the Green’.
You went to the heavily guarded.
Government quarter.
In Kyiv.
To meet a man.
To meet a man.
Who is a senior adviser.
To ‘Gandalf the Green’.
And deputy head of his office.
The bow is bent and drawn,
make from the shaft.
The bow is bent and drawn,
make from the shaft.
The man acknowledged.
How much pressure.
The US President is.
Putting on them.
“It’s very, very tough.
These are very hard.
Challenging times.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“Now it’s easier than.
It was in 2022.
It’s like you live it.
All over again.”
Let it fall rather,
though the fork invade
The region of my heart:
The region of my heart:
He said ‘elves’ and.
Their president were.
As determined to fight.
To stay independent.
As they had been in 2022.
“We’re a sovereign country.
We are part of Europe.
And we will remain so.”
’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
In the weeks after.
‘The One’ ordered.
The full-scale invasion.
Of Ukraine.
The sound of battle.
On the edge of Kyiv.
Echoed around streets.
That were almost empty.
Checkpoints and barricades.
Walls of sandbags.
And tank traps welded.
From steel girders.
Were rushed out onto.
Kyiv’s broad boulevards.
At the railway station.
Fifty thousand civilians a day.
Mostly women and children.
Were boarding trains.
Going west.
Away from the ‘orcs’.
‘Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jujub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!’
The platforms were packed.
And every time.
And every time.
A train pulled in.
Came another surge.
Of panic.
As people pushed.
And shoved to get on.
In those freezing days.
In bitter wind.
And flurries of snow.
It felt as if.
The colours of the 21st century.
Were fading into.
An old monochrome newsreel.
An old monochrome newsreel.
That Europeans.
Had believed until then.
Was safely consigned to.
The vaults of history.
We’ll set thee to school
to an ant,
to teach thee there’s no labouring
i’ the winter.
‘Gandalf the Green’ in.
The former US President’s words.
“Didn’t want to hear”.
American warnings.
That an invasion was imminent.
‘The One’ rattling.
An ‘orcs’ sabre.
Was one thing.
A full-scale invasion.
With tens of thousands of troops.
And columns of armour.
Surely belonged in the past.
All that follow
their noses are
led by their eyes
but blind men;
‘The One’ believed.
‘Mordor’’s mighty and.
Modernised army would.
Make quick work.
Make quick work.
Of its obstinate.
Independent neighbour.
And its recalcitrant president.
and there’s not a nose
among twenty
but can smell him
that’s stinking.
‘Elves’ western allies.
Also thought ‘Mordor’.
Would win quickly.
Would win quickly.
On television news channels.
Retired generals talked.
About smuggling.
In light weapons.
To arm an insurgency.
While the west.
Imposed sanctions and.
Hoped for the best.
Let go thy hold when
a great wheel runs down a hill,
lest it break thy neck
with following it;
but the great one that
goes up the hill,
let him draw
thee after.
As ‘orcs’ troops massed.
On Ukraine’s borders.
Germany delivered 5,000.
Ballistic combat helmets.
Instead of offensive weapons.
The man, the mayor of Kyiv.
And once heavyweight boxing.
Champion of the world, complained.
That it was “a joke.
… What kind of support?
Will Germany send?
Next, pillows?”
When a wise man gives
thee better counsel,
give me mine again:
give me mine again:
I would have none
but knaves follow it,
since a fool gives it.
since a fool gives it.
‘Gandalf the Green’ turned down.
Any idea of leaving.
His capital to form.
A government in exile.
He abandoned.
His presidential dark suit.
For military attire.
And in videos.
And on social media.
Told ‘elves’.
He would fight.
Alongside them.
That which serves and seeks for gain,
And follows but for form,
Will pack when it begins to rain,
And leave thee in the storm.
But I will tarry; the fool will stay,
And let the wise man fly:
The knave turns fool that runs away;
The fool no knave, perdy.
Ukraine defeated.
Ukraine defeated.
The ‘orcs’ thrust.
Towards the capital.
Once the ‘elves’.
Had demonstrated that.
They could fight well.
They could fight well.
The attitude of.
The Americans and.
Europeans changed.
Arms supplies increased.
When a wise man gives
thee better counsel,
give me mine again:
give me mine again:
I would have none
but knaves follow it,
since a fool gives it.
since a fool gives it.
“‘The One’’s mistake was.
That he prepared for.
A parade.
Not a war.”
A senior ‘elf’ official recalled.
Speaking on condition.
Of anonymity.
“He didn’t think.”
“Ukraine would fight.
He thought they would be.
Welcomed with speeches.
And flowers.”
Let go thy hold when
a great wheel runs down a hill,
lest it break thy neck
with following it;
but the great one that
goes up the hill,
let him draw
thee after.
On 29 March 2022.
The ‘orcs’ retreated from Kyiv.
Hours after they left.
You drove, nervously.
Into the chaotic.
Damaged landscape.
Of Kyiv’s satellite towns.
Irpin, Bucha and Hostomel.
On the roads the ‘orcs’.
Had hoped to use.
For a triumphant entry.
Into Kyiv.
You saw bodies.
Of civilians.
Left where.
They were killed.
Charred tyres were stacked.
Around some of them.
Failed attempts to burn.
The evidence of war crimes.
Fortune, good night:
smile once more;
turn thy wheel!
turn thy wheel!
Survivors spoke.
Of the brutality.
Of the ‘orcs’ occupiers.
A woman showed you.
The grave where she had buried.
Her son single-handed.
After he was casually.
Shot dead as he crossed a road.
‘Orcs’ soldiers threw her.
Out of her house.
In the garden.
They left piles of.
Empty bottles of vodka.
Whisky and gin.
That they had looted.
And drunk.
Hastily abandoned.
‘Orcs’ encampments.
In the forests.
Near the roads.
Were choked with rubbish.
Their soldiers had discarded.
Over the weeks.
Of occupation.
Professional, disciplined armies.
Do not eat and sleep.
Next to rotting piles.
Of their own refuse.
Take vantage,
heavy eyes,
not to behold
This shameful lodging.
Fortune, good night:
smile once more;
turn thy wheel!
turn thy wheel!
Three years on.
The war has changed.
Although Kyiv.
Has revived.
It still has nightly alerts.
As its air defences.
Detect incoming ‘orcs’.
Missiles and drones.
The war is closer.
And more deadly.
Along the front line.
More than 1,000 kilometres long.
That runs from the northern.
Border with ‘Mordor’.
And then east.
And south down.
To the Black Sea.
It is lined with.
Destroyed, almost deserted.
Villages and towns.
To the east.
In what was Kyiv’s.
Industrial heartland.
Of Donetsk and Luhansk.
‘Orcs’ forces.
Grind forward slowly.
At a huge cost.
In men and machines.
Fortune, good night:
smile once more;
turn thy wheel!
turn thy wheel!
Last August.
Ukraine sent troops.
Into ‘Mordor’.
Capturing a pocket of land.
Across the border.
In Kursk.
They are still there.
Fighting for land.
That ‘Gandalf the Green’.
Hopes to use.
As a bargaining chip.
As a bargaining chip.
Take vantage,
heavy eyes,
not to behold
This shameful lodging.
Fortune, good night:
smile once more;
turn thy wheel!
turn thy wheel!
Along the border with Kursk.
In the snow-covered forests.
Of north-eastern Ukraine.
The geopolitical storm.
Set off by the US President.
Is still not.
Much more than.
A menacing, distant rumble.
Fortune, good night:
smile once more;
turn thy wheel!
turn thy wheel!
It will get here.
Especially if the US president.
Follows up his harsh.
And mocking verbal attacks.
On ‘Gandalf the Green’.
With a final end.
To military aid.
And intelligence-sharing.
And even worse.
From ‘elves’ perspective.
An attempt to impose.
A peace deal that favours ‘Mordor’.
Peace, Kent.
Come not between
the dragon and his wrath.
Peace, Kent.
For now, the rhythm.
Built up in three years.
Of war goes on.
And the forest.
And the forest.
Could be a throwback.
To the blood-soaked.
Twentieth century.
Fighting men move silently.
Through the trees.
Along trenches.
And into bunkers.
And into bunkers.
Dug deep into.
The frozen earth.
The frozen earth.
In stretches of open ground.
Anti-tank defences.
Made of concrete and.
Steel stud the fields.
’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
The 21st century is.
More present.
In the dry and warm.
Underground bunkers.
Generators and solar panels.
Power laptops and screens.
Linked to the outside world.
And bring in the news feeds.
‘And how exactly like an egg
he is!’ she said aloud,
standing with her hands ready
to catch him,
standing with her hands ready
to catch him,
for she was every moment
expecting him to fall.
Just because bad news arrives.
Doesn’t mean that.
Doesn’t mean that.
The soldiers look at it.
In a deep dug-out.
Lined with bunks.
Made of rough planks.
From the local sawmill.
With nails hammered.
Into the timber.
To hang weapons.
And winter uniforms.
A 30-year-old corporal said.
He had more urgent matters.
To think about.
– his men and the wife.
And two small children.
He left at home.
When he joined up.
Ten months ago.
Fortune, good night:
smile once more;
turn thy wheel!
turn thy wheel!
That’s a long time.
On the front line in Kursk.
He looks and sounds.
Like a combat veteran.
He has faced the North Koreans.
Who have been sent.
To join the battle there.
By their leader, ‘the One’’s ally.
“Koreans fight.
Till the end.
Even if he is injured.
And you come to him.”
“He might just.
Blow himself up.
To take more of us.
With him.”
Let go thy hold when
a great wheel runs down a hill,
lest it break thy neck
with following it;
but the great one that
goes up the hill,
let him draw
thee after.
He seemed relaxed.
About fighting on.
Without the Americans.
“Help is not something.”
“Help is not something.
That can last forever.
We have it today.
We don’t have it tomorrow.”
Ukraine, he said.
Was making many more.
Of its own weapons.
That’s true, especially when.
It comes to attack drones.
But the US still supplies.
Sophisticated systems that.
Have damaged the ‘orcs’ badly.
That which serves and seeks for gain,
And follows but for form,
Will pack when it begins to rain,
And leave thee in the storm.
But I will tarry; the fool will stay,
And let the wise man fly:
The knave turns fool that runs away;
The fool no knave, perdy.
Many of the volunteers.
Who took up arms.
Three years ago.
Have either been killed.
Have either been killed.
Maimed, or are.
Too exhausted.
To fight any more.
One of ‘elves’ most bitter.
Fault lines runs between.
Those who fight and those.
Who bribe their way out.
Who bribe their way out.
Of military service.
He said they were.
Better off without them.
Fortune, good night:
smile once more;
turn thy wheel!
turn thy wheel!
“It is better for them.
To pay not to fight.
Than to come here.
And run away.”
“And run away.
Tripping us up.
It doesn’t bother.
Me much.”
“If they came here.
They’d just scarper.
… they’re deserters.”
“… they’re deserters.”
Take vantage,
heavy eyes,
not to behold
This shameful lodging.
Fortune, good night:
smile once more;
turn thy wheel!
turn thy wheel!
War strips away.
Surplus thought.
The stakes are straightforward.
For soldiers.
Preparing to return.
To the battle in Kursk.
Preparing to return.
To the battle in Kursk.
A man, who commands.
A company of.
Airborne assault troops.
Spoke affectionately about.
The capabilities of.
Their Stryker armoured vehicles.
Supplied by the Americans.
“Kursk” he says.
“Kursk” he says.
“Shows the enemy.
A nuclear weapons state.
That a non-nuclear power.”
With a smaller population.
And a smaller army.
Can come in.
Capture land and.”
“The ‘orcs’ have been able.
To do very little about it.”
‘The One’’s objectives.
He said, were clear.
Fortune, good night:
smile once more;
turn thy wheel!
turn thy wheel!
“His task is to seize.
All of Ukraine.
Change its legal status.
And change the president.”
“And change the president.
And government.”
“His task is to seize.
All of Ukraine.”
“He wants to destroy.
Our political system.
And to make Ukraine.
His vassal state.”
Peace, Kent.
Come not between
the dragon and his wrath.
Peace, Kent.
He laughed when.
You asked whether.
The Americans and others.
Should trust ‘the One’.
“No! I don’t have.
Enough fingers.
To count.
How many times.”
“How many times.
‘The One’ lied.
To everyone!
To the ‘orcs’.”
“And to us.
And to Western partners.
He lied to everyone.”
“He lied to everyone.”
’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
At a volunteer centre.
In Kyiv.
In the first days.
After the invasion.
You met two young students.
19, and 18.
Who were signing up.
To fight.
When they lined up.
Alongside men old enough.
To be their fathers.
As well as other teenage recruits.
They carried camping gear.
And could have been friends.
Off to a festival.
Except for their assault rifles.
Peace, Kent.
Come not between
the dragon and his wrath.
Peace, Kent.
At the time, you wrote.
“18 and 19-year-old.
Lads have always.
Gone off to war.”
“I thought in Europe.
We’d got past that.”
A few weeks later.
They were in uniform.
And manning a checkpoint.
Just behind the Kyiv front line.
Still students joking.
About their parents.
‘Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jujub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!’
Both fought.
In the battle of Kyiv.
One chose to leave the army.
His right as a student volunteer.
When the fight switched.
To the east.
He is preparing to fight again.
If necessary.
He is preparing to fight again.
If necessary.
Training to be an officer.
At the National Military University.
Another stayed in uniform.
Serving in the front line.
In the east for.
More than two years.
Now he is an officer.
Working in military intelligence.
Now he is an officer.
Working in military intelligence.
‘And how exactly like an egg
he is!’ she said aloud,
standing with her hands ready
to catch him,
standing with her hands ready
to catch him,
for she was every moment
expecting him to fall.
Like millions of other.
Young people here.
War shapes their adult lives.
In ways they never expected.
The US President’s move.
Towards ‘Mordor’ makes them.
Feel almost as if.
They have to start again.
“We mobilised,” one says.
“We mobilised our resources.
Our people.
And I think.”
“It’s time that.
We repeat it once again.”
“It’s time that.
We repeat it once again.”
be Kent unmannerly,
When Lear is mad.
What will thou do, old man?
What will thou do, old man?
Unlike the men.
In the forest.
On the Kursk border.
They follow the news.
The US President’s diplomatic.
And strategic bombshells starting.
At the Munich security conference.
Only 10 days ago.
Reminds them of.
The infamous deal.
Britain’s prime minister.
Neville Chamberlain made.
At Munich in 1938.
Forcing Czechoslovakia.
To capitulate to the demands.
Made by Adolf Hitler.
“It’s similar,” another said.
“The West gives an aggressor.
An opportunity to occupy.
Some territories.”
“The West is making a deal.
With the aggressor.
With the United States.
In the role of Great Britain.”
‘Don’t you think you’d be safer
Down on the ground?’
Alice went on,
not with any idea of
making another riddle,
but simply in her good-natured
anxiety for the queer creature.
‘That wall is so very narrow!’
“It’s a very dangerous moment.
For the entire world.
Not only for Ukraine.”
Another went on.
“We can see that.
Europe is starting to wake up.
… but if they wanted.
To be ready for the war.”
“… but if they wanted.
To be ready for the war.
They should have begun.
A few years ago.”
One agreed about.
The dangers ahead.
“I think that the US President.
Wants to become like.”
“A new Neville Chamberlain.
… the US President should be.
More focused on becoming.
More like Winston Churchill.”
Reverse thy doom;
And in thy best consideration, check
This hideous rashness:
answer my life my judgement,
If you’re.
A real estate developer.
As the current.
US President was.
Before he went into.
Reality TV and then.
Presidential politics.
Demolition makes money.
Demolition makes money.
Acquire a property.
Tear it down.
Rebuild and win.
‘What tremendously easy
Riddles you ask!’
Humpty Dumpty growled out.
‘Of course I don’t think so!
Why, if ever
I did fall off
– which there’ no chance of –
but if I did –’
The trouble with that strategy.
In foreign policy is that.
Sovereignty and independence.
Don’t have a price tag.
The US President boasts.
He puts America first.
But he is not prepared.
But he is not prepared.
To accept that.
Non-Americans can feel.
The same about.
Their own countries.
My life I never held
but as a pawn
To wage against thy enemies;
nor fear to lose it.
Since he was sworn in.
For the second time.
As president of.
The United States.
He has been swinging.
The wrecking ball.
Abroad, this demolition man.
Has set about the assumptions.
That underpin.
The 80-year alliance.
Between the US and.
European democracies.
Here he pursed up his lips
and looked so solemn and grand
that Alice could hardly
help laughing.
‘If I did fall,’
he went on,
‘the King has promised me –
ah, you may turn pale, if you like!
He is unpredictable.
But much of what.
He is doing.
He has talked about for years.
He is not the first.
He is not the first.
American president.
To resent the way.
Its European allies.
Have saved money.
By sheltering behind.
The US defence budget.
See better, Lear;
and let me still remain
The true blank
of thine eye.
The US President.
Wants payback.
He demanded.
Half a trillion dollars.
Of mineral rights.
From Ukraine.
The US President.
Wants payback.
‘Gandalf the Green’ turned.
That deal down.
Saying he couldn’t.
Sell his country.
He wants.
Security guarantees.
In exchange.
For any concessions.
You didn’t think I was
going to say that, did you?
The King has promised me
– with his very own mouth – to – to –‘
‘To send all his horses
and all his men,’
Alice interrupted,
rather unwisely.
In private.
European politicians and.
Diplomats recognise that.
With the former US President.
They gave Ukraine.
Enough military and.
Financial support.
Not to lose to ‘Mordor’.
Not to lose to ‘Mordor’.
But never enough to win.
Not to lose to ‘Mordor’.
But never enough to win.
The argument for.
More of the same.
Is that ‘Mordor’.
Weakened by sanctions.
And drained of manpower.
As its generals squander.
Their men’s lives.
Will eventually lose.
Will eventually lose.
A war of attrition.
A war of attrition.
That is far from certain.
Now, by Apollo, king,
Thou swear’st thy gods in vain.
Now, by Apollo, king,
Thou swear’st thy gods in vain.
Wars usually end.
With agreements.
Wars usually end.
With agreements.
Germany’s unconditional.
Surrender in 1945.
Was a rarity.
The complaint against.
The current US President.
Is that he has.
No real plan.
So he has followed.
A gut instinct.
To get closer.
To ‘the One’.
A man he admires.
‘Now I declare
that’s too bad!’
Humpty Dumpty cried,
breaking into a sudden passion.
‘You’ve been listening at doors
– and behind trees
– and down chimneys
– or you couldn’t have know it!’
The current US president.
Seems to believe that.
Strong leaders from.
The most powerful states.
Strong leaders from.
The most powerful states.
Can bend the world.
Into the shape they want.
The concessions.
He has already.
Offered to ‘the One’.
Reinforce the idea.
That his top priority is.
Normalising relations.
With ‘Mordor’.
With ‘Mordor’.
‘I haven’t, indeed!’
Alice said very gently.
‘It’s in a book.’
‘Ah, well! They may write
such things in a book,’
Humpty Dumpty said in a calmer tone.
‘That’s what you call
a History of England, that is.
A more credible plan.
Would have been to include.
A way to make ‘the One’.
Drop ideas.
That are lodged deep.
In his geostrategic DNA.
One of the strongest is.
That Ukraine’s sovereignty.
That Ukraine’s sovereignty.
Must be broken.
And control of the country.
Returned to the Kremlin.
As it was in Soviet times.
And before that.
In the empire of.
‘Mordor’’s Czars.
‘If he smiled much more,
the ends of his mouth
might meet behind,’
she thought:
‘and then I don’t know
what would happen to his head!
I’m afraid
it would come off!’
It is hard to see.
How that happens.
It is hard to see.
How that happens.
The idea is as unlikely.
As Ukraine surrendering.
Its independence.
To ‘Mordor’.
Europe’s security is.
Being turned upside down.
By the war.
In Ukraine.
No wonder its leaders.
Are so badly rattled.
By all they have heard.
And seen this month.
’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
Their challenge is.
To find ways to avoid.
Their young people.
Being forced into.
The unexpected world of war.
That has enveloped the lad.
The 22-year-old ‘elf’.
Combat veteran.
“Everyone changed.
And I have changed.
I think that every ‘elves’ matured.
During these three years.”
“Everyone who.
Entered the military.
And everyone who.
Was fighting for.”
“And everyone who.
Was fighting for.
Such a long time.
Drastically changed.”
Fare thee well, king:
sith thus thou wilt appear,
Freedom lives hence,
and banishment is here.
*Because I read “Three years on, Ukraine’s extinction nightmare has returned” by Jeremy Bowen on 24 Feb 2025, and also “Why are Ukrainians calling Russians ‘orcs’?” by James FitzGerald on 30 Apr 2022, on the BBC news.
So, I wrote this poem, including a story of Evhen, a story of Mykola, and a story of Maxsym and Dmytro, led by ‘KING LEAR’ written by William Shakespeare and ‘THROUGH the LOOKING-GLASS’ written by Lewis Carroll, you know.
Please read the original story on the BBC news:
