Occasionally - well, quite often in fact - I am asked: "Must you?". This is a num question, with an implied reproach. And the answer is no: I do not have to, but I want to.
So, on seeing, in Esmerelda's latest wonderful photo essay on the pub signs, a reference to Devizes, I was moved to frame an imperfect symmetry:
There was a young man from Devizes
Whose balls were of differing sizes
One was so small
It was no ball at all,
But the other was huge and won prizes
More sauce, for gander and goose, in Uttoxeter and all points north.
Not just Hitler, but Himmler too, at least in the wartime song sung to Col. Bogey's March, was said to be one-balled. The two of them were "Manner with a strange devize."