There was a time before hoodies and happy slappers where innocence prevailed in England's green and pleasant land. Still reeling from rationing, the Blitz and the threat of invasion by the sausage-wielding Hun, the country submerged itself in pastoral nostalgia. No, this was not some Wordsworthian Nirvana but a propagandistic effort built on the foundation of Dad's Army; wholesome fun with chums, magic woods and talking twigs! Although something was lurking beneath the veneer of scones and clotted cream, the hope that the generation of whippersnappers, now affectionately known as the baby boomers, would not fall into the same chasm of hedonism as the youngsters after the 'Great War'. This nihilism pit was full to the brim with Fascism, Communism, and impoliteness.
To ensure the safety of the next generation a character emerged from the ashes of a smoldering Europe and this phoenix's name was Rupert, Rupert the bear. His rallying cry was not "sieg hiel" or "da comrade" but "thank you very much" and "that will do nicely".
This affectionate character has been etched into the subconscious of British culture, as vividly as Alex and his merry band of droogs, as kitsch as Benny Hill and as poignant as the Renaissance artists' love of that most romantic of subjects, the fall of an empire.
