I’m afraid this really is The End, my friends. A week ago the Stump was showing signs of ailing. Dry rot had set in on one side. Someone had hacked lumps off it and strewn them all over the Rec.
The Stump had, however, survived one previous assassination attempt (in January a year ago) and I was hopeful that this latest setback would prove a mere interruption to its continuing story of resurrection and renascence in the face of adversity. However, this was the scene that greeted me this morning:
Well and truly and radically extirpated, I’m afraid, and (as football commentators are prone to saying in less dramatic circumstances) it’ll take a miracle to come back from this.
When I have gathered my thoughts I shall try to compose some suitable epitaph for the Stump. For the moment, though, I suppose it’s a good job I didn’t identify with the Stump too closely.