I am but a weak vessel, reader, ever ready to flounder, like the Titanic. My faults are many, my life was not the smoothest, many are the stitches which I drop. Yes, some folks call me a fool, as did that Liverputian spoilsport yesterday in a comment to my Zapruder post. Others say I am deeply ignorant, like the Anonymous Aficionado who can never keep silent when I write the word ‘blood sport’. Others yet again – like the famous Jerry who stands up for the honour of the Dinosaurs – accuse me of ‘Word Wizzardry’ (sic) and Ad Hominem arguments… Oh, yes, go ahead, all of you: throw your First Stones, each and every one! See what it brings you!
I am but a man, dear reader. A frail old man, mortal, defenceless, bent with age, burdened with past mistakes and memories. But to show you that I may perhaps be forgiven my weaknesses, let me offer you this snapshot taken in the beautiful town of Tomar, in central Portugal. This gorgeous graffiti, itself a most eloquent example of what it states, says
The correct translation of which is