Peter Rhodes on giraffes, climate guilt and a sinister love affair with the Nazis
The Battle Hymn of the Republic sung at Trump's inauguration reminded me of my old school choir.
Boldly led by the baritone sixth-formers, we skinny sopranos would belt out: “Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the lord / he is trampling on the village where the great giraffes are stored.” Even a school choir has its bad boys.
