Evening Standard art critic Brian Sewell recalls the Second World War, in A horror too deep for tears [thanks Paul B], which is the sort of wordy, learned, quite probably pseudy article that only Sewell could write. "In 1942 the man who had shot my dog married my mother and made me go to school. The torments there could have happened at any time in the earlier 20th century, but the war added a certain zest to the possibilities of indiscipline. We sabotaged almost all attempts to teach us during air raids by removing the light bulbs from the shelters, and in the dark we spent countless hours engaged in mutual masturbation, occasionally whole days of it, infinitely preferable to mathematics".