Letters to the Association The Secretary, S.A.S.A. Dear Secretary Person, I was sitting pondering the tactical situation developing on my sandtable when the SAS notice of Annual Meeting and proxy form arrived in the post. General Ahmoud's WWI Turkish 10th Division, under the command of a couple of experienced wargamers were giving the Light Horse a hard time. Wave after wave of Minifig Turks were making the position at Meriq-En-Bidar untenable. Could they seize the Suez Canal? My figure of "Galloping Jack" ROYSTON had command of the Australian Light Horse. Strewn before the wire were heaps of dead 15mm Turks (Courtesy of Irregulars that break of at the ankles when anyone sneezes). Others poured through the gaps undeterred by the relentless pounding of good dice-scores. Racing to the rescue the 5th Irish Territorial Lancers galloped along the Peco OO flexi-track at the breakneck 300mm per turn while the umpire checked to see if their morale would hold. Until then, sheltered amongst similar minded, long time friends, with a love of history, modelling and painting figures I had thought we were fighting a WARGAME drawn from one of the greatest conflicts of all time. Then it came. The battle ground to a halt as I read the SASA correspondence delivered to the front. Shock and horror swept across the front lines. What "Galloping Jack" and the lovingly painted models of "his boys" were really doing was NOT A WARGAME. Not even a "simulation", a "miniatures battle" or "simulated conflict". It was an INTERACTIVE SCENARIO! Gulping a glass or two of Two Dogs lemonade, I stared at players and Minifigs troops alike. My pale pallor, staring eyes and slack lips dribbling Two Dogs into ALH Brigade HQ grabbed their attention. "Whats wrong?" The players asked, as the SASA dispatch fluttered to the floor from my trembling fingers. "This is no longer a wargame." I croaked with shocked voice. "Its an interactive scenario with no mention of conflict to remove connotations of warmongering." Someone snatched up the SASA dispatch and read it aloud. "Whats proscriptions of sexist language?" Someone cried. One of the gamers scratched vigorously, "Oh, my God! Its not contagious is it?" We rode our 15mm General figures to the centre of the table for a conference the bulk of my minifig troop- persons stumbled about in confused groups desperately seeking an identity now they were no longer "wargames figures". "Merde! SAS has developed a severe case of Public Service-speak" General d'AMADE gasped in disgust. "Allah was with us in this battle so you infidel dogs try and confuse things," General AHMOUD screamed most ungraciously. "Nah! Its bullshit," Galloping Jack said empathically. "Ya, Ya, ist subterfuge," von Sanders went on. "You recall in der Gross Krieg der Anglanders invented `Frau unt Herr' das Panzerkamph-unt-bullet-spitzensparken-wagen vich dey is calling dies Tank as code namen." "If fooled you Hun chappies," General MURRAY said as his staff car joined the circle. "Nobody knew tanks actually killed people! Calling them Male and Female really hid what they were." "They only called `em Male and Female to indicate which one was dickless," Galloping Jack added with tasteless accuracy. "Allah be praised!" Ahmoud added, "and so neither faithful or infidel would it was an instrument of war!" "Only until the bloody thing started killing people," Galloping Jack grunted. "Oh, I say!" General Murray said slapping his thigh. "So these SASA chappies think that calling things an interactive Scenario, nobody will ever know they are actually fighting a wargame!" "Ya, das dummkopfen public unt mediafrothunspit persons vill be foolen!" Von Sanders snarled. "Yeah, right up until the first time someone fights a wargame," Galloping Jack grunted, shaking his head in disgust. By now, the tabletop battle was degenerating into an Interactive Scenario. Gunners ceased to gun being unsure who to interact with. Little officers stared unknowingly at troops who were as confused as they were. "Who are we?" Tiny voices cried in multiple tongues. "Mon braves, ve are usually told to act most bravely against ze enemy armies, not zis, ow you say, `Interact with zem'," a Horizon Blue painted French NCO cried in frustration. He paused in thought, "I `ope zis does mean ze SEX. Ze Turks are so scruffily painted!" "I'm a 2WT Infantry Advancing," cried one Turk as he shinned up a simulated Palm tree. "Allah be praised, the Minifigs catalogue says THEY are the best name in wargames figures." Other 2WT's and the occasional 5WT fell to their knees, touching their foreheads in the direction of my Minifigs catalogue. "That Neville Dickenson bloke wouldn't lie about somthing that important! Shouted a bent bayonet 5WZ pained with his sleeves rolled up and brown leather webbing. "It even said on the packet I'm a Wargames and Collectors Figure," cried a 8WZ rising from the prone position. Little white metal voices joined in agreement as other types of WZ's massed riotously around a 2CE with model beer barrel cargo. "We know who we are!" One screamed plunging a bayonet into the side of the plastic barrel. "Does SASA know who the hell they are?" Just then Sire Humphrey BRIGHTSPARK dressed in shining armour and riding `Pomposity', his neutrally gendered, favourite horse, galloped onto the tapletop at Almost-but-notquite-so-Superheavy as other Super- superheavy Cavalry speed as dictated by WRG 7th Edition. "Ho there, Simulated Interactive Scenario Persons! I come from the Ministry of Political Correctness and SASA Public Relations Fretting, to sort out this mess." "By the Prophets," Ahmoud wailed. "It wasn't a mess until now. I just want my infantrymen to finish killing the infidel cavalrymen." Sir Humphrey raised a hand, "Hold back your infantrypersons. You must spare the cavalrypersons for now. We can't have that sort of thing. Your model representations of simulated, aggressively intended, ethnic persons of southern European Anatolian extractions and eastern subjugated provinces auxiliary Arabic speaking persons, assisted by a northern European Teutonic councillor of non-pacific-mindset, must indulge in scenario interaction with these federated ex-colonial persons of basically Anglo-Saxon heritage on an area not subject to land claim by previous tenant, indigenous inhabitants and who are allied to friends of Anglo/French racial descent and suitably simulated pro-violent intent." He took a breath, "That is provided of course due case has been given to groups of alternative lifestyle and sexual preference choices across a wide spectrum of socio-economic realities with due consideration of proportional representation of simulation figurines on a non-gender basis and equitable social structured percentage guidelines." "This man has more words than fleas on a rancid camel!" Screamed Ahmoud. "Wo is der Translator?" Bellowed von Sanders. "Parlez vous Anglaise?" d'Amade queried. "Shoot `im," said Galloping Jack. The man's got verbal dioarrea[sic]." "Wait," Sir Humphrey pleaded as he stared at the business end of a 15mm Broom Handle pistol cast in white metal and painted a menacing black for better tabletop recognition. "Don't you see the benefits of politspeak. Political Correctness is vital. By not using sexists[sic] phraseology no-one will ever know who is a male and who is a female. Or even if they should accidentally find it out won't matter because policicial correctness has ensured no one will be embarrassed by find out they are....well, male or female so to speak." "I'm keeping the balls," Galloping Jack said firmly. "But if ist nict seeing which ist das buxom blondes das fingerpoken unt mittengrabben ist risky business," von Sanders said pleadingly, having had a previous ugly scene with a GHQ Turkish transvestite. "Surely this is a waste of time, " Ahmoud suggested. "We know which one are the women. They are the ones with ankle length dresses, veils and only their eyes showing." "I like the ones in Cairo with little bells and wiggly bellies," Galloping Jack grunted. Got any of them in the catalogue?" A group of 7WZ's asked hopefully. Sir Humphrey looked down one them from his white horse. His neutrally shaped non-sexist armoured `T' Shirt gleaming. The suit of armour notable for its lack of a cod-piece. "You don't understand. By adopting non-sexist reference no one can ever be insulted." "Well I am insulted old fruit," Murray suggested. "I'm a MAN. Why can't I be called a Man?" "Not politically correct old chap. Might insult some female person," Sir Humphrey said disparagingly. "We'll just have to re-write the whole of history since the dawn of personkind. Been damned unfair so far. Got to be all changed." "I just wanna get on with it and kill more bloody Turks!" Galloping Jack said threateningly. "Sorry. Can't have that," Sir Humphrey said firmly. "You can only engage in a non warmongering interactive scenario that will not draw attention to militaristic hobbies that have the potential to upset someone." Galloping Jack tugged at his sword. "I'll show you upset and neutral gendered all in one swipe." The Minifigs Generals crowded threateningly around Sir Humphrey's ZC305 horse. "Can we kill infidels?" Ahmoud asked. "Better not," Sir Humphrey suggested. "Don't want outsiders getting the wrong impression. Might think we are supporting violence and religious bias." General Murray brushed some dust from his uniform. "Well, I suppose we've still the correct uniforms and things." "Glad you raised that," Sir Humphrey said quickly. "We just can't have all you chaps being moved about on a tabletop in full uniform. People will think it's warmongering. Why not try wearing civilian clothes. Minifigs do peasants don't they?" "Peasants!!!!" Bellowed General Murray. "Damn cheek. The man's a bounder." "Donner unt blitzen." Von Sanders screamed. "Das is inhumane. Mine leather hose is gross hot." "My sheets at the cleaners." Ahmoud wailed. "Y'can't wear thongs on a bloody `orse," Galloping Jack said assertively. "Even if there is plenty of sand." "Mon dieu. The glory and honour of my Regiment is at stake," d'Amade wailed. "Ah, yes, Regiment! Glory! Honour! Thats another thing. We can't have any of that army talk," Sir Humphrey said sharply. "Someone could be listening and think you are warmongering." He waved a hand across the masses of staring and confused Minifigs. "Come on you chaps. Get into civvies at one 9X might be the closest we can get but don't forget you might need to do some conversions to represent all sexes and ethnic minorities in correct proportion to your national distributions." Sir Humphrey stared at the little ruined village and battle scarred terrain. "Best get rid of the wrecked hovels and shell holes, they're a dead give away for conflict having occurred. We only want interactiveness in a scenario sort of way from now on." "Who is this bastard?" Galloping Jack snarled to General Murray. "Don't know old chap. Man's a cad! Wouldn't let him in my club." "Wouldn't let him in the club," Galloping Jack mused. He grinned and called the others closer. "We got a motion for the SASA meeting," Galloping Jack said. "We propose that SASA is in fact and reality a wargames club. It's members are engaged in wargames, the study of Military History, the collection of military books, model soldiers, ships, aircraft and other wargames gear including those newfangled computer gizmo's[sic]. Instead of skulking behind fancy terms and references they ought to work toward a better public understanding of the hobby. Anyone who is too ashamed to be a member of an organisation engaged in the above should admit it and leave." "Good show," General Murray shouted. "Allah Akbah." Screamed Ahmoud. "Anything else is bullshit," Galloping Jack said firmly. "May they leave accompanied by a her of smelly, insatiable, nymphomaniac goats," Ahmoud said with a satisfied grin having trapped in a Wadi by such a group and barely survived. "I say. Smelly might be going too far," Murray said with a shake of his head. This Company supports the SASA, why don't you consider supporting them? The circle of Generals widened again. White metal buglers sounded assembly. The Minifigs ran back to their places delighted to have regained their identity. (The WZ's had burned the plastic barrel when they discovered that it was solid) They passed a few cheering Essex Colonials who'd all but given up trying to fit in as Palestine Germans despite a heavy conversion job. The dice were poised over the rule book. Pleased that at least for our group, the subject had been dealt with as seriously as it deserved to be, I looked around the group. "Everyone ready?" The players nodded and returned their attention to the sandtable. "LETS FINISH THE WARGAME YOU BLOKES." I said. Mal Wright.