Focus, Focus, Focus
Once upon a time there was a failed British politician. His father had been laughed out of politics. He himself had been influential in taking Britain into the First World War, a horrific disaster. During that war, he sent a large force to Gallipoli in Turkey. The troops were massacred as soon as they arrived. He went on to become the worst Finance Minister in living memory. He changed parties twice, ending up distrusted and disliked by most of his colleagues. On top of all this, he was an alcoholic, and prone to spells of deep depression.
Yet he was focused. He wanted to become Prime Minister of Britain. That was all he cared about, all he dreamed about, all he worked toward. And he was focused in another way. Throughout the 1930s, he identified one issue that he thought was very important, and he kept banging on about it. He thought that Germany was a lethal threat to the British Empire. He was scorned as a bore, as well as a drunk.
The man was . . .