Days of despair and defiance

30/05/26

Last week’s article was already up and running when it all started all over again on Saturday. The leader who isn’t the leader was due to hold a rally in the capital. The other leader not leader was due to have a rally on the coast but realised he had no friends there so decided to stage it at the capital’s headquarters. One was massive, enthusiastic, beaming smiles and defiance; the other had an audience of people who had got lost going to a funeral and ended up there. The leader read from a pre typed script given (written for, urm, typo). In a desperate bid to wake the audience up he threw white doves in the air, like Jesus he was pure and was going to cleanse the party, this was written boldly on the building. The party had been infiltrated by every plague there ever was and he would lay his hand on them and they would all disappear into a Russian-like gulag.

01/06/26

Doesn’t time fly when you’re trying to resist watching the news? The sheer terror of what awaits me in the living room to gobble me up is enough for me to consider hiding under the duvet forever. Last night the main news channels held a not so beauty parade, his disciples covered all the screens, wined and dined, treated like celebrities. In the past, their parties’ faces would only have been seen in the urinal. 

Morning - afternoon nothing. “The parliament isn’t sitting!” I envisaged Armageddon. “It’s not my fault,” my wife answers, “I’m not the government.” And that is very true, because if she was, we would have some serious problems. Instead, the new leader tells parliament “I am the leader.” “Who says so?” “Me.” “We need more evidence; have you got a badge or something?” 

We wait with baited breath, his now not MPs are going to meet tomorrow. Tho like a rock star he may throw himself into the parliamentary group mosh pit.    

As the light falls, I decide to take cover in Netflix, HBO or Amazon. I have been saving one of the greatest moments in my life, I think it’s time to wheel out the good times. “Untold UK: Liverpool's Miracle of Istanbul.”

I glance at the late news before and see his face. I saw him on stage once; he seemed good and kind. He had a real hope in a very different future.  I have doubts he will ever come out and for his family that would be a bitter pill to swallow, especially for his tireless defiant wife.

02/06/36

It is the morning and I’m barely awake, something needs “cleansing” the man says; it is echoed everywhere. Do they know the dangers of such language? Or is that what they want and who will be first? I put it all down to a misunderstanding in my translation, laugh and put the coffee on. Silly me.   

It is 12.30pm and there is almost a party like atmosphere in the stadium, I mean parliament. Delegates have been waiting for hours. They are on the verge of bursting into song after days of despair, this is The European Cup Final.

It’s 1pm and they are singing and chanting they are in fine voice, over to you in the stadium.  

He entered the building and the audience parted like the Red Sea as he climbed to the stage. He spoke in tones and colours that warmed the audience and those back home. Blackness diluted until a clear white line showed the way. And then the symphony ended and he walked out into the light. (DM/VK)