As if the Donald wasn’t bad enough, our own ether seems somewhat afflicted by virtual-reality syndrome. Facebook and Twitter are rather poor substitutes for a decent letter of resignation, apparently a dying art. Meanwhile, it’s becoming difficult to keep up with your pirouettes. Perhaps you’ve been given dancing lessons and guidance on how to stuff a post down someone’s throat – although the original recipe used a piece of cake. Incidentally, for future reference, although rectal licking’s the same everywhere, French hand-kissing is a more subtle affair: you don’t actually kiss the hand but only nearly do so.
Correct kissing is particularly useful in public life although nothing compared with integrity and courtesy. Your exit seems to have been a tad inelegant, especially with your Daddy in the audience waiting to applaud you. He must be wondering how professional your upbringing was now he’s lost his own job too. You deserve a good spanking next time to retourn lakaz papa.
You were meant to be the great white knight, cleansing the countryside of all its dirt, not plotting your own future. What made you believe you had a right to become Minister of Finance, let alone PM? Perhaps you thought your smart city manoeuvres would deliver an ultimate heritage or were you carried away by the injudicious decision to anoint you GCSK so early in your political life? Sad.
A Ministry of Good Governance was a great idea and genuine reformist zeal might have been better served if you’d just carried on. Never mind. It’s no use crying over spilt water, which makes me think of Zeus. He’s been strangely absent-minded lately. I don’t read the tabloids myself – except for professional reasons – but the Olympos Morning Post, a sensationalist organ believed to be funded by Ottoman immigrant cells, suggests he’s become infatuated with a young herdsman from Albion. Not you, of course, but never mind. If sage gods don’t fall for you, you can console yourself with what happened to Ganymede, the most sudarshan of mortals. Hera was so jealous that Zeus had to dump him in the heavens as Aquarius, the Water Bearer. Not a position you’d espouse yourself I guess, even with your chum Ivan at the helm. Mind you, the resulting lake of tears might have solved the water shortage.
Meanwhile, your party hasn’t got off to the brightest start. You could at least have had your lion facing two alternative ways. Rather than nicking old slogans from fizzy-drink bottles, which suggest a lot of froth with little substance, it might have been better to seek help from MT. How about The Future’s Lemon? At least you’re now virtually a party leader but I would recommend more prudence in your policy-making. Attacking those with dual nationality may be designed to eliminate competitors but won’t go down well with those banking on an Overseas Citizens of India card. But then nationalism’s on the rise everywhere – although there’s much confusion here as to whom the nation actually belongs.
Unfortunately you’re but a symptom of a deeper malaise, recently diagnosed as bumptious little male appendage syndrome. How the Tartaros did we come to a situation where almost every politico’s bent on obtaining higher office or threatening to jump ship if he hasn’t been made at least acting deputy chief rod-bearer? Even backbenchers get a free i-Pad, with Facebook already installed. Isn’t that enough for perfect happiness in a perfect democracy?
Yours sincerely, Epi PHRON