Friday 11 November 2016

A Welcome Trump.

In this reprise of Dick Whittington we’re in the final scene. Two giant oak doors open to the approach of a small boy made good. Well not good exactly, more viciously veracious from a distorted childhood. We glimpse the assembled faces within the ajar turn from hatred to smiles, his turn from disdain to an equally false face shape. As he treads closer on a blood red carpet of broken commoners all are eager for the doors to close behind him. Like some Masonic Bohemian Grove ceremony he with the tallest hat takes his place at the head of the pentagram. What was in doubt is made whole again: the commoners are safe without. Boris Johnson who once called him a buffoon, a serious accolade from one so well qualified in that arena, sees new opportunities in their brotherly bond. Vanessa May is keen to do business via ‘our special relationship’ with the boy who has bullied and screwed every business partner he’s ever had. But all is well; the gates are closed. The circle of power is secure again. 

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