Category: Lies

The Prime Minister had special affection for the United Nations
suspicion couldn’t decide if her humanitarianism was sincere
or hedge against voter rejection
an IOU or two in New York useful in bad times
jobs for the boys. Or girls.

Timing in politics, as elsewhere, is everything
unwanted refugees allow centre stage magnanimity.
Take more? Yes we can.
Cameras and Secretary General take note.

He fled Cambodia
when it was Kampuchea
spent years in a camp in Thailand
a tailor trying to find work – anything
I was a volunteer on a resettlement programme
trying to find fulfilment – anything.

I am shown a thick file
rejection letters
jobs he could do easily and well
he thinks it is his language.

An epidemic swept the Western world In the ‘80s
every male between 20 and 47 affected a moustache
according to an acid tongued TV reviewer
Tom Selleck was the contagion – Magnum P.I the vector

At take-away stands
ticket windows
parent teacher nights
the population found itself talking to a moustache.
Everywhere
TV news, lecterns, cabs, moustaches spoke back.
Perhaps it was revenge for the 1970s
women couldn’t do everything after all.

It’s what I remember most about my first boss.
the moustache
it bristled every time he mentioned
any of his many prejudices.
I think Ron the most egalitarian person I met
he had a bad word for everyone.

Deeply conservative
he believed in God
the Queen
Communist’s were evil
and although twice divorced
had special reverence for marriage.

He greatly admired Reagan and Thatcher
their philosophy and economics
particularly economics.
More market, less government
the economy would be fine
if only the government would stay the hell out.
Private enterprise was decisive
effective and testicular – no pussies
that’s what he liked
“how it bloody well should be.”

It’s many years since I listened to his hacksaw virility
he retires at the end of this one
a civil servant for 44 years
not a single day in private enterprise.
He never went to the altar with his alter ego.

A talent quest in a town of 1200 people
more than a thousand potential candidates
small enough for several hours awfulness
big enough for a nugget of gold.

If the purpose was to entertain
the winner did
an obese man who wobble croaked Bob Dylan imitations
so side splittingly awful, the crowd screamed for more.

Other contestants could feel aggrieved
attentive hair, obedient make up, perfect costumes
lines compliant to rehearsal’s insistence
lose to unselfconscious buffoonery.
The runners up especially
a real time couple with a sweet duet of love
a boy meets girl song
one of so many origin is not pondered.
He tall and dark, she petite and olive
an image from television advertisement land.

Truth would admit their costume and theme garishly amateur
but slick choreography – almost professional
opening with her coy
him pleading
shifting to both contemplative
the roulette pauses
then pays out love’s breath clutched bid.

The crowd are enchanted and dopamine released – the winners surely
until the very last act
the nasal grated imitator
complete with cat screech harmonica.
Laughter surrenders to shower singing cringe.

Later that week I visit a friend we talk trivia
people and events and the talent quest
should know better corny confesses sympathy for second place.
A cigarette is ground into an ashtray – darkness.
Outrage trembles
my friend has secret life as a volunteer counsellor
anger displaces confidentiality.
Did I notice the woman from the love song always wore makeup?
“No.”
men don’t – women ascribe vanity – it was to hide the bruises.