It was the week before Christmas.

[MANICHAEAN]

IT WAS THE WEEK BEFORE CHRISTMAS.
[/U]

Part 1:



"Bloody frogs!" exclaimed the Prime Minister.

"What was that dear?" echoed his wife's clear chiselled response from the small kitchen above No 10.

"Oh nothing Samantha darling. Just wondering whether it was too muddy to go for a jog."

"Don't be silly dear; just think of those papers getting pictures of you sweating in St James Park. Leave that sort of thing to American Presidents. They seem to get so much more satisfaction running with bodyguards in track suits downtown. Why don't you let me get you started on riding at Chequers next week? It's so much more distinguished and British."

Cameron thought back to the day when he first saw his future bride on a horse. The pride of being a lady had something to do with it. The Sheffield connections, though not exactly aristocratic, were unquestionably "good." He thought her bewitching mounted in the saddle and he enjoyed it in a pagan, sensuous kind of way.

[MANICHAEAN]

Part 2:

Outside it was coming up to Christmas and in the Victorian squares of inner London a sparse remnant of yellow leaves were still falling slowly athwart the dark trees in a stillness without sunshine.

In one such house, nestled in Kensington, the coalition Deputy PM was also ruminating on last week's decision by Cameron to apply the veto to the rest of the European Community.

Clegg was a man in his fifties known for his acquiescent temper, miscellaneous opinions, and uncertain vote. Last week had been a shock. Pro-European by conviction, his as yet partially unconsummated political bed partner had drawn him into this whole bloody British tradition of let's bash the French & the Hun.

[MANICHAEAN]

Part 3:

Across the Channel in Paris, the French President was still waking after a fitful night's sleep in the Elysee Palace. He was still miffed at last night's rebuff of his proposal of "l'amour" to his model, Italian born wife.

"Ma petite fromage, je t'adore" he had said in what he perceived to be a low voice, resonant with Gallic ardour.

"Non, non cheri, not tonight," said Carla, putting up her hand with careless deprecation.

A woman was expected to dictate before marriage in order that she may have an appetite for
submission afterwards. He was becoming edgy. All in all he sensed the tide in his fortunes was on the turn again. It had all begun so well at the beginning of last week in Brussels.

"Sarkosy rows with the UK, and says "Non" to special treatment."


"French President compares British Prime Minister to a difficult child."

These were but a sample of the headlines and his domestic popularity had risen. Angela Merkel had backed him and the rest of the twenty seven members had, (albeit reluctantly in some
cases), acquiesced. France was to all outward appearances the leader of Europe & he was their
leader. The greatest man of his age, if ever that solitary superlative existed.

However fissures had begun to appear in this transient state of self-delusion.

Since attaining power he had sustained what he saw as a credible political performance for the French nation into which he had thrown much ambition and irrepressible hopefulness. But still there were interjectional "asides." Signs are small, measurable things, but interpretations are illimitable. Some were without doubt serious like the exposure of the French banks to bad debt elsewhere in Europe and a proposed downgrading of France's Triple A credit rating. Others were more irritating, especially references to his diminutive size, the nickname "President Bling Bling," whilst others commented unfavourably that he saw more of the German Chancellor than he did his own wife.

"Merde" he concluded. "Napoleon was small as well and look what he did!"

[MANICHAEAN]

Part 4:

Later that day back in London, a full emergency cabinet meeting was called by the PM to review the unravelling European situation. The Cabinet Room was of an impressive nature. The chairs and main table were substantial and difficult to manoeuvre. It was a room where one might fancy the ghost of a waist-coated Victorian reviewing the scene of Empire. Surrounding bookcases contained duodecimo volumes of polite literature in calf, completing the furniture.

The occasion was, as normal, conducted in a manner both serious and relevant by all honourable participants and the Prime Minister kicked off.

"We are here today to discuss potential contingency plans arising from our colleagues south of Calais endeavouring to change our British way of life through proposed amendments to the European Treaty of which we are partners. I think it pertinent to view what are the dangers and how do we address them. Who would like to start?"

"Thin end of the wedge" threw in the Minister of Transport in a thin reedy voice. "If we don't continue to block their initial proposal of a tax on financial transactions, then the next step will be to force the British motorist to drive on the right!"

"I was thinking of something a bit more substantial than that" interjected the PM witheringly.

"What about the imminent collapse of the euro then?" came from the First Sea Lord further down the table. "It could mean another Dunkirk, evacuating all those UK retirees from Tuscany and the Algarve back to Blighty when their money becomes worthless. The Royal Navy is stretched as it is, especially with all these damm cuts."

"Their own bloody fault" stuck in the Defence Minister, a florid man of impeccable Anglo Saxon credentials, who had a few hairs on his domed pate carefully arranged, and a carriage implying the consciousness of a distinguished appearance.

"Should have retired to Scotland or the West Country like the rest of us."

(To be continued)

[MANICHAEAN]

Part 4 continued:

Nick Clegg, Deputy PM endeavoured to get the discussion back on track, for though having mildly acquiesced in his colleague's sentiments, he detected the need to infuse them with an element of common sense whereby one is able to accept significant events without any eccentric agitation.

"Might I remind my honourable colleagues that we are here today, not to make rash decisions which our contemporaries might look at with conjectural curiosity. We must not enter on any subject too precipitately."

Cameron seated as by rank in the central table position gave him a look of reverential gratitude and venerating expectation. There were too many of his relatively new government that were both enamoured of intensity and contracted of a too rambling habit of mind, the result no doubt of the eager interest of a fresh nature to which every variety in experience is an epoch.

The Chancellor of the Exchequer spoke next.

"A man can only be cosmopolitan up to a certain point."

He had the spare form and the pale complexion which became his office. It was only safe to say that he would act with benevolent intentions and that he would spend as little money as possible in carrying them out. He was a man of wealth in his own right, enough to give lustre to his piety. He was not impulsive: what he had to say came from him always with the same quiet, staccato evenness. When people talked with energy and emphasis he merely watched their faces and features.

To the PM he was an asset, in that he saw the emptiness of other people's pretensions much more readily. To have in general but little feeling seemed to be the only security against feeling too much on any particular occasion.

"Sarkosy knows his banks are exposed & he wants us in, equally exposed in a common burden as it were" the Chancellor said.

"He must be dreadful to live with. Only think! At breakfast every morning" broke in the only female Cabinet member.

But there was a common consensus around the table that a man would naturally think twice before he risked himself to her alternate fellowship. Women were expected to have weak opinions, but the great safeguard of society and of domestic life was that opinions were not acted on.

"Come" said the PM, "I would be grateful that we don't make any more observations of that kind. Let's get back to the main business. In the event of a collapse of the euro & Europe in general for that matter, what are the other likely scenarios? For a start, what will the Germans do?"

"Probably invade their neighbours like they usually do" responded the Defence Minister.

"The Greeks would probably welcome it" was contributed from further down the table. "Any administration than the one they have got would be an improvement."

"What about the Pope?" chipped in another.

"Oh he will call for peace and Christian reconciliation."

"Will he get it?"

"No, likely Berlusconi will pronounce himself Emperor or El Duce and lock him up!"

[MANICHAEAN]

Later that day, the meeting adjourned and all attendees repaired to their respective homes and the family preparations for Christmas. It had been a good meeting and it had been decided in the event, to wait and see what evolved.

Oh yes. There was one more thing.

It was unanimous that a Seasons Greeting card would not be sent to the French Embassy in Carlton Gardens.

[AuntShecky]

This was quite an enjoyable read, with its topical humor and wit drier than the needles on a Christmas--er "holiday"--tree somebody forgot to water. If nothing else, your story shows that LitNutters can choose topics about real figures in the contemporary world without resorting to political polemics.

"That being said" --to use the dreadful phrase employed by annoying pundits-this piece has much in common with the nightly monolgues of American talk show hosts, though some are more acerbic than others. For instance, Jay Leno goes out of his way to keep his non-threatening mainstream status with a constant bland diet while others (Stewart, Colbert, Conan O'Brien)
are more acerbic. I'd say that the mordancy of this piece, softened by its good-natured view, puts your narrator squarely between the two different
kinds of comedian.

There were only two rough spots which I had trouble reading. This one is a tad abstract:




However fissures had begun to appear in this transient state of self-delusion. Invariably there emerges a stealthy convergence of human lots in life and despite placing oneself in a brave attitude of receptivity towards all sublime chances; destiny still stands by sarcastic with the "dramatis personae" folded in her hand.









And several successive sentences in this paragraph begin the same way, with the same word:


He had the spare form and the pale complexion which became his office. It was only safe to say that he would act with benevolent intentions and that he would spend as little money as possible in carrying them out. He was a man of wealth in his own right, enough to give lustre to his piety. He was not impulsive: what he had to say came from him always with the same quiet, staccato evenness. When people talked with energy and emphasis he merely watched their faces and features.








At first I didn't get the Christmas connection. For centuries Yule has had a double tradition, the obvious spiritual theme against the background of an event more ancient carnal side, such as the weeklong bacchanalian festival of Saturnalia. There are two hints of this ribald stuff: the first section of your story has the Brit PM looking lasciviously at his mate, and the second section of your story hinted at this with the boudoir contretemps between the French Prime Minister and his (current) bride. Didn't Dr. Kissinger ("Henry the K") say that power was the ultimate aphrodisiac?

But at the end of the piece the part about the greeting card gave the impression that the world leaders are engaged in one upmanship and competition, such as we find in the satiric classic Dr. Strangelove (though not, thank God, with the apocalyptic repercussions of that movie.) As it is, these so-called leaders of the Free World sometimes act like high school kids over trivial matters.

Thanks for giving the LitNet this funny holiday gift. The very best of the season, Manichean.

[MANICHAEAN]

Thanks Auntie for reviewing. I must confess that the "abstract" bit I had reservations about too.

2012 Resolution Number 1: Be more ruthless & if it does not fit / gell, then cut.

The comparison with current day comedians on your side of the Pond was interesting. I think in my own attempts at humour, I was influenced by Evelyn Waugh and his caricatures of those "bright young things" in times since passed. Steve Hunley did a very funny thread some time back poking fun at the influence of the style of different authors on his work. Not sure if you read it.

May I wish you the best for the festive season and a very creative New Year.

M.

[kangels4ever]

Interesting satire, though I can just barely understand the subject matter. This is a spoof of the European Economic crisis, right?

One suggestion text-wise:

Last week had been a shock. Pro-European by conviction, his as yet, partially unconsummated political bed partner had drawn him into this whole bloody British tradition of let's bash the French & the Hun.

Remove the comma after "yet" so the sentence reads:

Last week had been a shock. Pro-European by conviction, his as yet partially unconsummated political bed partner had drawn him into this whole bloody British tradition of let's bash the French & the Hun.

That way, the text does not "trip" over the surplus comma.

[MANICHAEAN]

Thanks kangels4ever. Surplus comma removed.

Yes it's a spoof of the brewing European economic storm. Throw in a few British & French caricatures, mix gently and leave in the oven for about 25 minutes.

Best wishes for Christmas.

M.

[WolfLarsen]

I read the first three parts. I smiled. You're good. Don't bother listening to these others.