Incredible! That was a familiar voice in the café. What? No, it couldn’t be. An East African political commentator for Al Jazeerah perhaps, or otherwise diplomatic corp. It did sound like a wind-up set piece. Lots of Oxbridge old boys in those parts too, sons of the forerunners, the political elite. Highly unusual in the café where there were no screens, either large or small. None blaring certainly. Sometimes the men were concentrated on their hand-phones but not often. They came to the café to meet their own, to drink coffee and talk. At the evident curiosity the chap in the tall hat that momentarily looked like a Russian fur motioned to come over. With some more rolled phrases it did need a quick look. Swinging up out of the chair, three paces. The first screen shot caught the audience in their chairs – the white crown of the bantam Tony Tan, the retiring president, who as a patrician type had recently been contrasted unfavourably with the incoming. OMG! What in the holly blazes? Why was there an ear for that propaganda here in this place?... ‘S not propaganda, the chap in the beret holding the phone horizontally declared. –….Madam President…. must remain impartial…. Blimey me. Too right. The voice of the Singaporean PM had not been heard more than two or three times on odd occasions. Some of the other lads had been informed a couple of weeks ago of the upcoming investiture. A Muslim attaining the post of President in a notable Western democracy. Pleased as punch the chap in the beret and wouldn’t hear a word against. ‘S all propaganda. Everywhere…. He was going to enjoy it and didn’t care.
No comments:
Post a Comment