The king of this fair isle

The king will flash his fakest smile and salute the crowd. And they, in awe, will scream in chorus their adulation, their overflowing emotion. The king has decided not to decide, the flock will roar, and all is good with the world as surveyed from on high. The minister has been rebuked, a highly derisory rap on his knuckles; stripped but hardly stripped, minister still of all, or near-all, he once oversaw. The king, now a magician with shaman powers, has shown his sleight of hand. He moved a few hats around and, wonder of wonders, more wondrous stuff came forth. A former minister, once also rapped slightly, has now been welcomed back to the fold. An enfolding, all-conquering fold. This is what dreams, silly dreams, or terrible nightmares, are made of. A whip who lost his whoosh, a minister of education who wished a minister to resign but now sits happily with a minister who isn't really a minister. So all is hunky dory. A minister of finance who goes off to lands far away to bring back to our fabled isle good business and investment. And now is laughed at when he dares speak the ugly words (no not Panama hat) of "good governance" of this isle. Keeping things all above board,...

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