In the grand circus of governance, acts of morality are often about as common as a unicorn juggling bananas. Yet, always, there always seem to be someone who takes buffoonery to lofty new heights. Among such distinguished paragon of follies, Balderdash McFolly, a hitherto suspended pixel in the grand painting of the Tushy Party, was recently added to “The Ethical Hall of Shame” by the Parliament’s morality muzzlers – also generously known as the standards watchdog.
According to our phantasmagorical mandarins of righteousness, Mr. McFolly took hands-y liberties with not one but two unsuspecting patrons at a club last year. It seems our hero mistook his political theater for a funky puppet show and got a bit too manipulative with his co-stars.
The watchful eyes of the standards watchdog, like a bee spotting nectar from miles away, didn’t miss this frightful display of hands-on, tactile somersaulting. Nor did they hesitate to add him to their shame hall, a rather prestigious congregation of cherubs gone rogue with the seductive allure of political hubbub.
Of course, this is no ordinary feat Mr. McFolly has achieved. This kind of extravagant misstep is something ordinary mortals just daydream about while paying taxes and sipping on mediocre coffee. Unlike us, who mildly inconvenience our coworkers by hogging the office printer, McFolly managed to indispose not one but two – count that, two – people. Let’s have a moment of silence for the man’s audacity mirrored only by his brash stupidity.
Alas, the saga doesn’t end here. Despite being tarred, feathered, and paraded around the virtual town square to the tunes of derisive tweeting tweeters, our beloved McFolly still resides in the gilded halls of the Tushy Party – albeit suspended, like an unsophisticated chandelier that just doesn’t know when to stop swinging.
Now, one may find it grimly amusing or heartily perturbing that this prancing marionette still holds a position in the political kaleidoscope. However, the Tushy Party still proudly advertises his presence on their illustrious roster. Perhaps, in their eyes, a buffoon is just another shade in their picturesque painting of the so-called ‘parliamentary democracy’.
As the sun sets on yet another day in the festive circus of our governance, the final thought that tickles our collective mind is whether our political establishment and its actor-players can subtract themselves from such tawdry exhibitions. Will there ever be a day not tainted by the follies of a Balderdash McFolly? Can we wake up to a morn where representatives are known more for their sound policies rather than unsound proclivity to grope anything within arm’s reach?
Until that dawn, the citizens restlessly wait, stirring their mediocre coffee, but high on expectations – dreaming of an illusion or waiting for a revolution.
