I’m in the Agora waiting my turn,
The sun’s bearing down and it’s starting to burn,
I cast my vote straight into an urn:
Chucking him out is the way that he’ll learn!
The summit of the Acropolis seems like it is level with the endless blue sky. The heat is so strong it feels as if my skin might decide to simply fizzle up into flame any second. The whole Agora is fit to bursting as I push my way through the worst of the crowds outside the rope barrier of the voting area. There are thousands of us, both inside the cordon and beyond – all swarming like bees – and here for one reason alone: to choose who will be thrown out of the city.
I have scratched my name on a broken piece of pottery and handed it in. I have cast my vote to decide who will be evicted… and as I mop my sweaty brow and survey the summit of this great, noble Athens, a grin erupts across my face. I’m beaming so hard my cheeks are starting to ache. Now, against my will, my feet are starting to tap…
Despite the crush, everyone around me is beginning to part. The people are moving aside to form a natural circular dance floor. An orchestra, perhaps bizarrely, starts to play ‘All My Loving’ by the Beatles. Goodness, I seem to be leaping into an extremely gleeful jig:
Went to Oxford and Eton,
But soon you’ll be beaten,
Six thousand can now banish you,
And when you’re sent off,
End the tyranny of toffs,
So we’ll see London starting anew.
Boris Johnson end this evil blue,
Boris Johnson I will evict you.
This morning I woke at 5am drenched in moisture. Matted hair was plastered to the pillow and my heart was racing. You see, dear Partisans, the story I just recounted was nothing but a dream… none of it was real. Yet – maybe, I can’t help believing – it was an omen? Not necessarily an omen that Boris Johnson should be ostracised from this fair city of London, but perhaps a sign that there is more than one way to play at politics.
Radical Demokratia may have been a mad affair approached the ancient Athenian way. Both before and since, it has had its detractors. Of course, this ‘democracy’ was only open to ‘pure blooded’ Athenian men. Women didn’t get a look in and even forgetting that… the slave population – who did all the work – more than doubled the enfranchised number. But this was the society that built the Parthenon, produced comedy, tragedy and so much incredible art.
Now imagine the power of ostracism today. This was the Periclean measure for eliminating an opponent by simply banishing them. But beyond nefarious political tactics the potential is incredible. Picture the world if you could simply exile a politician for ten years providing you had enough supporters. It was only 6,000 back then.
I’m not saying it is the right way to conduct affairs… but it is another way. I’ve got my thinking cap on. I’m scratching my head as we speak. And I’m hoping to have some kind of answer for you very soon:
Cast my vote, I’ll evict you,
A democratic coup,
London won’t always be this blue,
And then while you’re away,
I shall come out to play,
So I must bid Mr Johnson adieu,
Boris Johnson end this evil blue,
Boris Johnson I will evict you,
Boris Johnson, Boris Johnson, shoooh,
Boris Johnson I will evict you.
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