The groupies’ delight

A whole nation has now become obsessed by a hysterical Austrian provincial with penetrating, flashing eyes, who dances on his podium like a raving epileptic. His flaming eyes dart around, as he gesticulates in a frenzy to his fawning disciples, like an ill mannered baboon. The coarse and repulsive redneck dribbles a continuous torrent of diarrhoea, fuelled with lies, as foam drips from his open mouth and spills onto the gutter, where he came from. This hateful tyrant succeeds in turning millions of people into a race of heel clicking, robotic, ‘Sieg Heil’ slaves. To keep control of this circus the actors are put in fancy dress, and made dance to the music. This is super symbolism at its best, fuelled with a massive overdose of martial music, incessant parades and rallies, decorated with rows of flags, miles of bunting and pictures of the Corporal’s face, staring at you from every lamppost. The range of uniforms is mind-boggling, with almost everyone from rat catchers to vermin exterminators dressed up like Field Marshals. The secret service is exempt, but they have a penchant for long black leather overcoats, which doesn’t make them very secret. This is paradise on earth and a groupies’ delight.