Act I. Sc. I A living room.
When shall we three meet again
In thunder, lightning, or in rain?
The march will start at the break of dawn
Before a game of two-up is won.
“And at the going down of the sun…”
Where the place?
Up on George Street.
There to meet Clover Moore.
Sc. II An office.
SPENCE [Dictating an email to his PR stooge]
“The Dalai will have his day. I blame the press.
We love human rights. Enough protests!
Yours sincerely, Michael Spence.”
Sent to all! I’m relieved.
Like sailors who did still cling to the wreck –
We our own selves drowned.
I can finally stop replying to these letters
Of complaint, with stock responses.
Remember the time, Mike, we cleaned off the rainbow chalk
And said it was by accident. It feels like that.
Times a hundred thousand.
Sc. III Pyongyang. A meeting chamber.
KIM JONG UN
What news hast thou, O Ministers?
The South Koreans leave Kaesong, anon.
And our nationwide 3G network is a success.
KIM JONG UN [Laughing]
Those Yankees now dread their coming doom.
“Let’s talk nukes! – with Kim Jong Un and 6 others At The War Room.”
But I’ll say this, sir: there’s an awful tedium
When ads pop up for Spotify Premium.
So, come my glorious, global revolution
I’ve made my first official resolution:
Spotify guy’s head on a plate, a plate, a plate.