Saturday, 11 August 2007

The Belgian Ambassador

The Belgian ambassador was sat in his study engaged in activities that can be accurately be said to consist merely of sitting in his study. He patiently & to all observers' eyes(admittedly there were no observers) contentedly waited, wondering if inspiration would strike the author of his existence & change this state of uninteresting passivity. However this outward picture of satisfied ease was the mask of a consummate actor & hid an inner dissatisfaction.
"Is this what great literature is made of?" he asked his worthy self. "Simply sitting, without even the company of a friendly other with whom one might engage in sparkling & cynical conversation? I am the Belgian ambassador, for goodness sake. My presence within the hallowed halls of the linguistic art form that is literature is generally an affair of deliciously heightened tensions; of an order of perfect balance tottering on the brink of dissolution into enticing, but perhaps lurid darknesses. Of alliteration & metaphor. Of infinitessimal shades of subtle transformations. And yet here I am, a man of import, refinement & intelligence, simply sat in his study, pointlessly. No phone calls, no elliptical manuscripts that have mysteriously come into my possession. Nothing. But what can I do?"
Nothing was of course the answer. And so we leave the Belgian ambassador sitting in his study.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

is that by Samuel Beckett?

Andrew said...

How dare you?! A character such as is the Belgian ambassador was beyond the imaginative means of Becks.