It’s just one of those days when you wake up and it feels like you’re living in a dictatorship. It’s just a feeling, but it’s nonetheless disturbing. It may even be false, but it seems as true as the vision of a little man holding an entire nation by the balls, with the help of the friends that he slipped in kind of here, there and everywhere and can therefore bend to his will or blackmail whenever he wishes. Then you get another feeling, a persistent one that won’t disappear, when you think about a political opposition that has turned into a whore and no longer even knows the meaning of the word resistance. One that gives everything away for nothing, much like the young ladies used to do once upon a time at Porta Romana. One that gets pleasure from giving, and opposing anything is not in its nature. This concerns you even more when you watch Enrico Letta, who is unmistakably his uncle’s nephew, sprouting forth on the television, or that human relic, Uòlter Veltroni, begging the daily newspapers for an interview (and unfortunately they sometimes grant him one) so that he can roar like a mouse, “Topo Gigio” to be precise (an Italian cartoon mouse - Ed.). You find yourself spending too many hours re-living other times, like the two decades of fascist rule to be precise, a vision that you can’t seem to get out of your head no matter how hard you try. A people with no rights, not even the right to vote for their preferred candidate, or to see Parliament debating a popular law like the "Clean Parliament" bill, or to be able to vote in a referendum like the one on freedom of information that has been rejected by Carnevale, the trial killer. It’s may just be one of those days, but the problem is that it starts all over again the very next day. So you decide to take back the 350,000 signatures that you left in the basement of the Senate. And that is precisely what I’m going to do. Those signatures don’t deserve to be abandoned to the whims of some or other Schifani. A man who is too busy attending the Inter- Bayern cup final game, at our expense, to discuss a popular proposed bill. Those signatures, put down by law-abiding citizens who have had a guts full of these politicians of ours, cannot simply be left to rot in some basement at Palazzo Madama. The more you think about it, the more it pisses you off. The boxes full of signed forms have been lying there since December 2007, since the day I personally handed them over to Marini. Almost thirty months ago now. Today, those requests seem almost naive. Direct voting, a maximum of two terms and no convicted criminals in Parliament. Two years have gone by and every day has been one of those days in which the politicians have continued to not give a damn about the Country’s citizens. Days on which all you are hearing are words that seem to come from beyond the tomb of democracy. Not words, in fact, but bullshit, insults against reason, common decency, words that are simply unbelievable, like: "Europe has been living beyond its means ", spoken by people that have been living well beyond OUR means and our patience for the past twenty years. It’s totally unreal, but it appears to be authentic, real and tangible. Italy is asleep, perhaps dreaming about its lost soul. But the economy will soon come along and open the Country’s eyes.