Expressions by Sophie Caves

Those faces. I can’t stand them any longer. I can’t look at them anymore. They make me nauseous. They make me want to vomit, to throw up; the process of rejection. I can accept that Italy has gone bust. But these amateurs with their pig-like ferret-like smiles, I can’t stand them anymore. I would pay any tax; I would make any sacrifice to avoid those sneers of the piss-takers that appear every evening on TV, and every morning on 10 pages of the newspaper. “Good-for-nothings” that make themselves out to be statesmen.
Something has snapped inside me; perhaps in many of you. Something has changed. The country has understood that it is being led by people who are incapable and dishonest. Perhaps it already knew that, but it was thinking of a soft change of the guard, as happens in many collapses. The people responsible line up and reach the door, then are never seen again. And you understand and let them go. Tomorrow is another day and it’s possible to think of the reconstruction. Instead these traitors of the national economy that have got the country into debt and denied the catastrophe with such impertinence worthy of the maximum disdain. These oafs are not budging. They are not giving up even a centimetre of their power. I’m not violent. But I try to foresee events. History not only doesn’t stop but it repeats itself. When it meets a wall on its route, it knocks it down. That happened with the Berlin Wall, but even with Louis XVI’s head and the family of the Tsar. Events that, when you look back on them, were easily explainable. Craxi ran away. At that time it was possible to get thieves and find them guilty and induce them to flee. Today the convicted parliamentarians, even when the tribunals ask for them to be arrested, as happened for Cosentino and for Tedesco, they continue to have a seat in the Lower House and to pocket 20,000 euro a month in salary and benefits. But these would be trifles, bagatelles, if they didn’t continue to impose their presence on us.
They have to take themselves out of sight of the citizens, definitively. Let them go where they want, to Antigua, to Hammamet, to Vancouver. I’m looking at Enrico Letta, with that smile of one who has abandoned the priesthood, Calderoli with a face like one who has won a salami at the village tombola and Bossi, Maroni, Bersani, Veltroni, D'Alema, Brunetta with their faces of students who keep having to repeat the year of study with CEPU. They even lift my spirits. They have to go. There’s no need for the judgement of The Economist or of Nouriel Roubini to understand that the political class is the top problem for the country. It has run its course and it smells of mould, of rancid. They are the coprolites of the Second Republic. You see them and you stick your fingers down your throat so that you throw up. By now it’s an issue that transcends politics and the economy. It’s also ethics and morality. It’s an issue of pong. A disgusting stink that can no longer be put up with. And it’s also a matter of aesthetics. Certain faces are repugnant. Italy can collapse. It has happened on other occasions and it has got going again. But this political class has to go without turning back and without exceptions.

Soldi rubati - by Nunzia Penelope I cittadini sono poveri perché i delinquenti sono ricchi {The citizens are poor because the delinquents are rich} Buy your copy today.