You can imagine the way FranORella felt inside, sitting beside the Prince of DumbTown, riding first class to Singapore, while back at home, the ugly blisters Claire and Audrey - seethed with envy, eating rejection from a plate full of exclusion and chewing big fat zeros, after all their sucking up came to naught.
FranOrella relished the schadenfreude and she smacked her lips and lifted her chin looking out the window to her left.
It pays to have friends at the top of the Atlas Network where Fairy Godmothers can make things happen and get things done, thought FranOrella, and nobody would question what her ties to China were as long as Prince Luxon got final cut.
High above the clouds, flying at 38 thousand feet, the royal unreliable carriage sped on it's way across the Tasman Sea while FranORella finally dared to shift her eyes right and steal a glance sideways at Prince Luxon, who she thought was still seated beside her, after he had said, "Hi Fran" to her earlier.
"What the fark!", breathed FranOrella, all that sitting motionless with her knees slightly apart waiting for him to make the first move was for nothing.
"Where is Prince Luxon?", said FranORella, getting out of her seat, and swivelling her head like a saloon door watching tennis.
Prince Luxon, dressed in a blue tight suit with the same boring pin in the same boring place, stood before the twenty four delegates travelling with him, and gave them a "captive audience, spin laden" speech, one that FranOrella was missing up front - in her school girl wallflower daydream.
"What I would say to you, very clearly, is I will be massively strengthening the intensity of the deepening relationship between our two countries, and the measure of my success will be whether they get the message that DumbTown is under new management, incredibly powered up, ready to go, relevant, at the table, ambitious, aspirational, positive and open for business", said the Prince Luxon, licking his reptilian lips like an ambush predator, and looking for someone to point at ...as FranOrella arrived on the spot, just a girl looking for a Prince, as wind swept her hair and light formed a perfect Rembrandt triangle under her eye.
'Change the record", moaned Dame Theresa, "That was what Labour said".
"Yeah who writes your speeches anyway? What about something tangible?", heckled a Hotel Chain Owner seeking to expand business ties, not repeat spin from Jacinda's reconnect tour.
FranORella looked on with horror as Prince Luxon, laughed like a long toothed donkey, caught like a poser in a photo shoot, scrambling to respond ...
"What I would say to you, with the greatest of respect, is I will not be lectured and I'm sorry if we see things differently, but that's a good thing, this trip is about intensity and relevance, I prioritised it, it's the second time I get to meet these leaders after the big bash at Anthony's, so two nights - that's a relationship, not just a one night stand, play that back to me Fran", snorted Prince Luxon pointing at FranOrella.
"Christopher Luxon is pumped to get his "Hustle on" to lead his first business mission offshore as Prime Minister", said Fran as if pure propaganda flowed through her veins, as she blushed and tilted her head sideways, as if she was some kind of Rapper.
"That's my ace, in her place", beamed the Prince clapping the syrupy bullshit, as he looked Fran up and down, like a property investment.
"Let's have some fun and play what makes me incredible again, twenty questions. I'll go first, what makes me incredible? What I would say to you is clearly I was first in my family to go to University where I met Amanda, after I supported the Crusaders as a boy ..."
"Think I'm going to be sick", said Dame Theresa who had seen years of this at AIR NZ and now needed something stronger from the bar.
Suddenly a message from the COCK PIT from the Captain interrupted the narcissism olympics, and Prince Luxon was called to take a special urgent security message in the toilet.
Yes this was an old carriage and did not have an Airforce 1 secret communications chamber - but it did have a chamber lol.
Prince Luxon bounded along the aisle, swinging his arms and running like he was more important than anybody who ever tried to appear important. Boing.
The grand Prince of DumbTown disappeared into the toilet, as FranOrella followed him like a girl still waiting to be seen, invisible, but like a ghost, so close yet so far.
Fran pressed her nosey ear to the toilet door to listen to what the Prince was hearing on his special secret hot line.
"Iran is attacking Israel", said the encrypted message, "Multiple missiles in flight, stand by as a restraint is called for, need statement from nation heads".
"Holy shit", breathed FranORella, "Was this world war three?"
The door flung open and out stepped the powered up Prince of DumbTown, now a poser with a purpose, not just bullshit about intensity and deeper relationships.
"Get out of the way Fran", said Prince Luxon as he pushed past her and made his way to the cockpit.
"Where the fark is he going now?" said Dame Theresa to the Hotel Chain Owner, "Looks like he's shitting himself", replied the Hotel Chain Owner smiling.
"Iran is attacking Israel" hissed FranOrella, "This could be the end"
"Oh God" said Dame Thereasa, "Play that back to me Fran?"
"I'll need to write him a statement condemning the action", said FranORella.
In the COCKPIT, the Captain pulled an irritated face as Luxon had burst into the flight deck, messed with some orange lights on the dash and in a hysterical fit of panicked word salads, asked stupid questions about landing the plane in Canberra as soon as possible.
"Just keep that idiot out of here", said the Captain to his number one, as he kept the plane on track to Canberra where it was heading first anyway.
Back in his seat FranOrella held Prince Luxon's hand, as he looked grey around the gills, like he was going to hurl, as Luxon had no experience with these sorts of things, and did not like being told to fark off or be arrested by the Captain.
Fran's hand clasped his wet squid fingers like squeezing cottage cheese.
Would she be the one, the last one he saw, as they both died, together like Romeo and Juliet in some beautiful tragedy from a slow burning romance - as the world came to an end? FranOrella allowed herself a faint smile, at how Audrey and Claire would never get over that one, but FranOrella's daydream was rudely interrupted.
Prince Luxon ripped his hand free and licked his reptilian lips before staring at FranORella like a middle manager delegator..
"What I would say is where is my press statement FranORella?"
"These attacks are a major challenge to peace and stability in a region already under enormous pressure," said FranOrella automatically as if she was full of it.
"What I would say is we condemn Iran fully and will send troops to the frontline" replied Prince Luxon, not happy with FranOrella's peace and harmony focus when we could be more relevant and ambitious - but most importantly, they would owe him a favour and he could get more votes and likes on social media.
"We are deeply concerned that miscalculation on any side could prove disastrous. "We call on all parties to step down from further retaliatory action. De-escalation is essential?", suggested FranOrella.
"What I would say to you is, I'm starting to wish Barbara had not sent you, was Audrey really unavailable? - said the heartless Prince, crushing unseen cities inside FranOrella's breaking heart as she turned away and looked out the window to her left.
So it was the old carriage touched down in Canberra on it's way to Singapore and Prince Luxon of DumbTown stood on the gangplank waving at workmen having packed lunches at the airport.
"Who is that?", said a workman to the other as Luxon waved at nobody and cameras clicked.
"Some poser on a power trip", said the other munching his sandwich, "Thinks he's important, probably a politician".
Prince Luxon bounded down the stairs and skipped across the tarmac as if he was in a hurry to get somewhere...but soon had to be called back cos he was heading the wrong way.
"Same shit everyday", sighed Dame Theresa to the Hotel Owner as they walked down the gang plank, followed by FranOrella, who now wasn't sure she wanted this puff piece assignment with this absolute pretend Prince of DumbTown, who had no idea about diplomacy or how security worked.
"You can do it", breathed FranOrella to herself, calling upon all her powers of sycophantic creative writing, "Just breathe, and keep on swimming".
Satire - FranOrella and the two ugly blisters - Chapter 2.
G
Comments