By Mcgregor
My father was a tailor. One of my fondest childhood memories involves sitting in his shop — not far from the sea — reading comic books while he stitched together illusions for a living.
Among his professional insights was this cheerful observation: a suit is a lie you wear on your body. Like the superheroes in my comic books, men dressed to hide what they really were.
The irony wasn’t lost on me that my father himself wore a suit daily, playing the English gentleman. Even as a child, I wondered: what monster is he concealing? After watching enough fittings, I learned the disturbing truth — the man in the bespoke three-piece could be anyone. A philanthropist. A wife-beater. Sometimes both, depending on the day of the week.
Cut to: Present-day political theatre.
We now have leaders who’ve mastered my father’s craft. They dress impeccably –power suits, silk ties, cuff links that cost more than your monthly salary — while behaving like hostages reading ransom notes. They’ve been summoned to the imperial principal’s office (diplomatically termed “a strategic dialogue”), handed their instructions, and returned home to perform the most exquisite piece of political tailoring since Orwell invented the Ministry of Truth.
Remember the Ministry of Truth? Those cheerful civil servants whose sole purpose was rewriting history so the Party’s current position always matched the historical record –even when it was the exact opposite of last week’s position? “We have always accepted deportees. We have never accepted deportees. We are magnanimously considering accepting deportees as a humanitarian gesture that was entirely our idea.”
The current deportee kabuki is particularly delicious.
Country A summons Country B’s leader. Country A says, “You will accept these people.” Not “would you,” not “could we discuss”—just “you will”. Country B’s leader sits there, probably wondering if his own suit is bulletproof, nods, flies home, adjusts his tie, and announces: “We have been invited to participate in a regional resettlement initiative, and we are carefully weighing our options.”
It’s the geopolitical equivalent of being dragged behind the woodshed, beaten with a stick, then limping back to explain you fell down the stairs — and expecting everyone to nod sympathetically at your clumsiness.
My father would appreciate the craftsmanship. The lie is perfectly tailored. No loose threads. Not a stitch out of place.
But here’s where the joke gets really dark:Unlike my father’s customers — who at least chose their own humiliations, selected their own disguises — these leaders are fitted for clothes they didn’t order, in sizes that don’t fit, made from fabric they’d never choose. Then they parade around, smiling, insisting the emperor’s new clothes are haute couture.
And we, the audience, are expected to applaud the fashion show. My childhood lesson endures: never trust the suit. The man wearing the cape might be Batman — or he might be the Joker. But the man insisting he chose to wear the straitjacket? That’s a different kind of villain entirely. The kind who thinks we can’t tell the difference between wool and chains.
The real horror isn’t that they’re lying. It’s that they think the suit fits. The Ministry of Truth would be proud. They’ve outsourced the work to the very people being erased from the record. Efficiency at its finest.
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The writer’s father spent his life making people look like something they weren’t. At least he had the decency to charge them for it.
Deportees not included. Tailoring of truth sold separately. Your dignity may vary.
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A brilliant article, but wasted on most Vincentians because they will not understand what it actually means.
I know exactly what it means. Not all will not take time to read and understand. There are few like myself who will.
Brilliant piece