Simon Le Bon Chronicles 8 – America First

My righteous dictatorship in Britain was in full bloom: I was an unrelenting, visionary and hard-working empress, I restored law and order, put the British nation back into line, and started a European war in order to kill Steve Bannon, who was working on a world conspiracy here. My vest as the highest military commander was littered with the highest honors, with the only collateral damages being that of France and Greece being erased from the landmaps. Bannon got killed. But my path to immortal glory was accompanied by a permanent chatter from overseas, with the orange nihilist in the White House continously humiliating me by calling me a ‘very good friend’ on his presidental tv-show. At the same time he had ordered my assasination. I clenched my fists in nuclear rage.

At nights I had the most beautiful time of my life. Revolutionary Guards had arrested Duran Duran on the pretext of being unpatriotic enemies of the state. While the other band members rotted in re-educational concentration camps, Simon Le Bon was led into my private chambers. After the first anger and fury of being kidnapped and robbed of his previous life, he was eventually happy to be alive and also became addicted to giving me sexual pleasure. He would not understand why at the height of my sensual plasures I would scream out the names of American presidents. I was good to my Simon, but I also trained him like a Pavlov’s Dog, as I had chosen him to be my novel secret weapon of unprecedented power.

Of course he also became my court musician, and he was forced to perform my favorite song 24/7. A Moroccan shaman and snake charmer was flown in and gave Simon’s flute playing in ‘The Chauffeur‘ an alchemistic finish. Before bedtime, I would read him a psychokinetic version of my favorite legend, the Pied Piper of Hamelin. Dr. Laurel, a CIA defector who was a specialist on psychological warfare and MK Ultra programms, made sure that Simon obtained the same powers as the rat-catcher in these reading sessions, making him able to lure away masses with his flute playing.

After 4 months, Dr. Laurel declared Le Bon’s training as complete, and after a few cadaverous test-runs where he drowned the residents of London and Cornwall, there was no doubt about the effectiveness of his powers. That night I claimed solitude and stepped out on my palace’s balcony at the British shores. I was ready to enter the next phase of my divine task. My unfathomable gaze wandered around the nightly Atlantic, fixing the horizon in the direction of the coordinates that would take me to my next destination: Washington.

On a cold and misty morning in February we arrived in America by a vessel, because I wanted to feel like the pilgrims. The occasion of our journey was an invitation to the opening ceremony of the Olympics of Democracy announced by Donald Trump earlier this year. The only participants were the three pillars of western democracy: America, Saudi Arabia and Israel. I had applied to be a torch bearer, which was internationally perceived as a humble gesture of a supposed political course change. Simon was scheduled to perform ‘The Chauffeur‘ during the first commercial break.

After the first three disciplines, we were already completely exhausted and our heads twisted: woman-stoning, drone-throwing, apartheid-system-building. All three being humiliating concepts for a great and honorable leader like me, but the masses were hysterical. I shook my head in disbelief and despise- there was a lot of work waiting for me here. Security escorted Simon onto the stage while I checked my watch and raised a toast, smiling at the president.

How beautiful my Simon looked, illuminated by the spotlights. What a caring and loving man he was, making me a better person with his innocent smile and pure heart… these were my thoughts when Simon starting to play his flute 4 minutes into ‘The Chauffeur‘. The hysterical masses immediately muted. From my seat I looked calmly around at all those faces, the expressions of which had changed from stupid to hypnotized. The international television stations were now given the true spectacle when the masses rose and followed Simon, first with glances, then with steps. He lured them out of the arena onto the streets of Washington D.C.
Pentagon, White House, CIA headquarters – wherever he passed by, more people joined the caravan, attracted by the psychokinetic sounds of his flute play. When we reached the shores of Anacostia River, it were millions dancing themselves into the river and drowning.

I was now the new leader of America. I kissed Simon passionately.

The next few months were tough. Washington had fallen, I declared New York as Sodom, Hollywood as Gomorrah, and moved the capital to Detroit, making Iggy Pop my Vice-President. Eventually, the New Americans started to hail me as their saviour. Little did they know- to transform this country and its people without too much bloodshed was the biggest challenge of my life.

As always, Simon tamed my fury in our gentle and intimate hours, whispering my anger away, releasing my tensions with tender touches.

The New Americans owe him a lot. Simon tamed my violence.

by Saliha Enzenauer