Rutte: they said: you’re the perfect candidate fully suited for the task. please, you have to do it. this is the last time we ask. he likes you, you could be a family member he even allows you to disagree. don’t you remember? so here I am in his Maga show saying fifteen times ‘yes’ and two times ‘no’. the yes-words sound firm, the no’s subdued. they are withheld when he’s in a bad mood. it cannot be called an exchange of views. it’s walking a tightrope on inadequate shoes. I hear myself saying “he’s fully committed indeed”. I try to believe it but I don’t succeed. In the oval office, the other week while he ranted about Greenland I did not speak. Europe considered my performance too low but I had to protect my standing in his show. I see them now, my statesmen friends all kissing the ring as subtle as they can. offering presents:“an invitation from the king, very special, won’t you take it in?” careful phrases, a laugh about his jokes. fueling the fire, ignoring the smoke. we risk to step under filthy skies into a world infested with lies where flattery is currency, his purse is deep we risk him getting used to a Europe that creeps and I, what role I see for me? A player, a witness, a fool? Or merely what I'm hired to be: A diplomat-servant who keeps his cool.
