Xavier Leret

I’ve just written a letter to Tony Blair. I was going to write another chapter of my Jimmy story, but I am so annoyed, after watching Channel 4′s Dispatches, by this fiasco in Iraq, annoyed by the lies, the deceit and the corruption of my government and its collusion with this evil American administration. I shouldn’t think he will read it. His advisors will bin it. And even if he did he will discount it – his conscience clear and if it niggles it won’t get the better of him til the fantasy of the after life.
Dear Tony Blair
Having just watched Channel 4′s Dispatches on how billions of dollars of Iraq’s money has been lost, stolen and generally mis-managed over the last three years I am more than a little distressed. Hospitals do not have resources to treat people. People of all ages are dying unnecessarily. I am at a loss as to why. Perhaps by now I should be accustomed to feeling this way, it is after all three years since the invasion took place. It is longer still since that dreadful period of lies and more lies which sent us on this road. Yes, by now I should be numb to this, yet I cannot soothe my conscience because I voted for you.
I voted for the king of liars, a man who somehow can persuade that he is honourable, that his intentions are honourable, that he means well whilst all the time he colludes with the shadows. This is what you have done. If deceit is the foundation of a character then there can be no honour, Mr Blair. If lies are the basis for a war for democracy and truth, then only chaos will result.
I am not a religious man, I do not believe that God will be my judge. I do not defer payment for my actions into a time after my death, it shocks me that you do. I believe that when we die we die. There is no final judgment, no eternal life in which we account for our discretions. This is our lot, this one life, this one life that is being robbed of these people suffering your war. And please don’t remind me what a tyrant Saddam was because our governments colluded with him, lied alongside him and profitted by him. In many ways you are no better than those misguided individuals strapping bombs to themselves. We dismiss them as dangerous fantasists, we claim that their God does not exist, that their God is in fact peaceful. Fellow believers jump up to shout that their vision is misguided. And you through your desire to bring about this unjust war have ordered the deaths of thousands. You insulted me when you claimed that God will be your judge. Why am I surprised at you, you are in bed with a ‘creationist’? Give these people their lives.
And then last week the lies continued. Does it not strike you as strange that in a week when over 400 people are murdered in sectarian violence your government can announce that the situation on the ground has improved enough to enable the withdrawing of troops?
Each one of your lies painfully reminds me that I voted for you. Each lie whips my conscience. To quote Bunuel, “Thank god I’m an Atheist.” You Tony Blair, man of faith, are a liar. A liar.
Last week, on a trip to Rome, I was reminded that Rome was always fighting some conflict in the name of Roman Peace, Pax Romana. I stood looking at Titus’ Triumphant Gate and the carvings of the sacking of Jerusalem’s temple. How painfully current it was. You have set us on the road to an eternal war. That American clown has put a red nose on you. God won’t judge you, but history will.

This began life in a play The Fantastical Adventures of Leonardo Da Vinci, which I wrote for my friend Phil Morle when he was working in theatre in Australia before he became CTO for Sharman, developing Kazaa and things. This play was commisioned by the International Festival Of Perth. I later re-wrote it and re-named it Renaissance, this version toured throughout the UK in 2000. Anyway this little story is a frivolous tale that was written to explain how light moves, contrary to common belief of Renaissance Europe, that light was projected from the human eye.
In the play Leonardo developed this big performance for the Medicis who were playing host to the Pope. The historical Leonardo Da Vinci did in fact create these amazing masque balls which were extraodinary visual extravanganzas. This story was one of the sketches for that party scene which would outrage the puppet Pope. I suspect that I am trying to explain too much, as this story stands on its own.
The Light King
There was once a King who was so inspired by light. He would spend many hours of the day contemplating it. It would flood over his skin, dazzle him with wonder and when it was cold it would warm him.
On a particularly fine day, when the breeze was soft, an ambassador arrived at the court.
The King was, as always, naked that morning, his soft golden body taught with pleasure, his member saluting, upright, with a bright red imperial helmet. The King saw him enter at once and cried out – “I am being lapped by waves of light! It’s extraordinary, really quite extraordinary.”

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Leonardo is waiting for Marcello to die, his bag of instruments for the dissecting of bodies lies at the foot of the bed. The old man has no hair. His eyes are dark and sunken. His limbs are taut and thin, his skin wrinkled leather. Opposite his bed is a mirror, which distorts the old man every time he moves. It could be a torturer forcing him to shrink and stretch. It emphasises his suffering. Marcello is dying with energy.
Leonardo, a man in his thirties, behaves as if he is simply waiting for his friend to leave on a long journey.
Salai, a lad of some fifteen years is holding a lantern. He watches silently.
When Marcello speaks he spits through the pain, “make sure you don’t start without cleaning me. I have seen the mess the bowels make of the dead. My body is a good body. It has worked hard for me.” For a moment there is boiling water in his belly. The mirror racks him, as his form contracts. When the pain has stopped he needs to know about his body. “Will it tell you my story?”

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