The baying crowd of peasants shout and spit at Emmanuel Macron as he is carted off to the guillotine, his only remark that “everything is all right” and that “there is nothing to see here, please go home” is promptly answered by a farmer throwing a large rotten turnip at his head.
The cobbled streets of Paris make for a rickety ride on Macron’s last journey to Le Guillotine.
Again, the feverish pitch of the peasants rises, undulating much like an ocean storm about to hit the shore violently. An old peasant woman with no teeth lifts her breeches to urinate in the gutter, and no one bats an eyelid. There are more important things at hand, like bringing justice to France from a man who has shat on millions of hard-working citizens.
This is truly the day of reckoning, not only for Macron but for France. For too long the rot has been allowed to set in; the streets are now filled with tents full of migrants mostly from Sub-Saharan Africa and the Middle East, the taxes are too high, and a grave injustice has been committed on the French farmers, amongst many other professions.
“Tout va bien, il n’y a rien à voir ici,” Macron urges from atop the cart, just as a juicy cow-pat lands in his face, fresh from a farm.
The steel blade of the guillotine beckons, and the neatly placed basket under it is calmly waiting for Macron’s guilty head.
“This is all von der Leyen’s fault, I had nothing to do with it!” Macron pleads, this time answered by a filthy rag with god knows what on it.
“Avez-vous un dernier mot?” the executioner asks.
“Non!” is the simple answer as the blade drops to great cheer.