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There was nothing more liberating than a closely knit sequence of lies. So this was why people became writers.
The PM shrugged. ‘You leaked to the Telegraph.’ ‘Ours was all true. But yours!’ ‘Ours is true now, Benedict.’
How could a nation do this to itself? It was tragic. It was laughable. Surely the Greeks had a word for it, choosing to act in one’s own very worst interests? Yes, they did. It was akrasia. Perfect. The word began to circulate.
Because. Because that’s what we’re doing. Because that’s what we believe in. Because that’s what we said we’d do. Because that’s what people said they wanted. Because I’ve come to the rescue. Because. That, ultimately, was the only answer: because.
