Imaginary week of the Socialist Party

Every Saturday Louison puts himself in the shoes of the person (or almost) who made the news and presents his logbook.

Monday, May 2

Dear comrades, dear comrades, hello and welcome to this exceptional general meeting. The Socialist Party is talking to you. Don’t look around, don’t ask yourself if the neighbor on the left or the neighbor on the right is saying, the Socialist Party is not a being of flesh, not even a being of light.

The Socialist Party is me, the idea, the perspective, of course, the history, the conquests too, and above all, at least for the moment, a nest of shit. Fasten your seat belts and your dues, we are going through a tumultuous week that will make us mourn the evening of April 21, 2002 with fondness and nostalgia. Or that you weren’t a firefighter during the May 1 parade.

Tuesday, May 3

Dear comrades, dear comrades, hello and welcome to this somewhat less exclusive general meeting. As you know, it’s starting to get a little annoying because of the membership card. The atmosphere is festive, like Segolene Royal in the 2011 primaries, like Benoît Amon in the 2017 presidential election, or like Anne Hidalgo in 2022.

But in all this ocean of a few hopeless things, I would like to remind you, dear comrades, that there are always worse than us. No, I’m not talking about those poor women in the United States who are threatened to go back fifty years when they see the Supreme Court take away their right to have an abortion, even if it’s terrible. No, I’m talking about the voters of the 5th French constituency living abroad, who in a few weeks will also face what we thought we would never see again: Manuel Valls’s ballot.

Wednesday, May 4

Dear comrades, dear comrades, hello and welcome to this almost not too exceptional general meeting. The hour is serious, and Bernard Cassenev has a case. Sorry, Bernard Cazenev broke down. We have become smaller since we left for the suburbs, and we attributed this to the fact that it was less convenient in terms of transport than when we were in Solferino.

But here, you see, it is difficult to behave as if you do not understand why some comrades are reluctant, because Bernard, I think, does not travel by metro too much. So there might be PS in Nupes, I guess we’ll have to stop playing Scrabble before it turns into black pudding and the socialist rose quickly turns into a potpourri.

Thursday, May 5

Dear comrades, dear comrades, hello and welcome to this general meeting, exceptional only in name. Speaking of names, I just saw that the March of the Republic had the most brutal name change in modern world history since Raider became Twix. From now on, you should call it “Renaissance”, even if it sounds like an anti-wrinkle cream.

Too bad we can’t be renamed “YOLO” here in the Socialist Party, because as an acronym that would fit right in with the general atmosphere. Ah, I can tell you that I have a little glottis when I think back to the good years, 1997, when leftists in the plural garnered as much love as the birth of a panda cub. Okay, we weren’t world champions and not a day went by without seeing Edouard Balladur’s face, but honestly, what a time it was.

Friday, May 6

Dear comrades, dear comrades, hello and welcome to this general meeting, as exceptional as my butt is on the chest of drawers. Sorry, I’m tired of the political party. At the fourth peak, there will just be time to turn everything upside down. More or less tumultuous decades of a more or less ruling party, it all turned to powder in less than a week.

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To be honest, I understand Plus belle la vie fans who just found out about the final ending of their series. In both cases, one would think that the ludicrous intrigues, poor acting, and very rough scripts could drag on for years. Even centuries. Rather, a dozen IPCC reports. But no, all the best must come to an end, just like the worst. Proof: Macron’s first five-year term ends tomorrow. The second one starts tomorrow. As in politics, as in cinema, fashion remains in the background. This leaves hope for PS.

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