How to save a Legacy

Sitting here, listening to The Fray croon on about How To Save A Life, I can't help but think of my friend Patos.
The tragic figure he cut on election night, looking much the part of the humbled and defeated trying to stand tall in the face of immeasurable loss, I am reminded of another recent tragic figure, Saddam Hussein no less. The resignation on both faces as the reality and inevitability of the end sinks in all the way shows a mortal man, broken by a life of trying to be so much more than human and ending up almost less.

I write this for you Patos, because I for one don't want to seem ungrateful.

I remember the high points of your tenure, the people you appointed to help sail the magnificent ship of state into vision 2020. Calder Hart. A giant of a man. That name will stay with you forever, the way Johnny O' seems to be forever linked with Eric. Calder Hart. So much more is going to be said of him in the near future I think we should wait before we say anything more.

I am reminded of Mr. Hunt's assurance that you can't put a price on a flag, his version of national pride. Apparently you can Mr. Hunt, apparently you can. That comes to about fourteen seats in Parliament; will that be cash or card?
Patos boy, where did it all go so wrong?
For a while there you were flying so high with the big boys, welcoming the world to your doorstep, never guessing that the lease would so soon be up; how you strutted on the world stage like, well like a banana republic dictator. Was that the look you were going for?
Your legacy will be a legacy of excess you know, no one did more than you in such a short space of time in the people's interest and yet to have them turn on you in the end.

The word ungrateful comes to mind. Ignore that Rubadri guy, we don't need history, we need symbols, and you KNEW that. All the best symbols petrochemical dollars can buy. I watched in awe of your eminence even as the artists rebelled against the house you were building for them, so you promptly ignored them. I agree with you, though, and i was telling people; once is foreign white people and chinee people handling it, our business fix, but nobody was taking me on.
Sometimes people just don't know what's good for them. I watched Uncle Errol, beaming with so much pride there was a skip in his step. They didn't get it I guess. Minshall called the building copulating slugs. Ungrateful emmy award winning artist. Steups.
And those people in St.Anns with their stupid playing field. Didn't they know you needed extra parking to make the house into a palace?
Ah Lord they was giving pressure. But I must say I was impressed with the way you dealt with that; it made you look more statesman like. Change the plan, adjust the outdoor stage design and use it to make a church in the bush instead. Somebody needs to convert all those lajablesse and douens and it might as well be you. I thank you for the effort, soucouyant need religion too.
For me I think the high point of your tenure was the blimps. I for one never saw a blimp in real life and was happy to see it. Never mind I didn't understand what it was for, Martin Joseph did, and I trusted him because he was doing such an excellent job on the crime management, the damn media again, harassing a busy man with questions about results.
Steups,

So here we are, with new plans and new adventures ahead of you.
A vacation maybe, visit old friends, make new ones, settle into the new role of defendant, because I am sure those ungrateful bastards are going to come and want to ask you questions.
Never mind, court houses are air conditioned and these matters are polite affairs.