I look at the statue of our first king in the middle of our biggest street overlooking the palace that now houses the prime minister. Our last king was flogged and unceremoniously removed but keeps coming back like a bad case of the fleas. Everyone laughs at him. He is still king but everyone laughs at him. And when I go home or school and read about the kings of old, how celebrated they were and how lauded they are I wonder if they were laughed at too but no one wrote it down. So for posterity’s sake I write this down.