First Revision of the Trojan Horse - Oops, That's Not the Prologue

Beginning at the beginning of this epic journey into Trump, Russia Brexit

Thanks to all the new subscribers. Welcome on board. This is an experiment in turning over a decade of investigative journalism into an epic poem - not just for vanity, or kicks, but because this may be one of the best ways of embodying the historic times we’re living through - the tectonic shift of Trump’s United States allying with Putin’s Russia, and Brexit Britain caught in the middle. Having investigated this for over a decade, it’s quite a tale. So I’m taking these as my inspiration.

No pressure, eh? No wonder I need your help

But there’s a serious point to this. I am under no illusion that this work will ever match Vergil, Dante or Milton. But all those epic poems rest on Homer’s Iliad, which is essentially an amalgam of folklore and myth built up over the centuries in ancient Greece. I’m not sure we know if Homer existed, but if he did, he certainly drew on the oral traditions of thousands of other anonymous storytellers.

We often forget this with our emphasis on individual genius. Culture, like language, is a communal product. (Only James Joyce could create his own vocabulary - and look how that worked!) Writers need the investment and interaction of their readers, and inhabit a society of other works which they echo and respond to. It takes a society to make a culture. And that’s what I hope to harness with my subscribers - the power of the collective.

Your silent support is great - but even greater would be your questions, comments and criticisms. On the other hand - just knowing you’re going to read this is also a spur to action.

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Not the Prologue

I realised I slightly misrepresented my first post and the stanzas which, three years ago, got this whole thing and the play project going.

Those opening lines have several historical references. The palace on Cape Idokapas is a gargantuan leisure complex costing billions of dollars, which President Putin has built for himself and his oligarchs on the shores of the Black Sea, as exposed by the late leader of the opposition, Alexander Navalny.

The ceremony recreated (which actually took place in Moscow) marks the elevation of former Ambassador to the Court of St James, Alexander Yakovenko, in 2019, after seven years during which he oversaw both the information operations to encourage Brexit, and the first election of Trump. He was made head of the diplomatic school in Moscow, and awarded one of the highest military honours.

They all fell silent. In the main hall of Putin’s Palace

On Cape Idokapas, under white stucco and coloured friezes

(Newly painted to hide the smell of fungus)

The table of guests turned their eyes to the Ambassador,

Just returned from London. Yakovenko glanced at his medal

The Order of Alexander Nevsky, famed in battle,

And raised his glass at the President:

But while the background is contemporary, what drew all my work on this together was a wonderful new translation of The Aeneid by Shadi Bartsch in which Aeneas relates his adventures. You can see the inspiration:

It’s a brilliant Tarantino-esque flashback form, which is actually a staple of Roman and Greek classics. But look above. This isn’t a prologue. It’s Book 2!

So I’m still working out whether there is a full chapter before this. My current section is about ‘follow the money’, and the next obvious cut is to the concierge class in the London laundromat.

But Yakovenko merely implemented the plan set out by Putin and ideologues around him like Alexander Dugin, Wadislaw Surkov and Konstantin Rykov (Putin’s “internet guru”.

So should I set out that plan in a prelude?

That opening chapter would have a different angle. While the current draft ends on the impact of money, the other key theme or weapon is data - Cambridge Analytica, the Troll Farms, voter registration details and psychometric targeting. That’s where Rykov is key and directly links Brexit and Trump.

I will be explaining a lot more about Rykov in my next post. But for now, I welcome any comments, and a simple poll:

A Real Prologue

If I were going to write a prologue, Dante would be a better personal inspiration, and I wrote the following this morning. I have no idea whether I’ll include it in the final work. Maybe you can guide me on that, too. (And if anyone has a better way of formatting verse on Substack, do let me know.)

Ambage

In the autumn of my life, I found the path

Out of the backtracks of fiction and myth

To a simple straight road - tell the truth:

No matter how hard or cryptic,

Hidden in plain sight with a heavy threat,

Or shattered into a thousand shards

To be pieced together bit by bit:

Or far away, like the Pole Star

An absolute we can never reach

But still can orient and guide us down

The narrow road to the dark north.

But enough of that. It’s getting late.

Night is marching from the West.

I must pack my rucksack, sleeping bag,

Some nuts and apples, and walk out,

Holding some old maps in my hand,

Chanting some old songs in my head,

On an uncertain journey. Failure awaits.

But what kind of failure? I am hopeful

Not for holy grails or glory at the end

(Life is not a race across a field -

Who wants to cross that finishing line

First?) But that on the way, I might find

Unmapped landmarks, an inn or two,

To rest with fellow travellers, share our notes

Of dead ends and misadventures,

Dreaming of better directions,

Before we course over calmer waters…

Time is running out. I must catch up.

Join me.