Monsieur le Fournier has appeared on the scene –
his terminus is a mystery; and so is where he’s been.
He drives a Mercedes S-Class – a pristine black Saloon,
with tinted windows, a burnished grill – an image of tycoon.
His income seems nefarious – money is superfluous,
He’s polite and smart, yet humourless,
No-one meets his gaze – yet to all this he’s immune.

Monsieur le Fournier always dines alone,
insists on a corner table to rule out the unknown.
People are never with him, but rather in his presence,
the consummate professional – the model of quintessence.
He’s meticulous and fastidious, wears nice suits with shiny shoes,
oozing an air of confidence – a false bearer of good news.

When he looks into the mirror, Cary Grant he does not see;
he does so as little as possible, for he thinks 'that's not me'.
The person who looks back at him is like a perfect stranger,
yet doesn’t look the way he feels – it reflects someone of danger.
But this imposter is the one he faces through his glass,
he adjusts his tie and tries to smile - or something that will pass
scrutiny or similar - but it's out of reach for him
for the result it gives is a fix-eyed stare with a rictus, dead-eyed grin.

(While others have mistaken him for a priest)
le Fournier’s confused about the Middle East.
For he is a foreign delegate who does not multi-task,
a bland vacant appearance paints his laconic wary mask,
living a life of decadence vying with some trite indifference,
he then orders liquored coffee hinting unkind louche belligerence.

We support the Iraqi nation against the Islamic State,
but Saudi Arabia who we like, supports IS – not great.
Although we don’t like Assad the Syrian number one,
neither do IS, so that's not too much fun.
We don’t like Iran, but they also back Iraq who dislike the Islamic State.
Thus, some of our friends support our foes ... he thinks he's got that straight!
And some of our foes support our friends, so that works out quite well.
Fournier's boss had told him so ... it's clear as a bell.

Some of our rivals are fighting others too: this is what we need,
but we don’t want our nemesis to win – as where will that all lead?
If the people we want to defend are in the end defeated,
it may well lead to scenarios that are continually repeated
for they might be replaced by people we like less
which would leave us all to rue the day with an even bigger mess.
And all of this was started by us crossing a border
to drive out absent radicals – bnag... bang out of order!

Monsieur le Fournier is a pilgrim on a journey,
yet faces a dilemma just like a top attorney:
a paradox for our species that both blesses and does burden,
aware of possible infinity yet knowing that death is certain.
Life was a funny thing – a pulsing vibrant wave,
that engulfed him through this triumphal march towards his open grave.
For life has a way of making the foreseeable to succumb,
and the unforeseeable, paradoxically, that which life becomes.
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