i harbour secret imaginings of social masochism and retribution. with unprecedented religious openness, the old adage comes karmic and the third shall be first. so maybe someday some african nation will impose a protectorate and a hut tax on whitehall. and maybe one day my compadres in delhi will de-industrialize the docklands. so we should fear their frustration, their khmer anger, shored against ruin. we should heed their terrain, their himalayas shored against collapse. chinua achebe, let's start pointing fingers at a room of caucasian men, somewhere in EC1. ho chi minh, here come the americans again, this time armed with cameras and arrogance in place of their mp5s. steven biko, what happened to soweto? your disposessed millions have retained their apartheid slum. wealthy millions, here comes an army of landmine refugees, in limbless solidarity, come to reclaim their positive equity in kensington and knightsbridge, chelsea and fulham. and is their still time to disencircle bagdhad, and yet tell a jingo story about the good times we had? forty-five minutes at the top of this skyscraper, a thousand feet, it's not enough.

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