Days of shame

It all started with this encounter. The mayor of Milan meets our World Saviour Muhammad Yunus and declares: we're opening a Hub for social enterprises in Milan. General panic follows in the ranks of yours truly. And the next thing we know, we're invited to meet Her Majesty Herself during a tour she's making on Saturday morning of an exhibition on sustainable architecture.

Describing the scene is really hard. Imagine Versailles at the height of Luis XIV's reign. Once a day, a selected group of beggars is let into the King's parlour, where their pleas are heard. The master of ceremony is the personal secretary, a small kind-faced woman hiding a will of steel. She decides who is to enter the chamber, so de facto decides the destiny of the city.

We join a large group of beggars into the museum, some 25 of us. The mayor makes slightly irrelevant comments on what she sees. Everyone nods emphatically, smiling even if there is nothing to smile about. By the time the exhibition is over, we move into the cafeteria area. The entourage moves a couple of tables close together, as the mayor sits in the centre of the display. A waiter comes up and warns no tables should be moved as the architect would become very upest. Everyone nods politely. Such is the power of design in this city.

The secretary points to us. We are the firsts to go. "Who are you?" - blah blah blah. "What do you want from the City of Milan?" - I really don't know what to answer. It's so obvious it almost hurts: you are opening a Hub and there is one already. Can't you just give us the money and be done with it? I mutter something about synergy and collaboration. She nods and says we should speak to so and so. And before we know it, she's speaking to the next beggar. It's all over in a few seconds.

And I feel dead inside, all my principles crushed. And the circus moving on...