The context is known, therefore, without even making great efforts of imagination you could write the chronicle before it happens.
The characters on the field know each other, it’s a cultural battle, because every vacuum cleaner seller has his own style and language. One goes to the onion fair (popular, in contact with the territory, here we work, via the negher! Super-local-medieval), and the other talks about “artificial intelligence” (technologies, the future, which sucks workers ! Super-global-on-Saturn).
So the Renzi-Salvini format of mid-October will be comparable to other television formats. The talent, first of all, because such a considerable clash between egos hasn’t been seen for some time and the chances of it being set in a second grade are quite high. One that says Mojito! And the other with the folders of crime news (only that of blacks) under his arm. It will also be a bit of Temptation Island, however, with the game of seduction, the glances, the jokes, the fluttering eyelashes. The tones are already known, the poses and the moves are already imagined. We know Salvini’s passion for lists with the fingers that matter, half a boxing referee and half a thesaurus. Renzi is known for his fake self-irony and certain theatrical flashes. One will push on victimhood – that they all want him badly, that they hate him, that there is a plot against him -, the other will make the audience understand that all this would not exist if the Italians had not been so stupid as not to understand the his referendum (and every time he opens his mouth on the subject, people run to the kneeler to thank Heaven for having voted no). They will take Bibbiano blows in the face, evabbé
And then there will be room for the generalist leader, my favorite format. Renzi seems to be an expert in every type of sport as long as he wins: Formula One, volleyball, fencing, artistic gymnastics, he’ll play the viola joke; Salvini will make the Berlusca and dictate the formation of Milan (or something controversial, like one of the curve, but still on the loose). They will talk about the children, “as a dad”.
Do not forget, in the Gran Feast of the Predictable, the reaction of the social networks, as the supporters of the “Captain” (ossignùr, n.d.r) and the Renziani Reborn of the Seventh Day (formerly #senzadime) will face each other. The fans, crowded between the TVs and smartphones, will be able to sing their choirs, give report cards, scream “shit!” to the others. Then they will say that their favorite has “paved” the opponent, and here we will see perfectly superimposable languages, the exact same words, on a one-to-one scale, even in syntactic sloppiness and grammatical adventurism. Nothing collective, I recommend, only private style exercises exhibited in public, as is right for personal fans of personal, private parties, exhibited in public.
We remain friends. I leave you but it’s for your own good. I don’t deserve you. I will always love you. See you around. Life goes on. No, I don’t have another one, I want to be alone for a while. I have to reflect. A break will do us good. I will never speak ill of you. If you add up all these beautiful phrases, as if by magic, you will have the sacrosanct reaction: “Kill that asshole”.
Zingaretti’s flattery to avoid being left bordered on the absurd. Boschi was even aired as president of the party, which is like putting the fox to guard the chicken coop. The leader of the Pd group remains an iron Renzian (Marcucci), who remains at the moment, in order to see how things go and decide later, and so do other Renzianissimi, like Lotti. It is like when you leave the camp, but first it is sprinkled with anti-personnel mines that will be activated as needed. Renzi packs his bags and takes away two ministers and an undersecretary, all people who waved their arms and wrote #senzadime, never, better dead, you will have to pass over my corpse, cursed idiots who miss the subjunctives; and then they made a U-turn on the highway.