‘Shared tears’ was his brainchild. A programme of job selection, it stated that society’s true customer was the one who had the least. The policy required dominant caste members to cry openly with people from minority backgrounds, and, in the process of shedding tears, to give up their positions in society for the benefit of minorities.

Following this, the young zealot conjured an idea of even greater political rectitude – the mandatory foreign guest day. This compelled everyone on the planet to dress once a year in an immigrant costume of their choice, and speak and behave like members of that ethnic group for a day. People already wore costumes for Hallowe’en and fancy dress parties. The entire planet could now dress for a purpose, to learn and share as one. The policy was impossible to oppose. Imagine the rebuke to a dissenting voice. The mandatory foreign guest day became the physical manifestation of the dream of total equality. A great political career was born.

His eyes swept the audience; the Leader understood the laws of speechifying. Years of experience had taught him to build dramatic tension by looking beyond the crowd, the great man seeking the far horizon. Stalin also understood the art. Only novices could not contain their nerves and started speaking too soon. Tancredi leant forward; Stalin sat hunched in his great coat, arms crossed.

‘Brothers,’ he began in a reassuring voice, ‘the Centre Way party seeks to steal the great and caring mantle of centrality from us.’

He nodded as if to confirm this prognosis.

‘We must therefore double our efforts to tread this path with that responsibility of purpose which only our Party can carry.’

The audience murmured their agreement.

‘Today,’ he paused and allowed his voice to echo back to him, ‘I unveil our new manifesto – “At One Together!”’

He smiled his smile of confidence.

‘What?’ shouted Stalin.

The audience stirred, the Leader looked down in surprise at his heckler. This was unprecedented; never before had a speech on Correctomondo been interrupted.

‘Sound bite, cliché,’ spat Stalin. ‘Meaningless notice on a closed door. What does “at one together” mean?’

Tancredi put his hand on the dictator’s arm, trying to calm him.

‘I’d like to begin with sports,’ said the Leader, ignoring the brutish disruption, ‘which are always popular with our people.’ He held out his arms gathering the audience in, then frowned to indicate a change of mood.

He remembered his own sporting career. He had been the fat boy at school, with a round face and square body who always finished last. Once he had been obliged to compete in a hurdle race. He puffed up to the first jump, but was unable to get airborne. His schoolmates roared with laughter as he kicked out a fat leg, toppled the hurdle, then skipped over it like a girl. His parents were unable to meet his eye at the finish line. Now he would put everything right.

‘For too long, sports have favoured the spectacle of the able-bodied over the handicapped, an unequal condition.’