What if lies came in colours other than white?
I’m sure we’ve all told a wee white one like, “I need to go cause that the postie just came to the door”, or “It wisnae me, it wis ma food”, or maybe even, “Sorry honey, I’ve just missed the train” only to be rumbled by the slurred verbal dunt of a friend, “you want another pint, PINT, PINT.”
What if lies were sunshine yellow? To fill the receiver with hope, possibility and joy. Like Ally McLeod convinced the Scottish nation in 1978 that we were coming home with the World Cup. A dreich country, soaked in self-deprecation, suddenly became one of bright potential and self-belief. Shine, SHINE, SHINE.
What of blue lies? The cool, the calm, the collected, orderly chosen ones. The Lance Armstrong’s Tour de Farce or Wild Bill Clinton, who “did not have sexual relations with that woman”. They stare down the camera, remain steady, keep to the script, repetition, stick to your facts, blunt feelings. Deny, DENY, DENY.
Then there’s fiery red, the emotional, impassioned fight the fight to prove your right. The chosen hue of Brazilianantly bullshitting Bolsanaros, or blatherskiting Trumps. Turn up the heat, amplify the hate. Fire, FIRE, FIRE.
Then there the growth of green, the magic beans. To sew the seed. To fantasise, to soar high, to reach the sky. Meet gold geese and grumpy giants to make believe, to dream, DREAM, DREAM.
Then there’s darkness. The black lies matter. The eery shadow. To turn a blind eye rather than open wide. To pedal evil, hatred, stigma and hurt. To vilify, to deny, to dispute it is a lie, A LIE, A LIE.
It’s the colour of your lies…..