BECAUSE THE CITY was in mourning a canal was created to run the population’s tears over the border. A special tap was installed in every kitchen of their enemies, a silver tap in the shape of a weeping gargoyle. From the gargoyle their enemies could run a glass of cold tears and hold it up to the evening light. The tears of children, of mothers, of fathers, of grandparents. The tears of architects, police, machine operators and accountants. This, it was felt, might instil some sense of compunction and fellow-feeling in the enemies. But the enemies proved so lacking in basic humanity that they used the special taps to mix the tears with their Old Fashioneds, their Margaritas, their Gibson Martinis and their whisky sours. Some retaliation was called for, but first an account had to be given by those responsible for the initiative: what, after all, were they expecting? Those responsible for the taps, their conception, design, funding and installation were expelled over the border where they could see for themselves, in the words of a popular op ed piece, how far their naivety might carry them in the hands of their enemies. And the tears of the exiles were bottled by their enemies, labelled by an award-winning designer and exported back across the border. A product which, when mixed with the tears of the families they had left behind, proved a powerful cleaning fluid, anti-wrinkle cream, liniment and salve.