“This is a true story. The events depicted took place in Minnesota in 2011. At the request of the survivors, the names have been changed. Out of respect for the dead, the rest has been told exactly as it occurred.” Welcome to Fargo where all is not what it seems.
The latest series of Fargo dealt with a story as old as time. Brothers, jealousy, death and money. You can’t get any more ancient than that. Yet it was the ending that was so brilliant. The big baddie of the piece V.M. Varga, who is a Brummie of course, is finally caught by a freshly promoted Gloria Burgle who now works for the Department of Homeland Security. Gloria revels in telling Varga the fate that awaits him. Locked up in Rikers Island with no hope of parole. Justice will be duly served. Varga has other ideas. He mocks Gloria for her naivety. He is the grease that keeps the corrupt world we live in turning. He calmly informs her that someone far superior to her will walk through the door, have a quiet word and he will be free to go on his merry way. Gloria isn’t convinced. Varga insists it will happen. The camera then focuses on the door. Who will come through? Will it be Gloria’s federal agents or Varga’s evil overlords? We are left hanging.
I had a similar experience in the eye clinic. Well sort of anyway. Last week I received an appointment to go to the eye clinic on Saturday at 1:30pm. Welcome to the seven day a week NHS folks! Lovely but I had another appointment at the eye clinic in two weeks’ time to discuss my operation. Maybe they had brought it forward? I didn’t recognise the name of the consultant, so I was hopeful.
After the obligatory eye test, it is the eye clinic after all, I sat and like Varga, awaited my fate. When the door opened it was… Mrs T. Great. She ushered me in. I mentioned the operation. She wasn’t interested in the slightest. She asked me about the cancer. I wasn’t interested in telling my story for the umpteenth time. We had reached a stalemate. She wasn’t interested in me and I wasn’t interested in her. Yet there was a chink. She booked a scan to check the nerves in my eye. That could be good and quite useful for the surgeon. I explained I was on holiday the week following the appointment. She snorted. Did I really think the scan would happen that quickly? She said that she would see me in three months’ time. Not before I see someone who can actually help me first.