By Anthony McIntyre (for Fortnight)

Leeds Castle fitted the peace process like a glove. Described as ‘an English castle as envisaged by Hollywood’, the building’s artificiality synchronised perfectly with the false dawn that forever accompanies our money-for-old rope politicians as they work to prolong the interminable processing that has now come to define Northern Irish political life. Promised sunrises have been plentiful in the peace process, but the vampire political class which has drunk licentiously from the veins of public hope has never yet failed to scurry back to the comfort of darkness at the first sign of the ultra violet rays that might bring the curtain down on its perpetual processing. The only agreement that stirred its interest ahead of Leeds was agreement not to agree.

Please register or log in to continue reading.