"Good afternoon. Have I reached Boris Dežulović, from the management team of Mr. Marko Perković Thompson?"
"Yes. And who needs it?"
“Viktor Ivančić, from the management team of Mr. Andrej Plenković Samson.”
"Nice to meet you. What can I do for you?"
"I would like to convey to you a message from my client that the Government is ready to organize a reception for our handball players with Mr. Thompson as the main star of the evening. So that together we can screw up that Yugoslav communist at the head of the sect that rules Zagreb."
"That's good news. My client really enjoys singing at patriotic parties like this."
"But on one condition."
“What condition?”
“That Mr. Thompson, when performing, does not sing the song ‘Bojna Čavoglave’ and shout the salute ‘Za dom spremni’.”
"Is it possible to know what the reasons are for this?"
"There are so many reasons, about five hundred thousand, that I don't know where to start."
"Excuse me, but those five hundred thousand reasons why my client should not sing something were already presented to us by Mr. Ivo Sanader Tupson, when he was prime minister. Do you have anything more than that?"
“Six thousand?”
"Well, I don't really know..."
“Seven hundred.”
"We've agreed! Will you give the reasons now?"
“Half now, half after the performance. Just to make sure that Mr. Thompson doesn't perform 'Battle of the Čavoglave' with an Ustasha chant.”
"I think that would be acceptable to my client."
"Then we've sorted it all out."
"Between us, if I may ask, as a colleague to a colleague, why is Mr. Andrej Plenković Samson so keen on my client refraining from singing 'Bojna Čavoglava'?"
"Because at no cost would he want his contribution to the Ustashaization of Croatia to be spoiled by creating some kind of pro-Ustasha atmosphere."
"Well, Mr. Marko Perković Thompson, my esteemed client, does not hide his love for the fascist Endehazija. On the contrary. His very appearance, so to speak, represents a pro-Ustasha atmosphere."
"Of course, we all know that. But if he doesn't shout the Ustasha salute while performing under the auspices of the government, if he doesn't give anyone baby food in mouth", we can attribute the entire phenomenon to the paranoia of left-wing radicals and Yugoslav communists. That is what my esteemed client thinks. The process of fascistization of Croatia will in no way be slowed down, but, on the contrary, accelerated. And it is known that Mr. Andrej Plenković Samson is interested in the in-depth, not just show-off, fascistization of this society."
"What would that mean?"
"My client thinks this way: the key scene that confirms the pro-fascist structure of today's Croatia will not be the appearance of neo-Nazis welcoming Croatian handball players, but the moment when police officers, on the directive of the government, disperse municipal guards from Ban Jelačić Square and prevent them from doing their job. Police protecting lawlessness - that is profitable fascism, not singing nursery rhymes! But there is no reason to call it that. Do you understand, Dežulović?"
"In short, colleague, are you saying that your client is a fucking hypocrite?"
"Absolutely! A man simultaneously provides logistics for the spread of Ustasha and refuses to be accused of supporting the Ustasha. To be willing to violate the Constitution and laws of this country to enable the appearance of neo-Nazis in the city square, and to declare criticism of this act a conspiracy by left-wing extremists, you can only do that with a rich supply of hypocrisy... But let's keep this between us, please, I wouldn't want to be out of a job in my old age."
"Don't worry, Ivančić, I understand your situation... Especially since my client has a similar problem."
"Is it?"
"At regular concerts, he regularly turns Ustasha, inflames the crowd with the cry 'For the homeland, ready', and at a performance produced by the Government - as we have just agreed - he will be tame and meek without any problems. The angry Ustasha wolf from the Arena will turn into the government's poodle on Jelačić Square. There he will show his fangs and growl at the evil Tomašević for carrying out censorship, and here he will zealously indulge in self-censorship in order to lick the Prime Minister's hand, and the Prime Minister's hand in return."
"There are six hundred thousand good reasons for that..."
“We said seven hundred!”
“Okay, seven hundred… Which doesn’t change the fact that he’s a fucking hypocrite.”
"Absolutely! If the public question is asked why he didn't sing 'Bojna Praznoglave' in the Zagreb square, I guarantee in advance that the explanation will be that the handball players themselves made the choice of songs. Such a fucking statement, with which he will defend both himself and the government, is just right for him... But this remains across , please, don't lose my job, a salary is a salary..."
"Don't worry, colleague, I understand everything... Handball players are in charge of absorbing all the political and other waste in this story anyway. They will serve as a universal repository for everyone's base motives. Well deserved, I must say."
"Yes, in that sense, an appropriate climate has been created. Roughly speaking - who are we to forbid our sports heroes and our knights from being fascists?"
"That's what my client thinks: it's not our fault that our top athletes don't shave like Milo Kekin, but rather they harbor Ustasha sentiments. It's just handball!"
"Speaking of which, is it true that a proposal was born among the circle of associates of Mr. Andrej Plenković Samson to give the outstretched right hand in the air a double connotation, to make it a handball symbol, and not just a fascist one?"
"That was Mr. Njonja's idea. It hasn't been accepted yet, although it's still being debated. Which is a real shame, because I noticed that the editor of the HTV news program, as soon as she heard that, was feverishly trying to formulate a breaking news story for the evening news."
“What news?”
"As far as I could make out the direction of the buzzing in that head, it would go like this: At the European Championship in Denmark, the Croatian fascist national team won the bronze medal, and afterwards, at a reception in Zagreb, paid tribute to Pavelić's handball regime."
"And I, my colleague, am most fascinated by all this unreality. To go hysterical with happiness over third place in Europe is much more an expression of frustration than genuine joy. To turn a mediocre achievement into a magnificent feat, a miracle created by the coordinated action of God and Croats, can only be done by a community that is properly exhausted by its own insignificance. Falling into a trance here comes to him as a form of collective therapy. Unsuccessful, of course."
"What will you do, colleague, small nations - great ecstasies. Average sporting success here is compensation for the misery of a below-average existence. To be honest, Endehazija is also glorified as a serious state, and it was a third-rate satellite of the Reich. Among the European quisling creations, it would barely manage to get a bronze medal. Admittedly, with a high rate of gross social genocide."
"I wouldn't be surprised if our handball players lost to the Germans in the semi-finals out of respect for our glorious past."
"And then all of this is spiced up with a noisy combination of politics and music, or rather the music of the government. One no longer knows whether this is political instrumentalization or instrumental politicization of sports."
"Especially when it also serves as a fig leaf. Because Mr. Thompson, without the Ustasha shouts on Jelačić Square, is - let's not lie - something like 'Mala Floramya' in Jasenovac."
"Whatever, colleague, the main thing is that we made the deal. What do we care who is the bigger fascist among the clients. They're holding each other's balls, it hurts our... ears."
"Yeah. We're going to the forest soon anyway."
"It was nice chatting with you."
"If you're in the mood, come by my place and we'll have a drink."
"Very happy. I'll contact the police for the exact address."
Bonus video:
