Lywood had lost his moment. He exchanged looks with Benway who motioned that they should leave. But the prime minister wasn’t done.
“Roger Pollard was a national hero. Arrest that little b***h,” Britain’s prime minister shouted.
The room was silent as a meditation cave. Students, professors, and journalists turned as one once again. Benway shook his head vehemently and looked like he was going to pull the prime minister away from the high table. But he was too late. They were hemmed in by too many people. A second student had pulled a tub of paint from his backpack, popped it open, and jumped onto the long center table of the hall. Without a moment’s hesitation, the young man started running, practically flying towards the prime minister, swilling paint in all directions. Just before he
