LAGARDE THE CYNIC

THERE MAY NO DOUBT be good reasons for Greeks to be outraged and insulted by Christine Lagarde’s statement suggesting that they are less than law abiding. Indeed, the announcement by burly Evangelos Venizelos, the leader of PASOK, that Greeks are honest and that the history of Greece is one of decency, aestheticism, art and literature may ring true today even on the sidewalks of Athens, where thousands of pot-bellied, bare-chested men sit getting drunk and spitting pistachio shells all over the place every day.

YET AS A RENOWNED INTELLECTUAL and someone well versed in current and past political and social philosophy, people often come up to me and ask, “David, why is Greece doing so badly and why is that fruity French lady in charge of the IMF saying that Greeks are dishonest?”

THE SHORT ANSWER IS THAT BOTH political figures are correct. The history of Greece is indeed a source from which we may take lessons about the Greece of today and Lagarde does have a point. The issue revolves around what part of Greek history and philosophy we should cast our eye upon.

THE COUNTRY’S MOST RECENT contribution to European culture upon which I have cast my eye was the song “Aphrodisiac” by Eleftheria Eleftheriou, described by at least one commentator of the programme as the lady with the most “approachable” rear end in the competition; but Greece’s history is replete with excellent examples of figures that should be followed closely.

DIOGENES THE CYNIC (404 BC – 323 BC) was a major figure in Greek and European philosophy. His father was a minter of currency, and somehow Diogenes “debased” it, and was then punished with exile. He ended up in Athens, where he decided to set himself up as a moral leader, seeing that Athens was a corrupt society. He took it upon himself to show extreme austerity, seeing true virtue in being poor. He thus begged for his food and slept in a bathtub in the street.

THE MOST FAMOUS OF HIS MANY public actions was when he wandered around Athens for days and days on end carrying a lamp. Whenever anyone stopped him and asked what he was doing he would reply that he was looking (in vain) for an honest man.

MY TOP PICTURE SHOWS THE PAINTING “Diogenes Looking for an Honest Man” (c. 1780)(probably) by JHW Tischbein, one of the remarkable moments in Greek history that Greek philosophical historians apparently choose to ignore, and the second one, “Diogenes” by Jules Bastien-Lepage (1873), depicts what most Greek people will look like if Lagarde has her way.

HUMPTY DUMPED

“ALL THE KING’S HORSES and all the King’s men/ Couldn’t put Humpty together again” we are told in the nursery rhyme about the fact that once an egg is broken it can’t be put back together. It has an interesting parallel in the statement made by Lord Wolfson, referring to breaking up the Eurozone as “unscrambling an omelette”. He has backed up his belief that this will be impossible to do safely by offering £250,000 of his own money to anyone who can come up with a sensible plan to do so.

FURTHER, THE NEWS THAT HOME SECRETARY Theresa May is drawing up contingency plans to prevent mass migration to the United Kingdom after the collapse of the Euro, announced today in most major newspapers, coupled with the statement by the ever-tanned Christine Lagarde that Greece has “had it good for years” and now it is “payback time”, have together more or less pulled the plug on the future of the European Currency, if not on the European dream itself.

IN ADDITION, THE ADMISSION by the Spanish government yesterday that it dreads a victory in Baku in the European Song Contest tomorrow, as Spain does not have the money to stage the final next year shows that there is not really any point to Europe anymore now that the highest accolade of our culture means nothing.

FRANCE’S THREAT TO REINTRODUCE border controls on its Italian frontiers may also be a sign of the inevitable break-up of the freedom of movement within the Schengen countries, and so, all in all, unless the Germans suddenly come up with the money to pay for the southern European countries to carry on doing nothing for most of the year, turning up late for work and clocking off early when they do work, enjoying an average of 18 bank holidays with extra days taken off when these holidays fall on a Tuesday or Thursday and receiving a full month bonus in December and August I suppose that the game is up, new currencies will be brought in and the only way up will be constant devaluation.

HOW DID THIS ALL GO SO WRONG?, people may ask. How did this wonderful, romantic notion of countries united in their common aim of freedom, truth, justice and equality, based on growth and respect suddenly turn into a nightmare of bitterness, mismanagement and failure?

THERE ARE MANY LONG ANSWERS to this question, but the short one is this: when Europe decided to let itself be run by a parliament of second-rate, second hand political failures who, having been unable to cut the ice and get elected in their own countries, ended up being nominated for the European Parliament. And then the European Parliament itself, with the wisdom only possible to a bunch of useless incompetents, “nominates” two of the most representative fools among it, Humpty Dumpty von Rompuy and Joseph “Stalin” Barroso to run its policies. These two incompetent has-beens then nominate a disgraced Italian economics “expert” to run the European Central Bank, supported by a failed Portuguese finance minister, and, as one can see, the rest is history. Or rather future.

(My photo shows the President of Europe making one of his stirring, rousing speeches)

EURO 2012

LIKE A GOOD MANY PARENTS, I am indulging my younger son in his desire to collect the Panini stickers to be inserted into his album of the Association Football national teams involved in the forthcoming UEFA Nations Challenge Cup competition, this year held in the unitary state of Ukraine and the Republic of Poland.

THE MAIN REASON BEHIND my attitude is somewhat like my approach to having had him baptized; it is a matter of social insertion. The youngsters at his schools collect these badly-photographed stickers of footballers who will never play in the final competition, as well as omitting some who will, and the exchange of “swaps”, with the ensuing bargaining process, will bring him into contact with the basic rules of capitalism. Or so I had thought.

ON THE ONE OCCASION when he took a similar album to school he returned minus most of the “star” players from the teams of Everton, Liverpool and Manchester United. I, shocked, pointed out that this was not the intention of the game. “I gave them,” he told me, “to other children. Who needed them.”

IF THIS IS THE SORT OF COMMUNISM allowed to go unchecked in our schools nowadays then I can easily see why our countries are on the road to ruin, which brings me to the real “Euro 2012”.

IN THE FUTURE, when one refers to this competition, “Euro 2012”, the term will be clouded in acknowledgement to the events of 2012 which led to the debasement of and ultimate eradication from our collective shopping experience of the chirpy “Euro” as a spendable monetary issue.

IT IS MORE OR LESS COMMON knowledge now that Germany is having Deutschmarks printed in secret at mints in Switzerland, Greece is producing new Drachmae, Portugal is soon about to come forth with a totally new currency, still shrouded in secrecy, and that the Euro is doomed, but for many people the “Euro” may still be saved.

AND THE ONLY WAY THIS CAN HAPPEN is if the England team play to the best of their abilities, thrashing all those in their way and managing (I do not know the logistics of the competition) to come face to face with Germany in one of the later stages of the tournament. The toss-up before the game, which could easily be the final tie, should be over whether Germany accepts the free market economy or the United Kingdom leaves Europe altogether. And then it will probably go to penalties. (My photo shows England warming up before the European Union)

PLEASE RELEASE ME

BIZARRELY, THERE ARE MANY PEOPLE who pooh-pooh the Eurovision Song Contest, believing it to be of little or no interest culturally and much less so in musical terms. While I respect people’s opinions and understand that de gustibus non est disputandum, it is plainly beyond me that sensitive and sensible souls will not see this annual feast as ranking on the same level as the Queen’s speech on Christmas Day, the Football Association Challenge Cup Final Tie and the Grand National Steeplechase at Liverpool.

IT IS NOT THAT ON THIS OCCASION we collectively celebrate our European heritage but more the fact that British people, and more specifically English ones, can see what an unholy, corrupt, ramshackled, pasteboard and gaudy mess Europe is when one gets down to the nitty-gritty.

THERE IS NO MORE ABSURD, tacky, trashy, soulless occasion that one can see for free, on one’s own television set. Such a show of sub-vaudeville, cross-dressing, tight-satin-trousered, over-made-up bad-glam would normally cost a fortune in most major capitals in Europe, and a visitor to such an establishment would surely be risking being accosted by burly security guards, pimps, drug-pushers or people selling contraband sunglasses when one went to witness such an event.

BUT THE MAGIC OF TELEVISION brings us the wonder of the spectacle live, once a year, directly into our own homes. Although it is still five days away I have started “eyeing up the talent”, as the common folk sometimes say, in order to place a bet on the winner.

AS ALWAYS, IT IS QUALITY of the lyrics which attracts me, and I thus predict (and am betting serious money) on the following top three due to the qualities of the songs:

1. Loreen “the Vampire Donna Summer”, Euphoria, (Sweden), with the clever lyric “We’re going up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up”. A cert. Never has a song been such a guaranteed money-winner.

2. Engelbert “the” Humperdinck (UK), with Love Will Set You Free. How can anyone vote against a 76 year-old man who sings about making love to women? (Perhaps we should wait and see who actually does vote against this; but it won’t be any men)

3. “Diamond” Nina Zilli, L’ammore è Femmina (Italy): “You leave me crying at home while you play pool” (a classic lament in the Italian neo-realist style).

ANYONE WHO MAKES MAJOR MONEY betting on these three in this order will perhaps remember me and my sagacious predictions. Donations to the contacts above. (My photo shows the winner trying to look sultry)

SHIELD AND BUCKLER

Comércio de Borba aceita escudos este fim-de-semana

Os comerciantes do concelho alentejano de Borba recebem, desde esta sexta-feira e até domingo, a antiga moeda de escudo nas transacções comerciais efectuadas, numa iniciativa que pretende dinamizar o comércio local. Trata-se da "Iniciativa Escudo", promovida pelo município e pelos estabelecimentos comerciais do concelho, sendo as notas recolhidas posteriormente trocadas no Banco de Portugal.

FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO DO NOT understand Portuguese, the above little snippet was taken yesterday from the Correio da Manhã, the most popular Portuguese daily newspaper, and it is about the town of Borba in southern Portugal, hitherto most known for its wines, these being an acidic paint-stripper of a white wine and a full-bodied, dirt-smelling heavy red, usually euphemistically referred to in the sales jargon as “fruity and citric” in the first case and “oaky and noble” in the second.

BUT IT IS NOT THIS REASON that Borba is in the news this weekend. The local council has decided to make the town an “Escudo zone” in order to stimulate the area’s economy. For this weekend all the restaurants and shops will be using a currency which disappeared eleven years ago.

WHILE THIS MAY SEEM STRANGE for many sensible Europeans, the fact is that pockets of Portugal are going to try this experiment over the coming weeks, sponsored by local councils and tacitly encouraged by the hopeless and hapless government. This is in addition to the many shops which still only trade in Escudos – doing better business nowadays than ever before.

THE SIMPLE FACT IS THAT millions of Escudos still exist in private hands, held, usually, by people who refused to believe that the “new currency” would last. As much as twenty percent of the cash on the market at the time of the changeover to the Euro remained in Escudos; in the main the government and fiscal authorities ignored this phenomenon. Indeed, it was good for the economy.

THIS ATTITUDE HAS CHANGED somewhat of late, with a series of initiatives designed to mop up whatever Escudo spillage still exists in an attempt to regain the lost money. This would be a sensible policy during a high point in the economic cycle; given that Portugal is in the depths of recession, it can only mean that the government wants these Escudos off the map for other reasons.

AND THE REASON I SUGGEST is that the Portuguese government knows that as soon as Greece comes out of the Euro Portugal will follow suit within a month, returning to a “new Escudo”, and it will not be convenient to upset all these people who still harbour the notion that it will return to the old one.

THE TAKING OF EYPON

AS ANY SCHOOLBOY KNOWS, the Greek mythological story about the rape of Europe is a part of our Greco-Roman and Judaeo-Christian heritage here in the civilised Western world. The details of this corny tale may not be quite so well divulged among scholars who never got into the depths of the stories invented by old Greek men who had nothing better to do but invent things to tell to others over a glass of wine.

THE ‘FACTS’ ARE, HOWEVER, that Europe – meaning “bright-eyed” or “startled” cow in classical Greek, was led forward “forcibly from the rear” by Zeus in the 8th century BC, in the guise of a bull, from Asia Minor to somewhere corresponding to Macedonia in an attempt to subdue her and stop her interfering with the serious issues of politics in Tyre (now Lebanon).

THERE ARE THOSE WHO ENJOY proclaiming that history repeats itself or is circular. And the realities of today suggest that Greece, the country that has historically let itself be known as the “birthplace of Europe”, “the cradle of democracy” and other such bland nonsense, is now about to be butt-fucked out of Europe due to the fact that it is still, three thousand years later, full of men who have nothing better to do but invent stories to tell each other over a glass of wine, this being particularly true of the Greek government and its economics experts, yet extending down to the postman and the bootblack. The only constant in this history is the regular sodomising of each other. And the lack of any will to work as long as someone gives them money to let them take things up their Asia Minor.

SYRIAN MATTERS

THERE MAY WELL BE SUCH PEOPLE as wonder, as I do, why Syria is not quite getting the bashing that other states have been subjected to during the so-called “Arab Spring” (which is now in its second summer and has still not produced a Swallow) by our good offices in the Western World.

IT SEEMS RELATIVELY APPARENT TO ANYONE with a television set that people have been being mown down, blown up, gunned in their beds and sniped at in their tens of thousands by buffoon-faced Syrian President Bashar “Basher” al-Assad, for well over a year and that no one in the “free world” is doing anything about it other than sending unintelligible United Nations commanders and officials to make speeches on obscure channels late at night.

WHENEVER THIS HAPPENS WE KNOW that the UN is not really interested in the event or that something is standing in the way of the major powers to make them want to call a halt or cessation on proceedings.

MY GUESS IS THAT THIS IS THE CHARMING Asma al-Assad, the fruity, British-born totty who is First Lady of Syria, trophy wife to “Basher” and raised and educated in the United Kingdom. She is a good friend to our beloved Tony Blair and his wife Cherie. Were such contacts not enough to warrant a little benevolence on the part of the West in order to persuade us not to blow her mansions, swimming pools and leisure complexes to smithereens, we also have the fact that her contacts include many of the great and good in the field of medicine in London and, more importantly, the world of finance in the City.

WHILE EVERY DECENT CHAP THINKS that what is going on in Syria is jolly rum stuff, one would not want to do the dirty on one of our own, would one? Especially if one is the “special envoy” to the Middle East.

SOFT UNDERWEAR

IT IS MORE A SIGN OF MY ADVANCEMENT than my backwardness that when I first saw the word “software” written down I believed it had a meaning similar to lingerie, a word which, at the age of ten, I imagined to have some sort of mystical, magical meaning in the world of adults due to the fact that it was always whispered in my presence and accompanied by winking.

THE CONNECTION BETWEEN THE TWO was, then, one of something being hidden, probably close to one’s flesh, and likely to arouse someone, me or perhaps everyone. If someone had perfectly innocently and factually stated “I’m in software” I would have imagined (until I was about 22 years old) that this pervert had his hands in and on female undergarments. But I now see there is a link.

THE TERRORIST CHAPS WHO INVENT new methods of frightening us through their cruel and absurd “suicide bombing” attacks have now, so we are told, managed to produce a pair of men’s underpants that can explode whenever the wearer wishes this to happen, or can be programmed by special software from a distance, and cannot be detected at airport security checks.

THESE “UNDERWEAR BOMBS” HAVE, unfortunately for the makers and sellers of this apparel, been discovered by the United States agencies responsible for homeland security and looking into people’s underwear. “Underwear”, I have read, “is the next airport metal”. I imagine that our security services will have to reinforce their “patting downs” from now on.

(My photos show exactly the type of suspicious underwear that will need careful attention and a thorough patting from the airport security staff in the future)

BOJO COMES HOME

AFTER ELECTIONS DURING WHICH the “ruling” coalition parties have been given a sound whipping by the electorate due more to the fact that the coalition politicians seem to have no idea of what is going on in the world rather than the fact that they are mismanaging the economy, everyone across the political sphere must be pleased that Boris Johnson has been re-elected Mayor of London.

IN THE LIGHT OF THE CONSERVATIVES being thrashed to within an inch of their lives, leader David “Dave” Cameron must now be nursing a dilemma: Johnson’s victory should surely mean that the blond phenomenon will not be challenging his fellow Bullingdon Boy for the leadership of the Conservative Party, yet eight years as Mayor of London will surely mean that Boris can swat Cameron aside whenever he should wish to do so.

CAMERON AND BOY OSBORNE may well be happy in their roles as leaders and cheque-book holders of the nation, but they will never manage to scale the heights of recognition afforded to characters such as Boris.

I DO NOT VOTE IN LONDON and have no real interest in housing developments in Lower-by-Blackheath-upon-Eel-Pie-East-Cheam or whatever the myriad of London boroughs call themselves, but I will stay up late (as is the case now) merely to listen to Boris Johnson talk. David Cameron must surely know this is the case; George “Boy Gideon” Osborne must have no idea what this means in relation to his future in the Conservative Party, nor what I am writing about.

AT OXFORD EVERYONE KNEW what was going on, and there were perhaps those among us who could not understand why Boris took a back seat and allowed lesser men to progress. Now we see why. Johnson is someone who is too honest, sensible and humorous to be the sort of dickhead who runs the present Conservative Party. Anyone who ends his acceptance speech as Mayor of London with “May the Force be with you” has to be either a loony or someone with that little, slight, cutting, edgy approach to serious business that ends up making the difference.

LIKE WHEN HE EMBARRASSED all the Chinese dignitaries during the Olympic Games “changeover” in Beijing (which he called Peking) in saying that “Ping-Pong” (sic) used to be called “whiff-whaff” and was invented by British army officers in India, who knocked balls across “nets” made of books stacked up in the middle of the dinner table. Thus, he stated “Ping Pong is coming home”. The sallow Chinese officials who had to listen to this declamation seemed bemused. Those who were in the know knew Boris was winking to us now in the future.

FOOD FOR THOUGHT

THE FOOD RIOTS THAT RAGED throughout Portugal on Tuesday the 1st of May have given many of the good and great in the country something to think about other than the abstract figures and graphics that they usually turn to in order to gauge the state of the nation. The fact that, when questioned by journalists on the evening news, not one of the political leaders or members of the Portuguese national parliament had a clue about what had happened the length and breadth of Portugal on Tuesday shows just how cut off they are from real life.

WHAT HAD HAPPENED was that the nationwide supermarket chain Pingo Doce decided to make a one-day-only special offer of 50% off all shopping over the value of €100. Nobody – not least the hapless managers of the supermarkets – were prepared for the outrageous scenes that followed as soon as word was passed around. (The announcement had only been made on popular radio stations.)

THE SUPERMARKETS AND OUT-OF-TOWN megastores became naturally overrun by shoppers eager to benefit from this special offer. The chain had innocently imagined that people would shop “normally” (whatever that is) and would be pleased by the discount. Instead, people descended on the stores in transit vans intent on buying, say, fifty bottles of whisky or twenty mega-packs of children’s nappies.

AS ANY INTELLIGENT PERSON would have been able to tell the owners of the chain, fights would ensue, bottles would be broken, nappy-bags would be ripped to shreds, police officers would be called and shops would be closed down for the day. And even the “peaceful” stores would run out of stock sometime during mid-morning.

THE FACT THAT IN FORTY CASES police intervention led to arrests and a large number of people were injured and needed to undergo medical treatment shouts facts about the parlous state of the Portuguese economy; the fact that all of this took place without the attention of the nation’s leaders shows how the financial crisis (and indeed daily life in general) bypasses the political classes.

BUT THE MOST UPSETTING EVENT of the whole sorry affair involved my good self. Having decided to make Ossobuco for dinner, I innocently walked down the avenue to my local branch of Pingo Doce to buy a bottle of Napoleon brandy and a small packet of walnuts for the sauce. I assumed that the broken glass and liquid on the floor of the almost empty shop was due to a shelf-stocking accident, and proceeded to the drinks area.

WHEN MY LIFE WAS THREATENED by two swarthy ruffians who were “guarding” the strong spirits shelves “for a friend”, simply because I had attempted to take a bottle of brandy from among the bottles, I realised that my custom might better be granted to other purveyors.