The Real Venice Entry

The media in Stravaraland aren’t altogether with it, either. We have a big song and dance about state censorship in the saga of the film entitled Akamas. Everyone goes on about going to Venice (well, the fringes of the festival, at any rate) while completely ignoring the fact that there is a Cyprus entry actually in competition. It’s in the Corto Cortissimo section and entitled Pharmakon – directed by Ioakim Mylonas. So, give the director of Akamas what he wants (money to make a print of the film), but please be kind enough to mention Mylonas who is actually competing, goddamit.

So-Called Victory

It’s bad enough to realise Stravaraland is governed by imbeciles without being reminded of more worrying aspects to the place. We have the fearless leader of the environmental movement driving around in an SUV, 3 out of almost 300 candidates for the post of sargeant in the police force only passing their exams thanks to some deft cheating and the European Solution being misplaced by the post office.

However, from time to time we do have a victory, albeit in the form of isolated incidents and usually by default. I say by default, as these isolated (or so-called isolated) victories are usually the result of someone else’s stupidity. It’s called blind luck and all we can do is to blow these out of proportion.

But, hey, the merits of comfort food are not necessarily based on nutritional values.

Our biggest victory since The Great Patriotic Refrendum comes to us courtesy of someone in Turkey deciding to let Mehmet Ali Talat give out a Formula 1 trophy, after being introduced to tens of millions of viewers the world over as the prez of the Turkish Republic of Northern Stravarland. FIA, the organisers seem to be aghast. And so they should be, as a result of this pathetic stunt.

And the murmurs are all about Turkey losing that event in next year’s calendar.

What’s more pathetic is the fact that this is all it takes for us to score a victory. Someone else’s idiocy, followed by the taste of (perceived) potential victory. And again, we lose all sense of proportion and perspective. It’s a given.

Why is it that no one can use this to our own benefit? Tell the FIA that we’ll let this slide if we can get the Cyprus Rally back on the WRC Calendar for next year. It’s that simple. Unless, of course, we fear that millions of people the world over have de facto recognised the pseudonorth, while we sadly await the day Turkey recognises Stravaraland.

So, give FIA a buzz (or get someone who knows someone at the Federation) and make it happen instead of having goofballs like Georges Lillique and the spokesman at the Presidential mantra (the one designed for sheep – not an oriental chant) giving us a load of bull about peacekeepers in Lebanon. We’re sending 2 officers… my ass!

3 Stripes, 1 Percent

After their training courses which involved pushing people around and beating the crap out of them, Stravaraland's police force now faces another scandalous scandal in which foreign powers ought to be implicated. Not as a diversion, you understand.

The facts: 270 policemen sat for exams for promotion to sergeant. Only three passed. (Which sounds perfectly natural: only 1 per cent of cops have any brains.)

However this fact was considered suspicious by the authorities, leading to the suggestion that maybe there had been a leak from the examiners (from Ministry of Education, police, Attorney General's office). The police took the matter to the Attorney General who suggested it might be better to cancel the results of the exams for the public good.

Conclusion: If 270 sit an exam, 267 fail and 3 pass, it's not because the 267 were dumb and couldn't answer the questions and the 3 might not have been so dumb and did answer the questions, but because the 3 knew the questions beforehand. Or, put another way, the police hierarchy itself believes its ordinary constables can't possibly pass an exam unless they cheat.

But why can't we be a bit lenient. Having figured out some of the tasks set out by the exams, the 3 in question are now able to count to ten and write their own names. So, seeing as they do meet the minimum requirements why can't they be given a shot at the post of sergeant.

Latest twist on Mega TV, the three all worked in the same office. Aha!! Another conspiracy, as I firmly believe the exams were leaked to the cops by a foreign power to punish the majority (waaaaay more than 1%) for the brave OXI of the Great Patriotic Referendum.

It's a Conspiracy, Re Gamwto

Our very own Captain Pikifrinos reports on the conspiracy that scuppered Our Marcos' streak. We will always love Marcos and we hereby vow to punish the Swedes.

"Off we went to the Pilot Pen, again with our flags, shirts, hats, signs...we missed the couple of first games in the set but the whole stadium knew when we arrived...Ate Marko mou....yelled the other crazy Cypriot...Lebenti mou...I yelled at the top of my lungs....(then some geese flew from the nearby marsh)...perfect weather....perfect day for tennis...perfect day for the Cyprus flag to be waving in the air

Like classic parapotties-Cypriots we bought Middle Tier tickets but made it straight to the box seats...(no, no meso involved here...just a sleeping 2-yr old and some nice talk from the spouse (No1 tennis player in Connecticut in her prime, before she met me, the sieftalia-master)

So, we are sitting with this lady in her box seats but she is loving it...of the 6-7,000 in attendance you hear these two crazy folks from the Northwest corner yelling with every opportunity, even though our insticts almost pushed us a couple of times to yell soccer slogans.


I have said it before and I will say it again...I never felt more proud to be from the enalia Kypros than the last couple of nights...the first time I held a Cyprus flag was when they lined us up along the road before the Hilton Hotel to welcome Kaunda....a re Spiro...you were big, large, larger than life...just the thought of my last intimate encounter with the flag almost made me puke the Nathan's hot-dog I just had between the 3rd and 4th game.

But this encounter with the Cyprus flag was different. It felt good. Marcos played well but the cold, skinny, bowlegged Swede had an answer for everything...he was at least 6'2" and he had a tremendous reach...

So the two of us (sharing the same last name, born and raised in the Ayios Dometios streets and playing for ENADara back in the days-he played basketball, I played soccer, both vegeterians (ie eating animals that eat vegetables) are yelling and screaming for Marcos...he sees us and after I promise him sheftalia if he wins he cruises through his next game...next thing I know the whole stadium is rooting for Marcos.

The people next to us are asking us to tell them somethin to say in Greek...people are coming up to us and telling us how great Marcos is and that he has a great heart...

In the end Marcos lost but what counts is that his name and Cyprus were heard in the stadium...people in Connecticut now know where Cyprus is...and it only cost us a few bucks for the tickets, and some yellow and green t-shirt paint from JoAnn's fabric ...without spending money to feed fat lobbyists in NY and Washington, without parties at embassies and consulates...just a family of four, a couple of friends, some t-shirts and flags were enough....

I wish we had 1000 Marcoses to play tennis...Marco you made us proud...you have allowed my kids to see me get excited once again for my heritage, my country, my gene pool (OK, OK now I am pushing it).

We might not have thrown a reception at presidential palaces or pretended to be your greatest fans like some to be unnamed back in the homeland, but we humbly applaud you for what you have done for yourself and for us, the simple Cypriot folk.

As I was leaving the court I could control this crazy idea that suddenly popped into my brain, which has been infected by that Mulan Disney song: '...Ancestors hear my plea...'etc,etc - which my kids hear non-stop these days.

Could this have been a conspiracy? If Marcos had beaten the Swede, maybe the Swedes would be upset and would cancel their trips to the island...and then the government officials would not be able to show that our tourist industry is still doing well ...kkiaorka sou...the instant-replay cameras were obviously tampered with....and if the couple of challenges Marcos made had gone for him he would be through to the next round. But sikkime, let the Souigezes go to Cyprus and let the locals, donning MarO'Polo sleeveless shirts welcome them...

So after a nice family photo-op, we put away the Marcos t-shirts until next year's Pilot Pen tournament. But we will see what happens next week at the US Open.

There's no doubt, though, that it was a conspiracy. Captain Lillique strikes again."

Ta Synora mas einai...

A true ambassador of culture, Pikifrinos the brave made it all the way to New Haven in Connecticut to bring us this report: In case you need to ask, our intrepid roaming correspondent is always sober when accompanied by his son. They both, however, became drunk with joy at the Pilot Pen Tennis Tournament as did the rest of the Marcos Baghdatis supporters.

"Off we went to the Pilot Pen tournament armed with Cyprus flags, Greek flags and a framed portrait of Da Man.

TeePee would have cried with joy, Vassos the Ephemerean would puff up with pride and call Andreas in his tomb instructing him to rise and see...and who knows, we might even have earned one of those “Get Out of Hell Free” cards from the Bishop of Kyrenia to use in the event we vote Yes in a future referendum.

I must say that during the hour and 48 minutes of the match I felt closer to my country than ever before...the Cyprus flag happily waving in a soothing New Haven afternoon breeze right next to the galanoleuki [Greek flag] (a..a...TeePee you see, you see?) and my 4 year old son wearing his custom-made white shirt with a Cyprus flag and the words 'Ela Re!' which encompasses so many meanings in the Cypriot dialect. Didn’t Ouranios once refer to it the oldest Greek dialect in the world...but I digress

We stadium-spotted another little parea in the SouthWest corner with Greek and Cypriot flags and we had a couple of loud exchanges of support for Marco-man.

And then he came in...he ran on the court...his bandana, his long hair (you should be thanking TP, Marco, otherwise you would have had your hair shaved off prwto noumero in the EF) [shorn hair, courtesy of the National Guard] and his trademark yellow shirt ...(Einai trella, einai trella...)

Our group of 10 started chanting 'Ela Marco' ...'Lemesos', and all of a sudden Marcos replied 'Apollon' with a loud, thundering voice...amidst an uproar of emotion from the Cypriots and Greeks. We felt like Leonidas’ 300 ...Long live our Ellinoxristianika idaniques.

Anyway, match under way, 3 Ben and Jerry's ice-creams later and a few bottles of water (in the absence of KEO tsakri) Marcos did not come out with his best performance but he won...

Attempts by radio-controlled bees to make him lose his focus were unsuccessful (we all know which daktylos [The Late and Great Spyros Kypianou's famous finger] was behind those bees...).

The stadium was hot...the cement even hotter and every now and then one ccould detect remnants of the word 'Yes' in the cement aisles. So don't go blaming Dimitris for supporting a ‘cementification’ of Yes...the man tried hard...it was not his fault that all this cement was erroneously diverted to New Haven.

After our Apollo won the game he said a few words and in a nutshell he said he is enjoying his life and tries to do so since there are other more important things in life than tennis...even though the Pilot Pen tennis marketers might not have liked that (repani Agiomammitiko then),

Marcos was right...sitting next to my 4-yr old and watching one of our fellow-men play world class tennis was worth everything...shilia riallia like they say in Kritou Terra...for all I care he could have been playing lingri...as long as my boy is well and healthy...nothing else matters.

So rejoice, hairy Cyprioids all over the world, and especially you at the center of the universe...for we have shown (dkiaorka sou atziapis sou eishe dikaio o Spyros tote) [SpyroMan - the original Cypriot superhero was right all along] that our synors are not at Dherynia but Long Island Sound....

Eagerly awaiting Marcos's next match...till then eat your sieftalies, drink your tsakrified KEO, play tavli and when asked about the Cyprus problem respond: Ws tzi ttemerou..."

You can also catch Pikifrinos' response to a blog entry here.

Gia ton Tasso, Re Gamwto

I am very happy to report that our sports correspondent has recently run out of Zivania and has sent us the following curtain-raiser of this afternoon's Pilot Pen Tennis Tournament in New Haven, Connecticut between Marcos Baghdatis and a player whom our correspondent, the adorable Pikifrinos could not identify, as he passed out before he had a chance of telling us.

Here, however is his report, sent to us by the famous courier pigeon known as Lazare Le Noir:

"Marcos is the best thing for Cypriots since souvlaki in a pitta.

OK, maybe since Spyros Kyprianou and Achilleas (of Cyprus, who once lived in a cave for a short while) and, perhaps, Captain Nemo

Even though Baghdatis' name is butchered [by non-Greek barbarians] and our friends from the life saving Non-aligned [?] movement of the 'Den Ksexnw' [alla den ta thelw] camp, he has managed to rise to the top 10 seeding of world tennis. This, needless to say, should be attributed to our present Ethnarch... okay, okay - thanks to the previous one too...the one with the tasty black [and revolutionary] dress.

Baghdatis could have been number 1 in the rankings of the Armed Forces had the brave and patriotic soldiers up at HQ had their way and forced the Bag-man to go through the oh-so tough rigours of oue glorious and meritocratic National Guard.

They were called Froura back then...not sure what they are called now...The TeePee Elite maybe? or TP-6...the number- in this case - has no correlation with their IQ...we hope - to guard our Synors [borders - a.k.a. Dheryneia]

We remain focused on our Greco-Christian idaniques[ideals, to you barbaric non-Greek speakers] and we, as a nation [under the solemn leadership of Tassos Le Kavlante] go to the first match with Marcos, bearing flags (Greek and Cypriot), wearing APOEL soccer shirts and yelling at the top of our lungs: 'Ela Apollona s'agapw Apollona...Sex Town Ole'[Go on Apollona FC, we love you in a respectful manner].

And just like good immor[t]al men of our land of the immor[t]als we always have our little radios next to our hairy ears in case there is some earth-shattering news (in Digital sound) from the supersonic, fast-pace talks between Tzionis and [that smelly Turkish Cypriot] 'pseudo-counterpart'[of his] on the very marketable and profitable (at least for the Paphians) Cyprus problem

...lest we might have to cry out loud...'Essheksiksin',"

Thank you Pikifrino, thank you Ethnarch Tassos, thank you Archbishop Makarios 3.0 and thank you to the leader of the Holy Synod who recently told the press that the elections for a new Archbishop will not have to be postponed just because it happens to coincide with the Cyprus Rally.

HA!!

An Israeli lands at Heathrow.
As he's going through customs, he's asked:
"Occupation?"
He replies:
"No, no, just tourism"

Vourate Kopelia, Erkountai oi Galloi

Gone are the days when blogs were ignored. Nowadays a blog with its head in the right place can make an impact.

I'm happy to report that our suggestion to send two peacekeepers to Lebanon has been heeded by the authorities of Stravaraland, despite the fact that their heads may not always be in exactly the right place - they say it's awfully dark up there.

Be that as it may, it looks as if it's definitely a go, go, go for our brave peacekeepers.

This, after our new-found allies, the French, prdictably 'down-sized' their proposed force to a mere 200. HA!! Wimps!

They also had the audacity to 'volunteer' leading the peacekeeping force in Lebanon.

E sigaaaa re Gallouthkia, mastoroi tziai mastrappaes.
Liberal translation: Easy there tigre: tin cup, wannabe boss.

With Costis and Yiannis on the ground the Frenchies can forget about that whole taking charge notion they may have in their silly heads.

Reports suggest that Costis' and Yiannis' mothers will be appointed quartemasters in charge of supplying them with lunchboxes and topping up their cell 'phone credit. Meanwhile, Costis and Yiannis Sr. will splash out for a Mercedes foukou from the guy accross from the St. Antoine market in the capital.

Parallel Universe

I have a proposal to make. Representatives of the government of the Republic of Stravaraland should choose another expression for places that do not exist. It's a bit embarassing to be seen by the evil foreigners as conducting negotiations with ghosts.

What would be really cool, though, would be to refer to the pseudonorth as the parallel dimension. The new technology park recently established by Georges Lillique would then be overrun by the leading researchers of the world.

Who cares about Roswell, Area 51 or whatever else out there is being sold to gullible simpletons. Hell, we'll become the first people on earth to make contact with one of however many parallel universes may exist.

Cutting edge negotiations are the future. It's either that or getting into Hip-Hop. After all the first leader of the Republixx did sport a wardrobe of timeless black, a hat big enough to fit a dozen iPods and enough bling to put 50 Cent (also known in Cyprus as Dekaselinos) to shame.

I say this because the government spokesman's latest line has confused the hell out of me. Who's provoking whom?

“The so-called spokesman of the so-called presidency of the pseudostate tried again with statements he made yesterday to provoke a reaction by our side,”
- Christodoulos Pashardis,
Government Spokesman, Stravaraland

It's a good thing the so-called statements were ignored.

Let Me be Carpet; You Step on Me

OK, things are definitely out of control, now. We all realise there are slow news days, but coupled with the abundance of slow journalists in Stravaraland we have nothing less than a lethal combination. It kills common sense on contact.

I'd hate to be a shrink in Cyprus (my sincere apologies for using the pat term to Dr. Mikellides who pens an exquisite column in Politis) but my armchair-psychiatric aspirations lead me to believe that Stravaraland is beyond sick. No, not everyone living there but the new job-for-life-ers; our self proclaimed journalists, who go around pimping every painfully stupid theory put to them by the people up at the presidential mantra.

These morons would print their own farts if they could get a decent enough photograph. And the editors would just fall about laughing like the idiot child on bad acid in the sandbox, while squealing "haaaa, smelly, smelly, smelly". Then one of them would break wind and the rest would simply faint.

Armchair psychiatry or not, I firmly believe that the island is in the grip of rampant psychosis that goes waaaay beyond my rudimentary understanding of the Stockholm Syndrome.

I must digress as my thoughts go lateral on me and chuckle as I remember the guy who drove off a hill on his tractor on one of those glorious summer days in red earth country when the first Scandinavian breasts began exposing themselves to farmers and hotel staff.

The problem with Turkey, is that we think it's dying. We've thought so for ages. But then we want to be held hostage and never be liberated. Not only that, we want to be abused, spat on and generally treated like...hmm, I guess, like the Stravaralanders treat the imported labour force. And worse.

The whole EuroAcidTrip we're on has nothing, whatsoever to do with justice or even cheap Viagra. No. It has to do with Stravaraland getting a shot at 'recognising' Turkey, only to turn around and say prits

It's not a matter of ports of entry in Turkey, airspace and tea houses being accessible to all Stravaralanders. No. We fail to tell the people that Cyrpus officially accepts such paraphernalia as Turkish passports and what have you. We recognise them and we want soooooo badly to be recognised by Turkey.

And every time a related far-fetched theory is touted, everyone jumps up and down whilst getting increasingly aroused.

I hate to go on about the peacekeeping thingy but I just lost it when I heard of the bullshit being spread by Pashardis et Cie.

"So, if the Turks send peacekeepers to Lebanon...ahh...nai, nai....they'll have to come through Cyprus...ahh...but if they don't recognise us will they go through the psudonorth...ahh...no, no, that would be illegal and they would end up being ridiculed in Lebanon by the fleeing kojakares...ahh...."

What in damnation do these half-wits think is going to happen? Do they seriously want us to believe that Memet and the washed 300 would just pitch up at Larnaca airport waving their passports, while at the same time struggling to get their artillery through the X ray machines? And will this imply recognition??

If you want to test recognition there are plenty of them in the bloody north, Just go up to an army camp and nod to the sentry and say "Re! You know who I am, re?" If he nods than we're all recognised. Same goes if he shoots you on the spot.

"play me like a dog, baby...yavrum, let me become the carpet on which you tread"

Wait a minute, you don't suppose the Turkish military have any means of overflying Stravaraland and getting straight to Lebanon, do you?

"No drug, not even alcohol, causes the fundamental ills of society. If we're looking for the source of our troubles, we shouldn't test people for drugs, we should test them for stupidity, ignorance, greed and love of power."
-P.J. O'Rourke

Halloumi and Sympathy

Typical! Bloody typical! Every time we come up with an original idea everybody and his bloody dog is out there ready to pilfer and take credit.

What business does tha Arab League have in interfering with the Lebanon thingy? They think they're so clever. And how clever would you be if the likes of Georges Lillique did not make the mistake of proposing peace plans in public? Answer me that, ya bunch of thieveing sheiks, dancing around in slow motion in your gallabias? Get a bloody job!

And the French? What's their connection to the region? Can't they just stay put at the Georges Pompidou Air Force Base and Culinary Institute outside Paphos?

And speaking of culinary - how did the Culinary Institute of America get to become so influential in the world of intelligence and espionage? Damned imperialist sous-chefs!!

And on top of it all even Pashardis' brilliant idea of sending in Cypriot peacekeepers has become a 'source of inspiration' among such low-life creep nations as France and Turkey. What in hell is going on here?

Cyprus earmarks Private Costis and Lance Corporal Yiannis to go to Lebanon and spread some peace and suddenly everyone jumps on our bloody bandwagon.

And the idea of the Cyprus troops was, to say the least, a stroke of genius - especially as it came hot on the heels of a rumour that the Danish Dairy Board has purchased the halloumi.com Domain Name for an undisclosed amount.

The idea was to send Costis and Yiannis (the most famous duo since Abercrombie and Fitch - alleged inventors of the mechanical pencil) with a small 'foukou' and a tub of traditional village halloumi. As they'd be the first peacekeepers on the scene, the world's press would flock and start snapetty snapping away. Doctored images galore would then spread like wildfire all over the internation media.

The world would witnes our pallikaria grilling up slice upon glorious slice of pure Cyprus Comfort and handing this unique cheese to the disposessed and shell-shocked victims of the Lebanese crisis. We'd be the good guys and get a ton of free marketing for our prized export to boot.

I can only urge our authorities and celebrity ministers to keep things quiet. Plagiarism is rife in the wicked, smelly world of international diplomacy.

In the afterlife we'll all be getting free halloumi
- Joe Strummer

No...Horse

One of the geeky things any blogger will do is install a little tracking device. Remember those garish 'X visits since', say, 'The day Elvis died' little counter thingies? Yeah, well, nowadays one can be a bit more discreet than that but the time-wasting process is just as much fun.

So, as I was looking at results from the rather snazzy little analytic tool I have embedded (go to 'view page source' while at this blog and figure it out, brethren and good sisters) I noticed a peculiar result: Within a short span of time I had 5 people logging on to the site from what my little tool (so to speak) identified as 'Dhekelia Cantonment'.

"Crap", I thought, "I'll be on the Matsakis shit-list if this keeps up".

A little 'Google-ing' was in order. Ahh, OK, I get it. Stravara is a horse. You know, aminals on which to spend one's wages. Yes, indeed. An Apparos (or appara) running for its life at a track somewhere in England.

I can just picture it now. A bunch of disgruntled squaddies, sitting around, getting bombed on warm KEO, going on and on about the ef-ing locals this and the ef-ing locals that. Then they disperse, turn to their 'puters and seek out the horse that will make them a fortune.

A horse that is probably owned by a ....

I had to have a little chuckle

...Tomorrow, the World

Someone in Stravaraland has prepared a little handbook, confidentially entitled "strategies to bamboozle the faithful". Of this, I am convinced. The manual must list, in bullet-point form, catch-phrases, one-liners and an assortment of musings and retorts. Nothing too complicated, I'm sure, but verging on the delusional. The people love it, Phileleftheros reproduces the snippets (their copy is tucked away in a cubby hidden by a portrait of Makarios) and before you know it, a truth is born.

Big Truths require the Supreme Ruler of Stravaraland (I Panayia na ton shepei) to address the nation - crying like a girly, optional. Smaller ones of a certain gravitas, however, can be delivered by Da Man hisself to the media at Larnaca airport - bleary eyed and in a state of scotch lag as an option.

Smaller ones sometimes involve the island nation saving some patch of the planet and can be delivered by cabinet members or the sombre government spokesman.

The latest theme involves Lebanon. Georges de Lillique et des Outres Meres already has a peace plan he intends to propose, according to Simerini, the implementation of which we'll have to wait and admire.

Now, the goons up at the Presidential barn tell us that we may or may not get into the peacekeeping racket. That's right; maybe yes, maybe no.

This, from the Cyprus Mail:

"...Cyprus will decide whether or not it will participate in a peacekeeping force for Lebanon if and when the UN decides to establish such a force and asks Cyprus to contribute, government spokesman Christodoulos Pashardis said [Friday]"

Eeee sigaaa re Pashardi (liberal translation: "Easy there, tiger"). But, hey, he did say if and when. If only we had a singe journalist on the island with the lucidity to keep asking on a daily basis whether such a request has been made yet.

As we have surreptitiously scored a copy of the bamboozling manual we'd like to give you a sneak preview:

Stravaraland will consider participating in the European Space Agency's efforts to launch a manned expedition to Uranus. (please, no proctologist jokes).

Stravaraland - if asked - may consider military intervention if things in Venezuela get out of hand.

Stravaraland could be partial to installing an interim government in Cuba if Castro kicks the bucket. After all, it's not far from Venezuela and seeing as CNN has employed Fidel's estranged daughter, somebody will have to take stock of the situation.

In the meantime, please bear in mind that if you cross over to the pseudonorth of the island, you are to refrain from bringing back smokes by the carton load (or livestock, for that matter) until such time as Famagusta is jointly administered by the two communities on the island.

If you play it backwards, I'm sure it says that Joey Ramone is alive

Shopping for a black dress?

A friend recently pointed out a geographic pattern, of which one ought to take note. It concerns the birthplace of previous archbishops of Cyprus [and Nova Justiniana, let us not forget] as well as the odds-on favourite candidate for the job. It may also concern the future of your child.

Archbishoproll:

Makarios 3.0 (1950-1977) - born in Panayia
Chrysostomos 1.0 (1977- ) - born in Ayios Fotios
Nikiforos (hot fave to take the helm) - born in Kritou Marotou.

When looking at a map you'll notice that the villages mentioned above are about 8 Km apart from each other.

The question, therefore arises: If one wants the best for one's offspring, should one make sure that it is born 8 Km down the road from Agios Fotios, in the Paphos district?

Hey, why not. After all the job you're taking a shot at [for those who are still in the process of procreating] is, no less than CEO of the largest business in Cyprus.

The Cyprus Problem and Lebanon

The trouble with Harry, according to Alfred Hitchcock, was that he was dead. This was seen from the point of view of those who were not. Pretty obvious.

What is also obvious is that this Lebanon thing is getting a bit out of control. It's also contributing to local warming, as the Greens are once more generating alarming amounts of methane as their chieftain, the charming and well informed George Perdikis, has been sounding as many alarm bells as he can get his hands on.

Perdikis has defined a new phenomenon - that of the Depleted Uranium (DU) cloud. As scientists are out on this one, we'll have to take his word. It seems, however, that Cyprus is not in any danger as there is no such thing looming in the skies above, according to the Health Ministry.

In other Cyprus-related Lebanon news we have:

Simireini still insisting Georges Lillique really does have a plan to bring peace to the region. They have him standing by, just in case.

The Migration service deporting one person for fleeing Lebanon without its prior authorisation and detaining a mother and her children for illegally wanting to join their husband and father. He's only been working in Cyprus for 10 years, so being suspicious and vigillant is not a bad idea. Oh, yes, plus they made the mistake of arriving after office hours, so they couldn't call he boss and ask what could be done.

The Ministry of golf courses and marinas has announcing that the pesky Lebanon thing will not affect the island's tourism. Hey, if the Gulf wars didn't why should a country closer to home?

In view of all this, and a service to our readers, we're giving away bars of soap to wash away any DU related crap falling out of the skies.

If there's any left over you can use it in case you inadvertantly shake a priest's hand.

Mount Who[m]?

When is a pipe not simply a pipe? Good question; but I think it would be quite inappropriate to suggest an answer such as "when it's in a monastery on a mountain". See, an answer like that would simply not be funny.

What you see here is a reproduction of a classic Magritte. Reproduction... no, not that kind, you fool...stop it...stop sniggering.

The church, you see, did not approve of artists such as Magritte. Not because he was Belgian but because his work aroused....ahhh, forget it!

OK, that's it! No more art appreciation entries.....enough, you two in the back of the classroom!!

Ground Control to Major Andreas

After a long enough hiatus, this blog is back. Almost with a vengeance and with enough gusto to start dishing out awards. Are these going to be distributed willy-nilly, you may ask – to which we reply: Well, c’mon, now, Cyprus is, after all, a willy-nilly kinda place, ain’t it?

Some people, through words and actions, make an indelible mark on society, while others are merely convinced that they do. It’s unfair to brandish the latter as having either delusion of grandeur or their heads up their arses. Such epithets are merely unkind.

Prizegiving, therefore, can go some way towards vindicating the much maligned and misunderstood;

Our first Lost in Space award, therefore, is awarded jointly to Andreas Hadjikyriacos of Simerini and his suspected muse - and some fear the next President of Cyprus - Georges Lillikas.

Hadjikyriacos – often mistaken for a noteworthy journalist – penned a brilliant little op-ed piece, promoting the diplomatic virility of Georges, who’s currently serving a sentence as Foreign Minister.

Intsead of quoting accurately, we’ll simply paraphrase:

"...2002 was probably the first time and certainly the last when Cyprus played an active role in the field of international diplomacy, when it negotiated the [release], of 13 Palestinians, [holed up] in the Church of The Nativity in Bethlehem.
Rarely does a country of our size get to play in the [The Premier League] of international diplomacy..."

Yeah, so far, so good, you may well say. All of a sudden, though, the author’s nose turns a decidedly unflattering shade of brown, as he suggests that Lillikas should start another ball rolling – this time to put his brilliant ideas forth as to how to negotiate an end to the Lebanese debacle. Especially as Cyprus is trusted by all plyers involved in the fucking mess in question.

Is this in lieu of a parent’s note excusing the child’s absence from school? Has the Foreign Minister already done his bit regarding the Cyprus issue and finds himself a bit on the fidgety side? Is Georges L the inspiration behind the keyboard?

Waaaitaminutehere! I thought Andreas H mentioned something 2002 being the last time we played a role in international diplomacy.

Some may be churlish enough to say there never was a first time, but, hey, we come not to bury Andreas but to praise him…