I am glad that is out of the way. I was reminded by eating half a Kinder bar that had been knocking around in the sediment at the bottom of my handbag with a bottle of Serge Lutens Sa Majesté La Rose perfume, creating something akin to what a team of poorly trained monkeys might come up with when presented with the ingredients for a rose flavoured piece of confectionery and an unlimited supply of methamphetamine. Anyway, now M is moving to Singapore (with flagrant disregard for my wellbeing) I believe that means that ALL the Ispahans in Europe are now mine. Just saying.
Where is this all going? I have absolutely no idea. Stick with me, I'm fragile tonight. A large dog peed on me in the park this evening. This is the second time in two years, and I am concerned that now that two dogs have peed on me I am to all intents and purposes a lamppost and must ready myself for being peed on all the time for territorial marking reasons. Apart from that my sense of fun has been swallowed up by various tentacles of the swirling, year long apocalypse that is 2010 (yes, tentacles can swallow), but I have a great deal of leftover confectionery from my daytrip to London and I am too tired to trouble you for long. It's all going to be ok.
News from Brussels is as follows:
Belgium is no closer to having a government than it was when the elections were held in June. We still have the fat idiot and the dapper little man in the bow tie. The fat idiot is busying himself writing polemics about the Walloon record on wartime collaboration, with particularly reference to cartoon authors (very Belgian, this). The one with the bow tie .. actually, where is he? I haven't heard from him for a few days. I reckon the fat one has eaten him. The king looks quietly furious whenever he is spotted in public, as well he might.
In other news, Bono is in Brussels tonight, as U2 are performing. Joy. The Stade Roi Baudoin will be echoing to the sounds of his self-important shouting. I could probably hear him from here if my fridge were not having some kind of seizure. The combination of this, and our absence of a government fills me with terror. Particular since Tony Blair has recently reinforced all Bono's delusions with his puzzling assertion that "Bono .. could have been a president or prime minister standing on his head". You can see my concern. We're talking about a man with a frustrated vocation here. And a handy snack sized country. A starter country for a man of Bono's boundless ambition.
I feel absolutely sure that if anyone happens, inadvertently, to mention to him that Belgium has been without a government for approximately three years, being the helpful messianic megalomaniac he is, he will offer to step in and bring peace to our conflict torn nation. I just know it's going to happen. I know it deep in the heart of my being, Bono is going to be the next Belgian Prime Minister. Bono, of course, will not let a small thing like linguistic divisions stand in the way of rock n roll government. Maybe we will have a new dreary pomp rock anthem to replace La Brabançonne? The Atomium will be covered with lasers and video screens. The Manneken Pis will be forced to wear fuckwitted visor style sunglasses. We are all doomed. DOOMED I TELL YOU. I suppose it will give Africa a break from his attentions at least? And frankly, with its colonial history, Belgium owes Africa that much.
A better solution, surely, would be to send Bart de Wever down to the Roi Baudoin stadium tonight to eat Bono in a tidy and workmanlike fashion. The whole country will be united in a common purpose, francophones and flems alike willing him on as he drinks Bono's spinal fluid with a genièvre/jenever chaser. The celebrations at our deliverance from Prime Minister Bono will be unprecedented and a thousand year reign of peace and prosperity will settle on the Kingdom of Belgiana.
But hang on. Does that mean Bono DID solve the Belgian constitutional crisis?