Charlie's Blog

I don't ask for much - really I don't. In the 4 years that I have worked here*, my colleague and (for lack of a better word) "friend", Goober has systematically knocked out of me any expectations that I might have naively harboured for a normal working life. BUT for the love of all that is decent, why can't that boy just take a simple message when someone telephones for me while I'm away?! Why oh WHY must he torment me with Belgian humour that makes absolutely no sense to anyone not born on this benighted land of witloof worshippers!? 

Me:     Any messages while I was out?

Goober:     Yes

Me:     Well...?

Goober:     Ahh yes, but... the messages... they are not all of them coming for you... hehe.

Me:     Ooooh-kay, but what were the messages that WERE for me?

Goober:     (smirking inanely) They was all the messages from many people, you know?

Me:     But.... who the %$#* were these people??

Goober:    (positively tittering with delight) Don't worry they were all of them the nice people!

Me:    Hand me that stapler, will you?

Goober:    Mais non... you will try to staple my face again.

* The Department for Pan-European Strategic Shuffling of Critical Paperwork (Brussels Branch)

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Once upon a time, there was a sandy but sizable desert land which was lucky enough to have many rulers, including Phoenicians, Carthaginians, Greeks, Romans, Vandals, Byzantines and Turks. Some of these rulers weren’t very polite about taking their turn at ruling, but they usually found creative ways to resolve these differences. This made the locals very sad, but nobody paid much attention to them.

The Romans enjoyed ruling this land so much the first time that they decided to do it again much later. By then, they had ditched their miniskirts, called themselves Italians and renamed the desert land “Libya”. During this time, Libya flourished under the watchful eye of a kind Italian ruler who took very special care of the Libya people with the generous support of his colourfully-moustachioed friend. 

Eventually, some of the less colourfully-moustachioed rulers of the world got tired of these antics. They decided to take matters into their own hands. After the victory, they weren’t quite sure what to do with Libya since there was no eBay in those days and hardly anyone was interested in a used desert land with numerous not-very-careful previous owners. Finally, they decided just to give it to a Libyan King with exceptionally large ears and a droopy hat.

It turned out that the Libyan King’s ears were just for show and that his droopy hat gave him a touch of amnesia. He was more than generous to his old non-moustachioed friends, but sadly he just forgot to share any of his country’s meagre wealth beyond his own neighbourhood. This made many Libyans very sad, but they were also very poor and Facebook had not been invented yet, so nobody paid much attention to them.

Then one day… they discovered oil. Huge gushing glittering black fountains of the stuff.

Suddenly everyone started paying more attention.

As the droopy-hatted King got richer, the Libyan people got angrier. Then one day, an idealistic young man persuaded the droopy-hatted King to leave. The Libyans were overjoyed and called the young man “Brother Leader” for he promised to bring many wonderful things to their troubled land.

Unfortunately, Brother Leader turned out to be neither very brotherly nor much of a leader. He treated his people with alarming cruelty and over the years changed from this to this. Mysteriously, he also took to wearing a droopy hat and forgot to distribute his country’s now massive wealth beyond his own neighbourhood. The Brother Leader was never particularly good friends with anyone but himself. However, despite all his little faults, the other rulers simply could not resist his charms, so they did what politicians do and welcomed him with open arms

This made many Libyans very very sad, but they were still very poor...

However by then, someone had invented Facebook and Twitter.

And Aljazeera

So now the Libyans are busy trying hard to live happily ever after.

MORAL: It takes a large international community to help raze a country, but only a small local one to raise it.

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Amazingly, the Belgians haven't seen hide nor hair of their government for over 8 months now. It's not the first time that this has happened either. To lose one government may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose a few looks like showing off, quite frankly.

However, this is no time for allocating blame. A workable solution is needed as soon as possible. Thankfully, Senator Marleen Temmerman has the perfect answer for this quirky nation...

A sex strike!

It's an ingeniously simple plan. All politicians' partners should go on a sex strike and not relent until a new government is formed. Nothing focuses a politician's mind more effectively than a little abstinence. (Maybe someone should tell Silvio, eh?)

We don't know much about Marleen Temmerman (except for the fact that, if her first name is not already the title of a Country & Western song, well... it bloody well should be). However, we commend the lady for she is wise and obviously extremely well versed in the ancient art of Kung Fu.      

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Charlie’s Tribe has just been asked if we’d print the following job ad for our readers. Of course, we’re happy to oblige because, after all, we are nice people. More importantly, the rather shady-looking man promised to pay us with our own weight in chocolate brownies.

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WANTED: A Dynamic Individual to Start Immediately

A new position has opened up for a courageous and exceedingly malleable person to assist us in running an exciting country with a colorful history.

Job Requirements:  

1.  Managing this lively country and leading it smoothly through the finals of the regional domino championships.

2.  Slow-dancing to catchy American tunes with one lover after another, without losing the ability to point flirtatiously. 

3.  Working with our local team of highly creative visionaries to meet our key strategic and economic needs in the region. 

4.  Redefining outdated concepts like "democracy" in fresh and exciting new ways, whilst keeping your people happy by never being swayed by silly demands for human rights, free elections and other such foolishness.

5.  Maintaining peace with Israel by demonstrating a sophisticated understanding of the complex issues relating to the conflict.

6.  Keeping the Suez Canal open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week (i.e. not even closing it for half a day on Christmas or on your mother’s birthday). Obviously, this is to enable access for... erm... US tourist ships. 

In return, you can count on our unquestioning  support, together with a highly competitive salary package with all the usual benefits.

If this is the job for you, then apply right away!! Simply send a copy of your resume and cover letter by email to Barack-Obama@whitehouse.com.

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One of the most importance pieces of advice I have been given in the last few months is...

Do not EVER piss off a pregnant woman.

The fact that the man who gave me this advice was lying in a mangled mass of fractured limbs and twitching pain at the time simply reinforces this important message. He might have saved himself some suffering if he had only chosen to provoke a gentler creature instead.

Like a rhino, for instance.

The trouble is, I don’t think anyone warned the Guichet People at our local Commune about this danger. Those poor people have enough stress trying to maintain faces of slapped-arsed-misery. And there is certainly nothing in their employee handbook about hyperventilating pregnant women who refuse to respond to standard Guichet procedures (i.e. Regulatory rudeness and apathetic ennui strictly according to Article 43 of the Commune Rules).

Pregnant MD: Please please will you urgently issue this Belgian ID card for me?

Guichet Dude:Did you provide some photos?

Pregnant MD: Yes

Guichet Dude: Did you provide a letter?

Pregnant MD: Yes

Guichet Dude: Did you get authorisation from this man?

Pregnant MD: Yes

Guichet Dude: In triplicate?

Pregnant MD: Yes.

Guichet Dude: Did you pay the exorbitant and utterly useless fee for an expedited process?

Pregnant MD: Yes

Guichet Dude: Did you sacrifice a small but feisty little goat at the statute of TinTin by the light of a full moon?

Okay, so the Guichet Dude didn’t request a small goat, but there was little else he didn’t demand from the exasperated Pregnant MD. And then after countless visits to the Commune and general run-around, the Guichet Dude flatly announced that he couldn’t possibly issue the ID card anyway because they had lost the file.

I don’t know if Guichet Dude knows how close he came to being garrotted by a rabid pregnant woman using nothing but her bare hands and one of those stupid little chains attaching useless pens to the counter.

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