A Vote Of Confidence

Inevitably today's coverage has been dominated by details of the recent Iraqi polls: a triumph for democracy that, I am sure, will have dictators quivering. The willingness of people to leave their homes to go to the polls despite dire warnings of terrorist attack is truly inspirational and may, indeed, encourage Albians to move beyond their front doors despite the numerous imminent and omnipresent threats to life and limb so frequently described by Home Minister Ruud Eerz, his predecessor Fanatik Loon and the columnists of Da Heyt.

Despite the overwhelmingly positive reaction thus far to the events in Iraq, I am afraid that some naysayers have continued to voice their concerns as to the elections, in particular warning that they could result in Iraq shifting into the hands of religious fundamentalists, though given that Iraq is presently in the hands of Mr Bush this concern seems a little tardy. Certainly it is not a concern shared by Kiznya Schlop, who has tearfully described the events in Iraq as a "moving and humbling experience", though it must be admitted that this statement may be of dubious value given the Prime Minister's willingness to be moved, humbled and driven to tears by everything from the incarceration of a character in a popular soap opera to a slight injury to a household pet.

Finally, I wish to thank all those who have wished me well following my brief hospital stay(1). I can assure you all that I am feeling much, much better and hope soon to be sitting up once more(2).

(1) as detailed in My Apologies.
(2) possibly even sans the aid of a rubber ring.

My Apologies

I am afraid that I will not be able to provide my usual update today. While the more cynical among you may suppose that this failure may be attributable to an excess of enthusiasm during a sojourn at my favourite hostelry(1) this, I am sad to say, is not the case. In fact I am currently in Blizsta's world famous(3) St Gozondor's Hospital awaiting treatment for serious injuries sustained in the course of my journalistic duty(5), the journalistic duty in question being my planned undercover investigation into "Opus Iffi", the allegedly sinister Albian religious sect - recently featured in bestselling novel "The Michelangelo Cipher" - to which our charming new Education Minister and mother of seven(6), Zhorta Duffi is believed to belong. I will not go into the details of the injury I suffered nor the means by which I sustained it, for reasons both of my tendency to faint at the thought and due to certain oaths I was encouraged to swear. Suffice it to say that, until my investigation began, I had believed the Spanish Inquisition to have been formally ended in 1834. Fortunately, the doctors say that I should be back on my feet again soon and have advised me to thank my lucky stars that the poker was cold.

(1) currently the "Bor yt Hunza", or "Bear and Hounds"(2).
(2) this has replaced in my affections the "Troia Schitz Da Vinda" (in English "The Three Sheets to the Wind") which has - thanks to the dread influence of the potato-based-alcohol magnates - been converted into "Yusslez O'Ropie's", an (allegedly) Irish theme pub.
(3) in truth, "infamous" might be a more appropriate term, the chief source of "St Gozzie's"(4) fame being that it has the world's highest level of MRSA (at least, the highest level ever found outside a British hospital).
(4) as the hospital is familiarly known.
(5) the nature of which was recently explained to me telephonically (along with the prospect of pay cuts and, indeed, redundancy for those who fail to fulfil this duty) by the Head of News.
(6) it is, I am told, mandatory to mention Ms Piti's maternal status. Why exactly this should be I do not know.

History Will Teach Us Nothing

I note with some distress that it has been over two months since I last wrote about Albian history(*). Given the, frankly, mind-numbing tediousness of today's news(**) I feel that the time has come to rectify this glaring omission.

When I last spoke of Albia's history, I arrived at the Gorman Conquest, when Albia was invaded by the forces of the man who would become known as King Hanruff I of Albia. It was in 1066 that his army arrived and met the forces of the native Albians at the Battle of Grasbyrns (which battle was, of course, famously recorded in the Beyow Tapestry), slaying the Albian King Voris I by shooting him in a part of the body which has, for reasons of taste and decency, always been referred to as "the eye".

For a long time historians have argued that the nett effect of the Gorman conquest was to render Albia a cultural and economic backwater for almost 150 years. Happily this view has now been reconsidered, with the vast majority of Albian historians agreed that 150 years is a gross underestimate.


(*) see A Return To History.
(**) consisting as it does of further discussion with regard to Home Minister Ruud Eerz's statement to the Grevvitren on the new anti-terrorism powers he intends to give himself and the enormous impact they will have upon the civil liberties of the Albian citizenry. I appreciate that those of you who come from countries with a greater record of democratic freedom for the citizenry(***) will look askance at the prospect of a Home Minister giving himself the power to lock up anybody he likes(****) in their homes for an indefinite period without having to give any reasons, or indeed, actual evidence. Here in Albia, however, I can assure you we all feel far more secure in the knowledge that someone is watching over us at all times, indeed literally so in many cases, thanks to the wonders of CCTV.
(***) countries such as Burma or Zimbabwe for instance.
(****) or, more appropriately, dislikes.

Taking Control

The chief matter of note from today's news was the statement by Home Minister Ruud Eerz on the detention without trial in Batbog Prison of eight foreign citizens alleged to be terrorists(*), following the ruling by the country's most senior judges in the Nobz that such detention was unlawful(**). In response Mr Eerz has announced that he is to change the law to create new "control orders" under which the men may be electronically tagged or placed under house arrest. What precise use arresting their houses will be, particularly as - being foreign nationals - they are not actually located within Albia, remains to be seen. I am more confident with regard to the question of electronic tagging, which I understand to be a form of electronic identification system: given that the mere presence of a barcode on any item can render its passage over the short distance across an Albian supermarket checkout almost impossible, I'm sure an electronic identification system will make all movement wholly impracticable, especially if the identification of the tag involves an electronic recognition system and an ill-trained, bored and acne-ridden youth.

(*) claims in relation to three of them that they had "consorted with known extremists" having been substantiated by photographic evidence showing them standing close to Mr Eerz's predecessor, Fanatik Loon.
(**) see Another Door Closes.

Figuring It Out

Today sees the publication of Albia's annual crime statistics. While, in most countries, this would be a relatively straightforward matter, things here in Albia are made altogether more complicated by the fact that the government chooses to issue not one but three sets of statistics: the first statistics are the figures for reported crimes (down overall but up in respect of violent crime), the second constitute the results of the Albian Crime Survey (down slightly overall) , and the third are the seasonally adjusted government figures which reveal that crime has, in fact, ceased utterly to exist and that we live in a prelapsarian Eden, presided over by the kind and all-knowing wisdom of Prime Minister Schlop.

While the government doubtless hopes (as have all its predecessors, of whatever political shade) that these multifarious figures will serve to confuse the Albian electorate, I regret that this hope is almost inevitably dashed by virtue of the simple fact that most Albians ceased to believe any government statistics at all several decades ago. Indeed, whatever the truth of the figures, I for one have certainly been the victim of violent crime on more than one occasion, at least that is the only explanation I can offer for the fact that each night I will leave my favourite inn after a few small glasses of potato-based alcohol among friends and yet when I awake the following morning I find a large number of bruises on my person.

The Race Is On

I am afraid I have some very bad news to impart. Notwithstanding that no date for Albia's General Election has, as yet, formally been set and, resultant from that, that such an election could, in what the younger generation insist on calling a "worst case scenario", be up to 15 months away, it would appear that the campaign to win that General Election has well and truly begun. Thus, for at least the next three months, those of us here in Albia will have to face each day in the knowledge that at any moment a wild-eyed politician may leap out at us and attempt to importune our vote. They will stare at us from every billboard, harangue us from every television screen, bark at us from every radio and, doubtless, slump next to us in every bar. Life will become the sort of living hell normally seen only in reality TV programmes or the carriages of a delayed Nymmfo Rail train(*).

To illustrate my point, the hours before lunch saw the launch of three major policy initiatives. To take each in turn, the Drid Party has sought to woo mothers with a promise of increased maternity pay, the Krep Party has sought to woo first-time housebuyers with a promise to widen home-ownership and the Nyesti Pqrty has sought to woo anyone who has ever nodded approvingly at a headline in an Albian tabloid or considered voting for the APE or Berot Yolik-Lesk with a promise to "crack down" on immigration.

I need not detain you overlong with an analysis of the Drid Party's pledge, bearing in mind that the party will never be in a position to deliver on it(**). The Krep Party's pledge to widen home ownership is more interesting, especially given that it is a subject close to Prime Minister Schlop's heart. Indeed, so keen on encouraging home ownership is Mr Schlop that he and his wife have at least seventeen homes themselves. Nor should it be said that Mr Schlop is selfish in these matters, he is keen to see all sorts of people purchasing very substantial properties all across the globe, especially if they will offer him the chance to holiday in those same properties free of charge.

Lastly I must turn to the Nyesti Party. Their pledge to curb immigration is, admittedly, a familiar one but it is nonetheless heartfelt for all that: Nyesti BGs, like many of their constituents, have long been concerned with the threat of "strangers coming in and taking jobs", especially when those strangers are members of other parties and the jobs they are threatening to take belong to Nyesti BG's.

(*) "delayed Nymmfo Rail train" is, I concede, something of a tautology.
(**) the same reasoning does, admittedly, apply equally to the Nyesti Party given its current position in the opinion polls.

The Case For Uniformity

Finding myself at something of a loose end(*), I thought I might take the opportunity of giving my readers a little weekend update on the Albian news. In what is thought to be a sideswipe at his former associates in the Albia Proti Endependenz, that old friend of this column Berot Yolik-Lesk has insisted in today's Zondig Zennofob that members of his nascent new party Vanitas will be banned from wearing "cravats, blazers or 'silly hats'". I am advised that Mr Yolik-Lesk feels that the somewhat eccentric outfits worn by his former colleagues gave them something of a reputation as "cranks". While one cannot help but suspect that the main source of this alleged reputation would have been the APE's policies, there is doubtless something in Mr Yolik-Lesk's view. In the circumstances one can only applaud his decision not merely to crack down on the more outré clothing choices that might be made by Vanitas members but to go further and supply them with specially designed uniforms. I am sure his choice of chic black shirts, red, white and black armbands, black trousers and highly-polished black boots will go down extremely well (indeed, I understand Prince Thuggi has already considered signing up).

(*) My dear wife Ylatea having requested that I vacate my little cupboard(**) for a shortwhile(***).
(**) see The Biter Bit.
(***) That "short while" being, in essence, during those hours when we might be liable to come into contact with each other. This is, I am sure you will agree, a more than reasonable request on her part given the difficulties attendant upon readjusting to my presence in the matrimonial home. Despite these difficulties I am fully confident that within one or two weeks I will be able to address her with a bold "Good morning, my dear" without causing her either to break down in tears or throw crockery.

The Biter Bit

I did not realise yesterday how fortuitous it was that I should report alleged sightings of the vampire of Orfulbad. Looking back on the matter it is plain to me that descriptions from locals of a batty Orfulbaddie bothering innocent passers-by can only have referred to Berot Yolik-Lesk, the mahogany-tanned former TV presenter and present demagogue, who has finally quit the Albia Proti Endependenz after it failed yet again to annoint him as either its party leader or the true risen Christ. Mr Lesk is now expected - after a suitable period of quiet contemplation in front of as many television cameras as possible - to announce the formation of a new political party(*) to be known as "Vanitas".

In other news, I note that the Government is to introduce formal plans for Albia's thriving potato-based alcohol industry to pay a levy towards the cost of policing town-centres following the introduction of 24-hour drinking legislation(**). A similar scheme has been piloted by the Albian police for many years, with the owners of Albia's hostelries and nightclubs happy to make generous donations to the police benevolent fund in return for the assurance by the police that none of them would end up suddenly contemplating the floor of the local police station rising rapidly towards them as they journey down the notoriously hazardous police station stairs. It is a system which has always worked marvelllously well and I am sure all will welcome its regularisation.

Finally for today, I hope you will permit me to mention some glad tidings of my own: my dear wife Ylatea and I are to be re-united in the matrimonial home at last(***). Truly I find it hard to express my happiness at being able to exchange the small (but homely) cupboard which Vlotar has so kindly allowed me to use during my stay in his cybercafe for my very own small cupboard under the stairs, which Ylatea has suggested I use while she re-adjusts to my presence at home. Happy days indeed.

(*) membership: 1.
(**) regarded by many Albians as an outrageous reduction in permitted drinking time.
(***) for the somewhat tortuous history of our relationship may I refer readers to In My Own Defence, Back Again, Caught Out, Oh Dear, Click Away, Back To Where I Once Belonged, Snow News, Good News Everybody! and Schloppy Defending.

High Stakes

With much of the Albian press distracted by the minor matter of the inauguration of George Walker Bush as President of the United States or disturbed by continuing revelations as to the conduct of the army(*) it falls to me to bring your attention to the lighter items in this week's news from Albia. The piece which amused me most greatly was undoubtedly a report in Da Garindua that the people of Orfulbad have been plagued over recent weeks by the attentions of a vampire, who has been stalking that fine city's grim and awful streets, sinking his teeth into passers-by. I am happy to say that, once it was ascertained that Nyesti leader Zavlov Nizder was otherwise occupied, police were swift to dismiss these claims as mere urban myth: a classification they can share with Prime Minister Schlop's claims to socialism and the Drid Proti's claims to any prospect of power.

(*) see Soldiering On.
(**) though it is worth noting at this point that, in the light of my past experiences of reporting crime, it would appear that the average Albian policeman also believes muggers, burglars, car thieves, and indeed almost all felons of whatever character to be mere creations of their alleged victims' imaginations.

Soldiering On

The front pages of today's newspapers here in Albia are, for once, unanimous: all are appalled by the photographs of Albian soldiers allegedly abusing Iraqi detainees - photographs so horrifying, indeed, that they are scattered liberally across all the front pages (not to mention several of the inside pages as well). In light of this I felt it right to look up one of my army contacts, who reminded me that behaviour of this sort is merely the sort of high-spirited overexuberance that one should expect from a group of ill-educated(*) and hormone-riddled youths, many still in their teens, sent off to be shot at in a foreign land of which they know absolutely nothing at all(***).

I must admit that I - no doubt in common with most of my readers - was rather shocked by this view, which strikes me as fundamentally wrong-headed. Having spent many an evening in various of Albia's garrison towns I can state categorically that this sort of exuberant behaviour is quite normal and has nothing whatsoever to do with the proximity of gunfire, and generally has quite a lot to do with the proximity of nightclubs and the imminent arrival of "chucking-out time".

In any event, these revelations - such as they are - are not without at least some positive elements. For instance we can at least rest assured that the Albian army is the perfect place for someone with the skills of young Prince Thuggi(****).

(*) this is no reflection on the Albian armed forces - thanks to the varied education policies of successive Albian governments, the average Albian child would need a calculator to add two and two together(**).
(**) the answer to which sum is, I am assured "battery low".
(***) again, thanks to the aforementioned Albian educational system, a country of which Albians know little would be any country that is not Albia.
(****) see Sons And Duffers.

Plane Crazy

By some strange coincidence, just as Finance Minister Door returned from his recent trip to Africa(*), Prime Minister Schlop found himself travelling to France. This has understandably fuelled the rumours that the pair's relationship has deteriorated so far that they can no longer be allowed within 100 kilometres of each other, but I am advised that Mr Schlop did have a good reason to be out of the country, namely to attend the launch of the new Airbus A380 double-decker "superjumbo" aircraft. As you will know, while Albia may not have a leading role in the Airbus consortium, it has played a vital role in the construction of the new craft, that role being the highly-technical manufacture, to within micrometres of tolerance, of the safety stickers advising users of the aeroplane's lavatories not to smoke, under penalty of a €500 fine. Indeed, I do not doubt that it is the "Albian-ness" of these craft that has led Dikki Tvot to place an immediate order for at least 2.5 of the craft for his Nymmfo Airline, and it must be conceded that he is the ideal man to put into effect the Prime Minister's pledge that the A380 will "change the way that we travel forever" having already caused me to forswear the use of any of his trains for life.

(By the way, before I sign off I should apologise to my readers for yesterday's failure to note the launch by Yin Flok's Drid Party of its manifesto for the doubtless imminent general election. In my defence I can only say that in taking no notice whatsoever of the launch I was merely giving a true reflection of the attitude of the majority of Albians)

(*) This would appear to have been something of a spiritual journey for Mr Door(**), who claims to have learnt many important lessons from his African sojourn: from Nelson Mandela he has learnt the value of patient endurance, from Archbishop Desmond Tutu he has learnt the importance of Christian forgiveness and from the late "Emperor" Jean-Bedel Bokassa and Idi Amin he has learnt the value of eating one's enemies' livers before their dying eyes.
(**) Not unlike my own journey, during the early 1960's, to Marrakesh(***).
(***) Though, in the minister's case, not involving drug smuggling charges or deportation.

Defective Planning

There are times in a foreign correspondent's life when, thanks to that slight distancing from local events which comes with being of a different nationality to the participants, one is able to deduce certain matters from a whole course of events which have escaped those involved. It is with the advantage of such a perspective that I have come to the, I believe irrefutable, conclusion that Nyesti Party leader Zavlov Nizder is cursed(*). No sooner has the time come for his party to unveil one of the central planks of its election manifesto - the standard pledge(**) of all politicians to cut taxes, cut spending and still improve services - than he finds that one of his few remaining BGs, Berot Hoohy, has decided to defect to the other side(***). Mr Hoohy has stated that he was driven to defect due to the current policies of his former party, chief among them its policy on Europe. At this point I should explain that the Nyestis do not believe in Europe - a policy which is extremely popular with the Albian press and the party faithful, but does make holidaying in Tuscany - or any other non-existent place on the non-existent continent - somewhat tricky.

Mr Nizder is, of course, made of strong stuff and has pledged that this defection will not distract him from the task ahead(****). Indeed, as he has pointed out, the removal of one person from the catering bill at the next Nyesti office party can only assist his 35 billion pahnd cost-cutting programme. So, that's seventeen pahnds fifty down, only another thirty-four billion, nine hundred and ninety-nine million, nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred and eighty-two pahnds fifty to go.

(*) in addition, of course, to the curse of undeath under which he, so heroically, labours.
(**) I use pledge here in its political sense, that sense being "outrageous fib"
(***) I use the term to indicate the political "other side", ie the Krep Party, rather than the land beyond the mystical veil separating life from death.
(****) Though it has caused him to erect barbed wire and border posts around the edges of all his BGs' constituency homes.

A Fine Time

While the controversy over Prince Thuggi(*) continues to occupy much of the Albian news media (keen as they are to deal with the really important matters of Albian life), I did note from a small paragraph towards the rear of Da Garindua that Home Minister Ruud Eerz has announced plans to introduce a new system of fines under which criminals will pay according to their wealth. If you will permit me to depart from my usual practise by - as our American cousins would have it - "editorialising", I have to say that the introduction of a scheme under which the punishment will more accurately fit the crime is welcome. Indeed, my only objection, insofaras I have one at all, is that the scheme does not go far enough. Where, for instance, are the provisions to have Dikki Tvot trapped for thirty-six hours just outside Zemetri's railway station in the "standard" class carriage of one of his own Nymmfo trains, wedged next to a malodorous knuckle-dragger the size of a small aircraft carrier and opposite a baseball-cap-wearing, acned juvenile given to overlong, overloud and expletive-strewn conversations with his several female inamoratas via the mobile phone he has assuredly stolen earlier that day?

The above caveat aside, I have no doubt that the proposed system of financial penalties - under which the level of the fines will be found by multiplying a figure for the severity of the crime by the offender's daily disposable income(**) - will be a great improvement. Indeed, having considered my own daily disposable income I realise that the commission of a relatively minor crime could bring me quite a tidy sum. Accordingly I am afraid that I must sign off for the present, as I have some drunk and disorderly behaviour to commit.

(*) see Sons And Duffers.
(**) after deduction of such essentials as the costs of food, housing, transport and potato-based alcohol.

Sons and Duffers

As someone who is soon to discover the joys of parenthood(*), I confess I find it more than a little distressing to read of the misbehaviour of errant offspring and still more distressing when two cases of such wrongdoing turn up on the same day.

I need not, I feel, dwell overlong on the case of Dork Ruuffah - son of Barmi Ruuffah, Albia's first female(**) Prime Minister - who has today pleaded guilty to having played a role(***) in plans to launch a coup in Africa. Although he has admitted funding the use of a helicopter, Mr Ruuffah has repeatedly denied any knowledge of the plans for a coup, a claim which has been universally accepted given his upstanding antecedents, his personal integrity and the fact it is widely doubted that he is able to get to the end of the alphabet without a large map and some hired guides.

The other matter, concerning the decision of the late Princess Ditzi's youngest boy, Prince Thuggi, to attend a fancy-dress party attired as a senior SS officer is even more shocking, even given his - perhaps understandable - defence that he found it in one of great uncle Heinrich's old suitcases. It is truly a sad day when the face of a young royal stares out at one from the front of every tabloid below headlines condemning him for bringing the country into disrepute, for offending the sensibilities of old soldiers and, in the case of Da Heyt, for disgracing the uniform of the Schutzstaffel. I am sad to say that the young Prince's actions have brought shame on both his dear mother and, indeed, his father(****).

(*) see A Change of Address and Good News Everybody!
(**) allegedly.
(***) understood by those who know him best to be the role of rich idiot.
(****) whoever that may be.

Get Out Of Jail Free

Though I have not had the opportunity previously to comment on the matter in this blog, I am sure my readers will be aware of the cases of the four Albian citizens who have been held in the US detention centre in Cuba's Guantanamo Bay for the last three years. All four were, you will doubtless recall, classified as "enemy combatants" outwith the provisions of the Geneva Convention, having allegedly committed a number of very serious crimes including being knowingly of the Islamic faith within the bounds of a combat zone, carrying a beard with intent and assaulting a military officer with a cutting remark. What is more, if we are to take the word of US Defence Secretary Rumsfeld(*) it seems that during their time in detention - in what, I am assured by old friends now risen to power in the "Bush II" administration, were conditions not unlike those to be found in a three or four star hotel - these four conducted themselves somewhat less than perfectly: at least two are believed to have refused point blank to take part in the morale-building cheerleading classes(**), and more than one of them refused to thank the military police guarding them for their morning workout(***).

In the circumstances, readers may be surprised to learn that all four men will soon be flying home to Albia - doubtless rested and refreshed following their three year holiday on the paradisiac tropic isle - as free men. The cause, I am advised, is the lengthy and strenuous series of interventions on their behalf by President Bush's closest friend and most deeply respected ally, our Prime Minister Schlop. Indeed my sources tell me that were it not for these interventions, and the absolute lack of sufficient evidence to convict the men before even a military court, the four would still be enjoying their daily plunges in the cold baths and electro-therapy even now. Sad as they may be to see their vacation end, I am sure all of these soon-to-be-former detainees would wish to congratulate Mr Schlop on the job he has done on their behalf. Perhaps they may even have a suggestion or two as to a suitable location for his next holiday.

(*) and, bearing in mind his sterling (if admittedly decidedly non-military) service to his nation, not least during his time in the Nixon administration, I am sure that we should take his word.
(**) which - as we are told is common practice - consisted of forming living pyramids of naked men, hanging from handcuffs and other healthy pleasures.
(***) an invigorating beating, not unlike that meted out to each other post-sauna by Scandinavians with birch twigs, though admittedly with the birch twigs replaced by truncheons, rifle butts and electric cattle prods.

Peace On

And so, we are told, the war between Prime Minister Schlop and Finance Minister Door is over. The pair have, if not kissed and made up, decided to let bygones be (for at least the next 24 hours) bygones. "What," I imagine my readers will be asking themselves, "can be the cause of such a change?" The answer is simple yet remarkable. It would appear that, for the first time in living memory, Krep Party BGs - in a scene which, having had it described to him, young Vlotar(*) described as reminiscent of the moment in that noted filmic entertainment "Zombie Terminator Deathkill IV" when the eponymous zombies turn on their masters and destroy them - decided to rise up and demand that Messrs Door and Schlop conduct themselves like adults rather than sulking teenagers(***).

In any event, the result of this unprecedented confrontation was that yesterday evening Deputy Prime Minister Rrrowr was able to emerge from a meeting room in the Grevvitren and announce (through a translator) that "he had in his paw a piece of paper" which would guarantee "peace in our time". I am sure these words will put many minds at rest, though I confess there is a certain eery familiarity about them which I find strangely unsettling.

(*) Who, I am happy to say, appears somewhat recovered from his recent nervous indisposition(**), though he continues to exhibit some distress at the mention of certain words and phrases, including - strangely - "gravid", "pregnant pause" and "trimester". I wonder if he had an unfortunate encounter with an obstetrician during his childhood?
(**) see A Change of Address and Good News Everybody!
(***) For myself I feel Vlotar's comparison is a little unfair as, from what I understand of "Zombie Terminator Deathkill IV", many of the zombies portrayed in it had, prior to the confrontation alluded to, already demonstrated a degree of intelligence and free will far beyond that of a Krep BG.

Daggers Drawn

In what must be one of the least surprising developments on which I have had the pleasure to report during my time as a foreign correspondent(*), relations between Prime Minister Schlop and Finance Minister Door have worsened even further since I last wrote. This latest drop in the temperature of relations between the two men is the result of the publication of "Door's Albia", a political work in which it is claimed that Mr Schlop faithfully promised Mr Door that he would resign last year. Mr Schlop's failure to fulfil this promise has, apparently, left Mr Door somewhat aggrieved(***). Indeed, it is understood that the loud banging heard throughout Quaffing Ztraht in the middle of last year was caused neither by roadworks nor - as was feared - an attack by the Trubbld Armih Independenz but rather by the Finance Minister repeatedly beating his head against the party wall between his residence and that of the Prime Minister.

Krep Party politicians, meanwhile, can only conclude that their party's two leading lights have taken leave of their senses. Several have remarked to me (after having been supplied with the necessary quantities of potato-based alcohol and my absolute assurance that I would repeat not a single word of what they told me to a living soul) that the continued fighting between Schlop and Door can only serve to distract voters from the Krep Party's record and achievements. I felt I had no alternative to point out to my informants that, bearing in mind the nature of this record and those achieevements, it may be that Messrs Door and Schlop are not so foolish after all.

(*) excluding, of course, the incident with Nikita Khrushchev, the bottle of Stolichnaya and the dancing bear(**).
(**) the bear was not, I should stress, any relation of Deputy Prime Minister Rrrowr.
(***) though - admittedly - somewhat less aggrieved than the bulk of the Albian population.

Schloppy Defending

Following yesterday's report (Divided They Brawl), I am now happy to confirm that the decision of Prime Minister Schlop and Finance Minister Door to try and upstage each other by holding press conferences at exactly the same time did not, in fact, mark a new nadir in the relationship(*) between the two men. That nadir was, instead, marked by the decision of certain of Mr Schlop's aides to intimate that the recent robbery at the Bomd headquarters of Trubbld's Southern Bank (see Surely Some Mistake) had been carried out by a group of Door-ites, all eager to fund their man's campaign for the Krep Party leadership. Fortunately such suggestions can now be dismissed, the head of the Trubbld Police Service having chosen to identify the culprits as members of the paramilitary TAI. While many had predicted such a finding, I should note that TAI members themselves have stated categorically that they would never take part in a violent and distressing criminal activity of the sort alleged, adding that they will shoot the legs off anybody who suggests otherwise.

(*) I use the term "relationship" in much the same fashion that certain of my acquaintances use of their marriages, which is to say a situation in which each party has a powerful desire to murder the other(**).
(**) How unlike my own marriage. I am delighted to be able to inform my readers that there has been a definite rapprochement with my dear wife Ylatea following the news of her pregnancy. So much so, indeed, that last night she actually let me stay for a while in the former matrimonial home, where I was able to enjoy some of those family pastimes (***) that I have so greatly missed.
(***) vacuuming, cleaning the lavatories, unblocking the sinks &c.

Divided They Brawl

In my haste to bring you my little piece of good news yesterday (and, I must admit, my desire to make a few libations to the fertility gods for smiling on me) I omitted to impart any other news to you. Fortunately I am in a position to rectify this oversight today, the chief item of interest being the decision of Prime Minister Schlop and Finance Minister Bragdny Door to give speeches on exactly the same subject, at exactly the same time but in completely different locations. Many have put this down to a desire on the part of one or both to upstage the other, a view which has been given more than a little credence by the Prime Minister's decision to offer those attending a free meal at one of Blizsta's top restaurants(*). Despite this I can assure you that there were good reasons for the decision to address the same subject from different locations, the first being the undesirability of locating the two most powerful men in the country (pace President Bush) in the same place given the present nervousness over terrorist threats, and the second being that the last time the two men were placed in the same room Mr Door attempted to assault the Prime Minister with a set of briefing papers. In any event, I am sure we can all be gladdened by the knowledge that there still exists a matter on which two such important men can agree, even if that matter is their mutual detestation of each other.

(*) given the standards of Blizsta's restaurants, this might not be thought to be the greatest incentive; it was, however, somewhat preferable to the inducement offered by Mr Door, namely free copies of his 73 volume guide to Post Neo-Classical Endogenous Growth Theory.

Good News Everybody!

While I realise that the purpose of this "blog" is to inform readers of events here in Albia, I hope they will not mind if I depart briefly from my usual practice by making a personal announcement: I am delighted to be able to tell you that my dear wife Ylatea is pregnant and expecting our firstborn some time in August. I cannot tell you how happy this news makes me. Indeed, I had hoped to persuade Vlotar to shut up the cybercafe and come out with me to celebrate, but sadly he continues to exhibit such a state of nervous distraction(*) that I felt unable to call on his comradeship. Indeed, when I mentioned my good news to him he simply started shaking and gulping and reached for his twenty-third cigarette of the morning. I simply cannot work out what might be wrong with him.

In any event, it is my fond hope - indeed, it is my belief - that this good news may result in a final reconciliation with Ylatea and my return to her side. Glad tidings indeed, I hope you will agree.

(*) see A Change of Address.

A Manifestation

With his usual lack of political eptness(*) Nyesti Party leader Zavlov Nizder has chosen to launch the first instalment of his party's new manifesto on what is, due to the tragic events elsewhere(**), the perfect day to bury his good news. In the course of the launch - details of which I anticipate will be found somewhere on page 22 of most Albian newspapers tomorrow, nestled next to the advertisements for incontinence underwear - Mr Nizder emphasised his desire to speak for "the forgotten majority". Given the Nyesti leader's reputation(***), I at first assumed this phrase to refer to all those generations of Albians now dead but, according to his aides(****), Mr Nizder was actually referring to the "law-abiding and hard-working" people of Albia. I confess the idea that the majority of people in Albia are both law-abiding and hard-working struck me as somewhat novel, particularly coming from a Nyesti politician.

Whatever the merits of the manifesto, my readers will be glad to know that it is entirely recyclable. Indeed, I expect most of its contents to find their way into the Krep Party manifesto just in time for the election.

(*) I hope my readers will forgive this, admittedly somewhat facetious, new coinage.
(**) In this regard, might I take the liberty of directing my readers' attention to the Disasters Emergency Committee's website?
(***) Not to mention his tendency to react to the calls of Albia's famous wolves by inviting companions to "Listen to the children of the night".
(****) Many of whom could pass for fully human were it not for the scars across their brows and bolts through their necks.

The Wanderer Returns

The main item concerning the Albian media today is Prime Minister Schlop's decision to continue his holiday while, all over the globe, countries and their leaders were making great efforts to help out those people and areas devastated by the recent tsunami. Ministers are now stressing that Mr Schlop's decision was in no way connected with the fact that remarkably few of those affected were likely to vote in the upcoming Albian general election, adding that the Prime Minister had been eager to help in any way he could and was only dissuaded with the very greatest difficulty from his plan to journey to the worst affected areas and feed the starving multitudes using only five loaves and two fishes. In any event, my readers should be assured that Mr Schlop has been spending every available moment(*) thinking of those affected by these terrible events and has, according to officials, been on the phone to Blizsta "at least twice this week".

(*) ie every moment not taken up by snorkelling, water ski-ing, lounging at pool-side or slapping on another layer of factor 15 sun lotion.

A Change Of Address

And so, here I am, back in Blizsta following my sojourn in Frelsveorthig and eager to return to my appointed task of keeping my readers up-to-date with all the news from Albia. Before I do so, however, Vlotar(*) has asked me to mention a minor administrative matter, namely that this "blog" has "changed its address" and can now be reached via "www.messagefromalbia.com". Apparently I am to ask you to "bookmark this address", whatever that is supposed to mean.

(*) I have to say, on my return I found the poor fellow looking rather peaky. Admittedly, his deep and abiding interest in computer-related matters has led to a certain habitual pallor, but this has deepened to such an extent that several cybercafe employees have fled on seeing him, presuming the place to be haunted. He has also taken up smoking, a habit he indulges in with such enthusiasm that, even as I type, I can see him absent-mindedly rolling up his mouse pad and attempting to light it. What can have induced this state of nervous distraction I cannot say. The fellow is so jumpy that when I attempted to inquire after my dear wife Ylatea(**) he nearly jumped out of his seat.
(**) whom Vlotar has kindly been attending to in my absence - see Snow News.