Orfulbad News

With yet more arrests in relation to the recent attacks on Blizsta(1) occurring even as I type and the ripples flowing across the political waters following yesterday's announcement by the TAI still forming too confused a pattern to assess accurately(2), I thought it appropriate to look elsewhere in Albia for today's report. As luck would have it the biggest item of news comes from the benighted city of Orfulbad, which after having weathered both the demise of Phydoh Cars and the birth of Berot Yolik-Lesk, has now been struck by a tornado. Given that eyewitnesses claim that the storm caused considerable damage to several streets in Albia's second-largest city I shall refrain from making the usual facetious remark about the freak wind having caused millions of pahnds of improvements.

(1) see A Meeting of Minds, The Police That Passeth All Understanding, Missing in Action, It Lives, Usafe from USAF and Blizsta Can Take It.
(2) At least those are the grounds on which I will justify to the Head of News back in the UK my reluctance to wade into the aforementioned troubled waters of Trubbld today(3).
(3) I certainly won't be seeking to place the blame on an overlong stay in the Bor yt Hunza last night and can assure you I wholly reject any suggestion that I have used the absence of my dear wife Ylatea(4) to go on what I am told is referred to as "an all-night bender".
(4) see An Aside. She assures me she is doing well, that young Vlotar is looking after all her needs most manfully and that her morning sickness has entirely vanished now she no longer has me to wake up to my grinning face every AM.

The Heavy Hand of History

In what would until recently have been hailed as an event of extraordinary historical significance, the Trubbld Independence Army has announced that it is to cease its "armed campaign". It has further ordered all volunteers not to engage in any activity which is not political, democratic and carried out by peaceful means(1). Many reasons have been put forward for the TAI's decision: pro-independence leader, and alleged TAI member, Joray Byrdi, has claimed it is the product of a lengthy period of soul-searching; Prime Minister Schlop has hailed it as the product of history and his own genius; and leader of the largest "loyalist" party Yon Tartan has, in his usual temperate manner, called it the devious and twisted action of a group of vicious criminals intent on attacking every loyalist in their beds.

(1) given that so few political activities in Albia are both democratic and peaceful this seems rather an advanced step for a group of men and women who until recently considered racketeering, bank-robbing(2), knee-capping, punishment beating and drug smuggling to be innocent pastimes with which to while away the odd idle moment.
(2) see Schloppy Defending.

The Rings Of Confidence

Regular readers(1) may recall that prior to the recent wave of doleful tidings(2) there was one brief moment of happiness here in Albia, namely the decision to award the 2012 Olympic games to the capital, Blizsta. Today is an ideal occasion on which to revisit those glad tidings, given that the opening ceremony for those games is to occur exactly seven years from today. Partly to celebrate this occasion (and mainly to start the business of raising the vast sums necessary to fund the games) a new set of "scratch cards" has been launched by Albia's national lottery, the Nochanz. While some have been quick to attack this method of funding as wholly inappropriate, I must say it seems to me to be perfectly suited, particularly as my bookmaker advises me that the chances of the assorted stadia, infrastructure improvements and security arrangements necessary for the games being ready by 2012 are, like those of winning the Nochanz, somewhat less than fourteen million to one.

(1) I continue to assure the Head of News back in Blighty that such people do exist and that my employment as a foreign correspondent is worthwhile despite all her misgivings.
(2) see eg A Meeting of Minds, The Police That Passeth All Understanding, Missing in Action, It Lives, Usafe from USAF and Blizsta Can Take It.

A Meeting of Minds

Today the leaders of Albia's leading political parties, along with the Drid Party's Yin Flok, met to discuss the present terror threat facing the country(1). All three are apparently ad idem, believing that Albia's security services need additional powers to deal with the aforementioned threat. This does, I admit, cause me a moment's pause, especially given that (a) it is confessed by all concerned that none of the planned additional powers would have prevented the recent attacks and (b) given that the events of the past few days would suggest the the police already have the power to act as judge, jury and executioner(2) it is difficult to see what further powers they could require.

(1) by which I mean the terrorist threat (see eg Missing in Action, It Lives, Usafe from USAF and Blizsta Can Take It) rather than the police threat (see The Police That Passeth All Understanding).
(2) on this point it is worth noting that rumours are presently being circulated by the police that last Thursday's unfortunate victim had outstayed the term permitted by his entry visa. While willing to concede that this is a relatively serious matter, I am sure that no-one could possibly argue that it is deserving of summary execution ... at least no-one who is not a reader of those favourite Albian tabloid newspapers Da Heyt, Da Zennofob or Da Tytz)

The Police That Passeth All Understanding

There is a spectre haunting Blizsta, a spectre which stalks the streets of Albia's capital and - like the incessant rain(1) which we have seen in the past few days - has almost entirely emptied the once-busy streets of people. The spectre, I regret to say, is that of the Blizsta's Capital(2) Police, whose newly instituted anti-terrorism policy, combined with an average intelligence quotient generally sufficient outside the police service only to qualify for an appearance on reality television, has led to a tendency to shoot-to-kill anyone whose skin is a shade darker than Tipp-Ex. I can only advise visitors to the capital not wishing to be gunned down whilst engaged in such - to the police - nefarious activities as buying a newspaper or sitting in a library, to take all reasonable steps to avoid being African, Middle Eastern, Asian, Latin American, Southern European, to have spent any time in a tanning salon or to be a member of Atomic Kitten.

(1) which, incidentally was not quite incessant enough to prevent the Albian plokkij team being utterly humiliated in the opening match of the Dregz series.
(2) "Capital" here is the official title of Blizsta's police force and bears no relation to the old-fashioned usage of the adjective indicative of excellence.

Missing in Action

As readers may have gathered from my total failure to report on the major news from yesterday, namely the attempted – and thankfully failed - bombings here in Blizsta, I spent much of yesterday away from what I like to think of as my newsdesk(1) watching the Dregz plokkij match between Albia and Cobba, where the only appalling goings on involved the Albian first XI. Today I read on the interweb of a shooting of a man by police on one of Albia's underground trains. Frankly, as someone who these days regards himself chiefly as a reporter on political events, I am not at all sure I feel cut out for this sort of thing. In the circumstances I hope my readers will forgive me if I retire to the safety of the Bor yt Hunza for the present.

(1) And others prefer to think of as the seat in Vlotar's cybercafe nearest to the lavatories(2)
(2) Which, should Vlotar be reading this(3), could do with a clean.
(3) Readers will recall that he is presently away in Frelsveorthig looking after my dear wife Ylatea (see An Aside)

Doublethink Or Nothing

Given that Albia is a place where seemingly even the calendar is mutable(1), it should come as little surprise to my readers to discover that the latest statistics from the government prove beyond doubt that violent crime in this country is both rising and falling at exactly the same time. For once the reason for this duality is not simply that the government is lying but rather to the fact that (for reasons best known to ... well absolutely no-one not presently in a high-security asylum) Albia's governments have for many years published two sets of crime statistics. The first details crime as recorded by Albia's police forces and almost always indicates that crime is rising to ever higher levels. Bearing in mind that these statistics then form the basis of calls to increase spending on those same police forces, some might be inclined to question their accuracy(2). Meanwhile the annual Albian crime survey - compiled by asking people whether they have been a victim of crime in the past 12 months - always shows that crime is falling faster than a miscreant down the stairs of an Albian police station. I confess that I suspect this latter report more accurately reflects the true state of events, if only due to the fact that thanks to the appallingly high crime statistics and the assorted terrifying headlines adorning the front pages of Da Heyt, most Albians are too afraid to leave their homes to either commit or be victims of crime.

(1) see yesterday's report.
(2) Indeed some have noted that the fact that the presence of vast numbers of criminals on Albia's streets is a significant argument in favour of a larger and better-equipped police force may also be the reason why Albia's police officers seem so reluctant to try to apprehend anyone.

The Times They Are A-Changing

Welcome to the umpteenth of Fibulary or, as it may well be, the twiddly-seventh of Dodecember. I fear that we here in Albia have been thrown into something of a calendarial panic since yesterday (or, in the circumstances, possibly since tomorrow) following Finance Minister Bragdny Door's decision to arrogate to himself the power to alter what I understand from the more photo- and gyno- phobic habitués of Vlotar's cybercafe is known as the "time-space continuum". Given that this continuum is what ensures that, say, we don't die before we are born, that rain falls down rather than leaps up and that the Earth on which we live is not presently a molten ball freshly minted from the flotsam and jetsam cluttering up outer space, this has been a matter of more than a little concern. Nonetheless Finance Minister Door has assured the nation that he has taken this step only for the very best of reasons, namely in order to fiddle the figures. It would seem that had the space-time continuum continued as before there was no possible way in which Mr Door could have satisfied his so-called golden-rule(1,2), thus forcing him to sacrifice the very laws of physics themselves in order to save his political career. Next week I understand Prime Minister Schlop is to prevent his own career from sinking into the mire by abolishing the law of gravity.

(1) it would now seem that, rather like the Maltese Falcon, the golden rule is in fact a lead counterfeit.
(2) I should perhaps admit at this point that I have no idea whatsoever what Mr Door's golden rule is, save that it has something to do with the amount of borrowing permissible over something known as "the economic cycle"(3).
(3) Hitherto I had understood the economic cycle to be a cheap way of washing one's clothes in a washing machine.

Faith-ing the Facts

I must confess (not, admittedly, for the first time) to a degree of confusion. Normally when Prime Minister Schlop announces he is to have a meeting with persons of faith he is referring to the two or three people within the PM's Noy Krep Party who still believe him capable of walking on the water, feeding thousands with just a few loaves and fishes, causing the lame to walk &c, notwithstanding the fact that he can't even get the Albian Health Service to function, the Intelligence Services to act intelligently or the schools system to turn out persons capable of speaking in anything other than a series of guttural monosyllables(1). On this occasion, however, he was speaking of a meeting between himself and senior representatives of the Islamic faith in Albia, all of whom - as one might have expected- used the opportunity to condemn unreservedly the bombings of two weeks ago(2). This gesture will I am sure reassure many, although, given that one can presume that those involved in the attack would have felt that none of those present at the meeting represented their own views, the whole affair does seem rather like getting the Archbishop of Blizsta to condemn an action by the Lebanese Christian phalange.

(1) in fairness, the Albian language consists largely of guttural monosyllables. Indeed, many visitors to the country are initially confronted with the same impression one gains on entering Holland, namely that a whole nation has decided to clear its throat at one.
(2) for previous coverage of which see Usafe from USAF and Blizsta Can Take It.

A Writer's Farewell To His Horz

It is with a heavy heart that I must speak of the death of Ded Harrumff, the man who as Nyesti Prime Minister of Albia in the early 1970's sought to bestride the political landscape like a colossus but ended up getting the more intimate parts of his political anatomy snagged on the political barbed-wire fence. A man renowned for his wide-ranging interests outside politics - interests which saw him, for instance, conducting the world-renowned Albian orchestra for the deaf and becoming the first serving Prime Minister to win the St Gozondor's Park model-boating lake regatta(1), Horz Ded will undoubtedly be remembered for two achievements in his political life: first his success in getting Albia to enter the - as it then was - European Economic Community (given the less-than-friendly attitude of Albians to the EU since becoming a member state, it is thought that most Albians thought that the verb "to enter" was being used in this context as a euphemism for one of the coarser terms for sexual intercourse); secondly, the fact that his failures in the domestic political sphere led the powers-that-were in the Nyesti party to deem someone as steely of hairstyle and as swivelly of eye as Barmi Ruuffah to be a suitable successor.

(1) Sadly an attempt to repeat the result a year later saw the PM's craft, Enin Stennit, sink without trace.

A Moment To Reflect

Some have questioned my failure to cover the two minutes' silence held here in the Albian capital Blizsta yesterday. This was undoubtedly a very moving ceremony in which almost the whole of the city came to a halt, with even the mighty roar of the capital's traffic silenced as people paid their respects. I must confess that, owing to a defective digital watch (supplied, I am sad to say, by one in whom I had vested great trust he being a fellow users of Vlotar's cybercafe) and a somewhat confused body clock, I held my own two minutes' silence at 9.23 am and assumed that the actual period of reflection and resultant halting of the traffic was merely one of the standard "failures of vehicular throughput" which result from trying to put a vast number of 21st century motor vehicles through a city first designed for a few 1st century horse carts and the odd Roman legion.

(1) see Usafe from USAF and Blizsta Can Take It.

It Lives

The news here in Albia continues, understandably, to be dominated by the repercussions of last week's attack on Blizsta(1). Amid the gloom, however, there was one small ray of hope: namely the possible resurrection of the late but relatively unlamented Phydoh Cars(2). It seems that the company, seen by some as the best thing to come out of the city of Orfulbad since Berot Yolik-Lesk(3) may somehow have found itself a buyer willing to treat it as a going concern(4). The company's administrators have thus far refused to identiufy the potential new buyer beyond identifying it as "a significant concern of Far Eastern origins" but - after some extensive digging among my contacts in the business world(5) - I can disclose that it is none other than Mr Hu of The Golden Dragon Restaurant on Blizsta's busy Dinjy Ztraht.


(1) see Usafe from USAF and Blizsta Can Take It.
(2) for details of the demise of which, see Worse Than Its Bite, Dog Day Afternoon and Barking Up The Wrong Tree.
(3) Not, admittedly an especially marvelllous boast.
(4) Which is better treatment than most of its products ever received, although this may have been due to the fact that so many of them whilke causing great concern, didn't go at all.
(5) A surprising number of whom can be found at the Bor yt Hunza.

An Aside

Given the continued bleak nature of the news here in Albia, this seems as good a point as any to respond to all those who have enquired after my dear wife Ylatea's health following last week's dreadful events. I am happy to say that she is well, although the combination of last Thursday's attack and her gravid state left her in a highly distressed and enfeebled state, so much so that when I returned home that evening she screamed "But I thought you were dead!", before bursting into inconsolable tears. Given her distress and the relative imminence of the happy event of the birth of our child, we felt it best that she should leave Blizsta for the present and I am happy to say that young Vlotar volunteered to take her up to her relatives in Frelsveorthig yesterday.

USAFe From USAF

I am sad to have to inform you that certain members of the news media here in Albia have chosen to criticise certain members of the American military in rather less than temperate terms this morning, following the decision of the US Air Force to bar all its personnel from Blizsta following last week's attack on the capital(1), notwithstanding calls by Prime Minister Schlop, the Head of the Capital Police, the Mayor of Albia Nyute Nayzulvoiss, union officials, business leaders and, indeed, old uncle Tom Cobbley and all to call for "business as usual" in the capital. I have to say such criticism seems to me ill-founded. Having had extensive experience of working with the US armed forces during my time reporting on the first Gulf War(2) I feel I can safely say that the last thing Albia's chief city needs at this moment is a group of jumpy US service men and women wandering the streets, doubtless in full combat gear and armed to the teeth and ready to shoot anyone of "terrorist appearance" (a description which, given its absolute vagueness combined with the tendency of members of the US military to wear dark glasses at all opportunities, seem likely to cover just about anybody) on sight.

(1) see Blizsta Can Take It.
(2) At this point I feel I might take the opportunity to deny absolutely the suggestions found in the "auto"biographies of some of my former colleagues in Baghdad that I spent most of my time during the 1990 Gulf conflict cowering under a blanket with a bottle of Johnny Walker Red Label in my room in Baghdad's Al Rasheed hotel. As all who know me will aver I never drink Red Label when the Black Label is available.

Blizsta Can Take It

I need not add to the many words which have already been spoken and written about the series of bombs which exploded in Blizsta last Thursday, other than to add my voice to the many others expressing their horror at what occurred and my sympathies to the victims - direct and indirect - of the attacks. I will, however, take this opportunity to jot down a few words about the aftermath.

For much of the morning and early afternoon, the capital was bathed in a heavy and unforgiving rain, of a sort more naturally associated with Autumn than the middle of summer. People sat inside their buildings, radios and television sets tuned to the news, wondering what exactly had happened and what was to happen next. Men and women passing each other in corridors and on shopfloors grimaced at each other briefly, in what is perhaps the greatest expression of shared pain and deep understanding available to such a habitually phlegmatic people as the Albians.

In the afternoon, however, the sun came out. The people of Blizsta gradually moved away from the television screens towards their windows. Official calls to stay inside began to be ignored as more and more spotted the opportunity to head off early to be with loved ones or, as the case may be, to make a bee-line for the nearest hostelry to analyse the day's horrible events over a pint. By four o'clock the capital's main streets - which had been eerily free of traffic after being closed off by the police - were filled with crocodiles of people heading homeward, chatting with each other about "X in accounts" or "Y in the canteen" as much as the attack. Youths carried luggage for the elderly, rather than merely carrying it off. Policemen and women greeted passersby in a friendly and helpful manner, before offering assistance or directions with a cheery smile and a friendly wave. The whole effect was, I confess, most peculiar and had it not been for reports in the following days of certain hotels allegedly raising their prices ten-fold to take advantage of the stranded, I might have begun to believe I had somehow woken in the wrong city.

Not Today I Think

No, not today.

Running 5 Rings Round The Opposition

It is only rarely that I am rendered speechless(1), yet I must confess that the decision to award the 2012 Olympic Games to Blizsta(3) has come remarkably close to having exactly that effect(4). Throughout this ancient capital hearts skipped a beat on hearing the news (partially due to the honour of winning, partly due to the joy of defeating the French and partly due to the worryingly high rate of heart disease here in Albia) and then skipped several more at the thought of the eventual cost of staging the whole affair.

Happily I am proud to say that the Blizsta bid team has managed to “hit the ground running” and that the city’s Mayor Nyute Nayzulvoiss has announced wide-ranging plans to improve the capital before the great event, including providing proper signage for the toilet facilities (or “streets” as non-Blizstans know them), several new transport initiatives (which may even extend to the capital having a working mode of transport) and a cunning scheme to repackage the city’s air as a long-lasting wood-preservative.

(1) Well, relatively rarely(2).
(2) Well, only on any occasion when potato-based alcohol is being served.
(3) For previous mention of which, see Five Ring Circus. I should at this point note that I hereby exercise the traditional right of all columnists to ignore any claims I may have made in the past which have ultimately proved to be wholly incorrect, such as my apparent prediction that Paris would win the games.
(4) Admittedly aided by the consumption of one or two celebratory measures of the aforementioned potato-based alcohol.

Let Them Eat Jacques

Being a foreign correspondent of some seniority(1) I am happy to confirm that the French diplomatic service is famed around the globe. Staffed almost solely by lesser and greater scions of that great country's noble houses (whose continued existence despite the events of the French revolution and the subsequent terror is itself a testament to a certain degree of skill in matters of diplomacy) the corps diplomatique is a byword for charm, wit and skilled negotiation. Given all this, it can only be assumed that many of these suave aristos will be praying for the reintroduction of the guillotine, given President Chirac's latest less-than-tactful outburst against Albia(3). In his latest outburst, M. le President has attacked Albian food, claiming it is the worst in the world other than the Finnish. This has undoubtedly riled many Albians who stand proud in the knowledge that their national cuisine is truly without peer in its awfulness.

(1) Despite what my present posting here in Albia might lead my readers to believe(2).
(2) I feel it would be inappropriate to give details of the incident between myself and the Head of News at the office Christmas party all those years ago that is the true cause of being located here in Blizsta.
(3) Those seeking an example of a previous outburst are referred to Ever The Best of Friends.

Heed The World

And so there we have it: Zwari Mowthov's Live9 popular music event(1) has been and gone. What effect the assorted concerts - held all over the world - will have had on the leaders due at this week's K9 summit near can only be guessed at but it is certainly true that within hours of the concerts beginning, millions across the globe felt compelled to reach into their pockets to produce some cash, even if only because they have suddenly been reminded of their burning need to purchase the CD of Makka Thumzupp's greatest hits.

In unrelated news, I feel impelled to comment on the rumours which surfaced in the weekend papers that Prime Minister Schlop has fallen out with Ruud Eerz over Mr Eerz's less-than-sterling success in promoting the government's "respect agenda"(2). Responding to the claims, Mr Schlop has assured reporters that he has "100% faith" in his family-size Home Minister. Sadly for Mr Eerz, a quick glance at the history books suggests that the use of a term such as "100% faith", (or equally "absolute confidence" or "total backing") in relation to a Prime Minister's support for a minister usually precedes the latter's departure from government by a maximum of 3 months.

(1) see Aiding and Abetting and Popping The Question.
(2) by the way, I would be inordinately grateful if any of my readers could enlighten me as to what exactly this phrase means.

All President And Correct

Today has been one of some moment, with Albia taking over the Presidency of the European Union, which it will hold for the next six months (or until the EU irrevocably splits should that event occur before the end of December). Already Foreign Minister Vort Blinki has taken to the airwaves to announce that Albia's greatest priority will be to draft a "rational budget" for the EU, a plan which - given recent exchanges between Albia and France(1)- is generally viewed as having all the prospects of success of the Albian plokkij team in their upcoming test match series against Cobba(4) (which is to say no prospect whatsoever).

(1) see Ever The Best of Friends, Summit Up, The Big Issues, Show Me The Money and The Rebate Debate(2).
(2) indeed it is understood that air conditioning will not be required at EU summits for the foreseeable future, the presence of Prime Minister Schlop and President Jacques Chirac in the same room being sufficient to lower the temperature to a level found only in the remoter regions of outer space or an Albian pensioner's home during winter time.
(3) see Aiding and Abetting and Popping The Question.
(4) this contest is traditionally referred to as "The Dregz" and is named for the few drops of potato-based alcohol and bits of peel left from the vast vat drunk by the Albian plokkij team of 1882 after they were utterly humiliated by the Cobba under-fives second XI