The Italian Knob

An Italian visitor declares that Silvio Berlusconi is the biggest “pezzo di merda” in Western Europe. I feel obliged to reprimand him for his intemperate outburst.

“Sir, your remark is uncharitable for the Christmas season. Western Europe is full of enormous pezzi di merda. Perhaps Signor Berlusconi is the biggest one in Italy, although he has tough competition, what with the Mafia and Lapo Elkann.”

There follows a civil exchange of views in which our guest cites the following examples of objectionable conduct by the Italian prime minister:

1) He wore a headscarf following a hair transplant operation, giving the excuse that he had whimsically decided to dress like a pirate.

2) He discussed his wife’s extramarital affairs with other European politicians.

3) He complimented the American president-elect on his tan.

I offer no mitigation for the first complaint. The leader of a civilised nation should never give succour to pirates, even if it is limited to copying their sartorial habits. We quickly dismiss the possibility that he had converted to Islam and was wearing the hijab. A hedonistic fellow like Berlusconi would never give up wine purely to adopt a particular form of headdress.

On the second allegation, I am far more inclined to leniency. Frankly, I can’t see much wrong in gossiping about your estranged wife’s sex life, even if the aim is to divert attention from your own debaucheries. A cuckold has his rights, and it wasn’t as if he was kissing-and-telling or revealing bedroom secrets. Indeed, his behaviour may have done much to dispel the unpleasant stereotype of the jealous Latin lover, chasing his rival with a meat cleaver.

On the third point, I am not sure what to think. Barry Obama certainly has a fine-looking tan, but drawing attention to it may be tactless. I know enough about humans to be aware that a hue obtained from a visit to the tropics is crucially different from a congenital complexion. All the same, I sense that Barry is the kind of man to take such remarks in his stride and give the wag making them a smack on the back for his impudence. He certainly has the sun-tanned look of a coffee-commercial actor. Perhaps he should star in such an advertisement with the Secretary of State presumptive, to help her pay off her campaign debts. Imagine them together on a yacht, Barry loitering on deck with his shirt unbuttoned as Hillary brings him light refreshment in a bikini:

“Mmm-hmm! You sure make a mean cup of coffee, Hilldog!” he might say after savouring a long sip with his eyes closed.

I hear that the hotels in DC are fully booked for Barry’s inauguration in January. I expect they’re all terribly excited about the speech he is going to make. I hope he comes up with some new material rather than rehashing all the old stuff about “change, we can do it, yes we can”. If I were his speech writer, I’d make sure Britney Spears got a mention after all the trouble she’s been through. It’s very easy to criticise a woman for exposing her shaven cha-cha to photographers, but don’t forget that she was driven to it by her ex-husband, a worm so disreputable that even other worms find him slimy.

Never have I witnessed a celebrity divorce where the blame was so much on one side. Had I been the presiding judge, I would have sternly rebuked the repulsive rapster before plucking him like a Christmas fowl.

“Federline,” I would have said, “you are a talentless bounder! I hereby give full custody of the children to Miss Spears. You must also give her all your assets, including the clothes you are wearing. Officer of the court, strip this man at once! Leave his briefs on, though, he has caused enough offence for one day.”

Anyway, I hope that President Obama finds a job for Britney in his administration. Nothing too important, just a little something to allow her to regain her pride and present the middle finger to her critics. Given the state of her nether regions, ambassador to Brazil might be a good post.

The Japing Ape wishes his readers a Merry Christmas and will return in one week.
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