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German Unity Sausage13 December 2011 Zie Nederlandse versie
by Arnold Jansen op de Haar
Following the talks in Brussels, the front page of The Times showed David Cameron as Manneken Pis aiming at the head of Nicolas Sarkozy, and the next day someone remarked to me that Nicolas Sarkozy and Angela Merkel reminded her of Punch and Judy.
Seeing EU President Herman van Rompuy always conjures up a picture of Professor Calculus from Tintin. Would the true leader please stand up? Because that’s the problem: we’re missing a leader with a vision.
Every time I travel to England by train, I have to change in Brussels and go outside to smoke a cigar near the statue of Paul-Henri Spaak, one of the founders of the European Union. It makes me sigh, because where the disparity between England and Europe is concerned I’m stuck in the Eurotunnel.
Mark Rutte, the Dutch Prime Minister, tried to convince David Cameron. They looked like two public schoolboys. Mark didn’t want to just let the boy who was being cold-shouldered by everyone walk away.
Besides, naughty Nicolas had refused to shake David’s hand. Actually, Mark wanted to stand up to bossy Angela, but she was the girl with the most pocket money. This girl financed his marbles, so it wasn’t possible.
Everyone likes Mark, despite his very large head. The problem is, Mark wants to be liked by all, but at a certain point you have to make a choice.
That’s why Mark finally admitted that David ‘had asked for too much’. OK, David had his own money, but why couldn’t he help the others out when they asked for it?
Mark wasn’t happy about it; after all, he’s an anglophile. Ask him to choose between ‘Udo Jürgens and Cliff Richard’ and he will opt for Cliff Richard. ‘Bratwurst or Christmas Pudding?’ ‘Christmas Pudding, of course.’
David couldn’t be all that bad. Only recently he had donated his pocket money to the pitiful Irish girls at the back of the class. They had lost all their money buying far too expensive dolls’ houses.
Unfortunately, Silvio had already been expelled. Silvio had a lot of pocket money, in spite of having poor parents. He also had a lot of girlfriends. No one understood how he managed this, because he wasn’t good looking and he had stayed down three times. But you could have a laugh with him about Angela, ‘Eastern Germany’s Brünnhilde’. Yet now neurotic Nicolas was leading the campaign for Angela’s election as head girl.
‘Little Napoleon Nicolas’ had been working towards David leaving. By now, that much was clear. He called David a spoilsport. French friends of Nicolas said about David, ‘He behaved like someone at a wife-swapping party who refuses to bring his own wife.’ David drily responded, ‘I don’t go to wife-swapping parties.’ Although he attended an international school, he was still very British. Wife-swapping parties, David thought; only French boys would make a comment like that.
Later, the school bulletin reported that David was allowed to stay at school but would be in a class on his own. Some disciplinary measures would be taken, but the twenty-six boys and girls hadn’t quite made up their mind about those.
David’s brother Nick phoned to say that David should keep negotiating with the others, so that there was a chance of it getting sorted after all.
The next day the classmates were sitting together during their lunch break. They were all getting a bit worried about what they would say at home; maybe the people at home agreed with David.
Head girl Angela entered the room. Her skirt was just a bit too tight around her buttocks; luckily Silvio was no longer around. ‘We’re going to have lots more debates,’ she shouted. ‘This is just the beginning!’
She handed out sandwiches. What was the filling? German unity sausage!
Deep down they were all a bit jealous of David. He was sitting somewhere in a corner, eating a huge Christmas Pudding with a big smile on his face, while dreaming of being on a small boat in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.
© Arnold Jansen op de Haar
© Translation Holland Park Press
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