Commuting between Holland and the UK made me realise that I’m homeless.
Not really in a cardboard box but mentally, politically, socially, geographically and psychotically. (Funny word, made it up) It all came out when somebody asked me where I celebrate Xmas and who I support in football; I unplugged Xmas and though I love football, I have no real warm feelings for any national team.
Holland? a bunch of lazy millionaires with the WAGS that have an IQ of minus 22? (combined). England? That plays more backwards than forward and where young talents are still too young when they are 35?
France? That changed Newcastle into a permanent training camp for its national team? Spain? That always wins? So reluctantly I trend to Germany, that organises its football as its country’s economy: efficient and value for money.
But also in business I feel homeless. Hollands economy is worse than Greece, England’s trade and industry is like its football, full of back passes, France is still bankrupt but nobody seems to bother and president Hollande has a concubine like all his predecessors.
In Italy the ex-president is in jail and Spain has so many empty properties that it could house the whole of Scotland in the outskirts of Madrid. And nobody seems to give a damn! So which country should I donate my taxes to?
But even by the “doom and gloom” press we are climbing out of the crisis we just got so used to; so I smelled business and try to earn some cash to kick start small companies to trade again overseas. But who wants to listen to me, a double middle aged so called European expert who thinks he knows it all.
And in all honesty, I collected most of my expertise in great Italian ristorantes, Spanish bodegas, French Brasseries, German Bratwurst stations with Belgian chips. I bypassed the Dutch fast food industry on my way to a Scandinavian Smørrebrød buffet and crossed the Channel for some fish and chips wrapped in the Sunday Telegraph from 1967.
Anyhow, W-Europe will soon be overcrowded by millions of Rumanians and Bulgarians who according to the tabloids will take possession of our jobs, houses and maybe nick my cardboard homeless box.
And they all want to come to the UK; I have seen Spanish real estate agents in Calais offering the new Europeans free housing in Marbella but they seem to prefer Fish&Chips above Tapas. For me a no-brainer but I am homeless and confused.
The BulgaManians were shocked as they heard that David Cameron has closed his social benefits tills for the first three months, so to finance their landing in the UK, they asked the Eurotunnel for a permit set up stalls next to the tracks where can the sell the “souvenirs” “collected” on their travel through Germany.
Back to the sports; the Winter Olympics are approaching rapidly and most of the Western leaders will boycott the games to express that they are not happy with the Russian version of human rights.
Our Dutch PM, Mark Rutten decided to go after all. His official motivation? This could be an opportunity to tell Vladimir the karate champion, that he mistreats gay people. I see following scenario: Rutten interrupts the 10.000 meter speed skating final (which we win anyway) and celebrates the 1000st Dutch homo wedding on the ice track to show Putin hat this could win him gay votes. (groom and groom are on skates off course)
Our Olympic 10.000 meter Champion will be best man and will complete the final round hand-in-hand with the newly wed couple named Harry and Harry.
As no politicians are attending in Sochi, the Russians might invite the French troubadour Dieudonné M’Bala M’Bala to sing the Russian national hymn. He is available as the French authorities bypassed their human rights and forbid his concerts as his songs had slight anti-zionistics content; and his mate, West-Bromwich footballer Nicolas Anelka could carry the Olympic flame.
As you see, I now I am even more confused and still mentally homeless. So I might join the immigrants at the Eurotunnel and sell Dutch clogs with a Union Jack on it.