As Italy teeters on the brink of democratic expression, the rest of the world gathered together to screw up it’s face in incomprehension and cry, “Really Italy, him again? Were the multiple betrayals and industrial level STD’s he brought home not reason enough to kick the habit? He’s bad for you Italy. He’s bad candy. Sweet poison. Rotten… chutney… We’re getting off topic. Sure he has to take a helicopter to check his post in the morning and a hairdo that all the buttermilk in Cavan couldn’t replicate, but gods-bodkins have some self-respect!”
Across Europe the great and good weighed in on the upcoming vote. German premier Frau Merkel expressed veiled apprehension at the prospect of her old friend returning to the helm of the ailing Italian economy:
“I mean, it’s not just the odd time. EVERY time he comes over he brings a litre of brandy, a courgette and one of those damned blue pills.”
Renowned bore Mario Monti had little to say on his opponent… that anybody payed attention to:
“_______ <vowel noise> ____ fiscally___ <sound of his name dropping in the opinion polls>”
In Ireland, An Taoiseach was apparently unavailable for comment when asked by a journalist from ThePotato.ie but the following voicemail message perhaps revealed more about his personal relationship with Mr Berlusconi than he intended:
“So’s I’mm ona fact finder. Yeah. Wha? No, no more frigging Grappa ya mad hoor ya. Jaysus. Look, I’m off on a work thing. Just bother Noonan or one of the lads. Himself told me a lass was coming who can fit a courgette in’ner twa…. <dialtone>”
See you soon Silvio, we were poorer for having lost you. Speaking as a comedy writer. Not as a European citizen.