The Zig

Germany’s next top political model

// June 18th, 2009 // People, Things that happened to me

Unless you live under a rock, or only watch Fox News you’ll be aware that the wheel fell of the democracy cart on it’s way to market, in Iran this week. It turns out what they thought all this time had been the democracy cart was little more than the dictatorship wagon covered with a dodgy paint job. So writing this post in which I will reveal my extreme ignorance and disinterest in the entire political process is somewhat topical and um, stupid. Luckily stupidity and I got into bed together a long time ago and I’m very comfortable in his presence.

Let’s begin.

The last month has been a pretty shitty one, the majority of it I’ve spent in bed, in pain, in hospital or all three. I could write many blog posts about my experiences, which I know from reliving them with friends would be funny, everyone loves misfortune as long as it belongs to someone else and this month I was hogging more than fair share. I probably won’t write those posts because thinking about it all is depressing and I’m a chipper, the glass is not half full, why it’s positively overflowing, look great spurts of (what liquid is supposed to be in the glass in the half full/half empty metaphor? Water/Gin/Mountain Dew?!??! Has that every been clarified?) , great spurts of mystery liquid are spewing out, its become a fountain and now unicorns and small children have come to frolic in it – kind of guy.

My parents dropped by this week, I got a call from Mum saying that UPS were outside with a parcel she’d send and the UPS people didn’t know which flat to ring as our names are not on the bell, could I go down a let them in. When I got down there I opened the door to find my Mum and Dad on the doorstep. My first thought was why are UPS sending two people to the door with the package? That’s not very efficient staff usage. Secondly why have UPS employed my parents? Mum is far too nosey to not open an interesting looking parcel and Dad hates driving on the right-hand side of the road. It turned our there was no package, I had been cheated. However when I tried to close the door on the UPS employee imposters they refused to leave citing parental privileges. I’d been careful to only give my address to select people to stop riff raff like these two arriving at my door, it turned out Annett had given it to them which is hardly a surprise. I get nervous every time we’re at the Airport because Annett is the sort of person who under even the lightest of question would confess us for a crime we haven’t committed. Ironic as being German she’s never actually broken a rule in her whole life, still she cracks under even the slightest questioning, it wouldn’t take the Stasi or anyone for that matter very long to get her secrets:

Man on street: Guten Tag!

Annett: I can’t tell you. He told me not to.

Man on street: Entschuldigung?!

Annett: Oh okay already don’t look at me like that, I can’t be burdened with this anymore. I’ll tell you what you want, I’ll tell you all of it, all the lies the secrets. He owes the NZ library service $4! Phew, it’s better to have that off my chest. Guten Tag.

I got my own back on the visiting riff raff by having had the foresight not to clean the toilet for several weeks (dirt is Mums kryptonite). She acted unphased and only the facial tick on one side of her face gave away the pain she felt inside.

With visitors comes hosting responsibilities, so I started leaving the flat again and being more mobile than I had the last few weeks. It was refreshing to get out of the flat and see what was going on in this inferior real world that everyone keeps banging on about.

It turns out there’s an election going on in Leipzig, and also some bigger Government parliament election thing for something call the “EU”. I don’t know the specifics, I’m English so we leave Europe to the Europeans to worry about.

A long time ago I freed myself from worrying about the trivialities of politics, you know the – issues, ideas, wings, principals, promises of the politicians both in power and vying for it. I think maybe it’s because I never really lived anywhere I had any great affinity for, somewhere that I would really call home and so my interest in future was passing at best, as that was all I was doing. Now with Leipzig being a place that feels warm and homely it’s time for me to make my vote count!

I think I did vote once at my University for some kind of election, I voted for the person with the funniest name in each category, was a good day to be Sarah Koch, one of the few I bet. I understand the importance of voting, I have just sort of ignored it. I’ve always figured that when whatever country I’m in really needs me to vote, they’ll flick on the bat light or something. Only it will be a caricature of my face, and I’ll see it from my secret lair and come out and realize that now I must care. I’ll make a lot to learn about the politicians, understand the problems facing the next government, make an informed decision and head to the polling station where I’ll vote for the person with the funniest name.

Having unburdened myself from actually having to care about the politics of politics, I’m free to focus on what really matters – what the candidate looks like!

Luckily I got a good look at them as they’d thoughtfully put up pictures of themselves all over the city. Presumably so I and like minded fellow citizens could draw moustaches and cheeky goatees on their faces on the way home from the pub.

I really want to pick the right candidate to receive my vote (I’m eligible to vote here), so I’ve spent extensive time studying the faces of the candidates, you might not have that much time so I’ll summarize them down for you:

Dieter Deissler, Now that’s an expression to be proud of, it’s equal parts cocksure and utterly confused, a mixture of “what’s for dinner honey” and “who’s shit on my shoes”?

Franz Taraschka. What’s going on here Franz? Trying to be a big shot? “No mum I can’t talk right now, got to get my photo taken for the paper, yeah I’ll be round for dinner later”.

Do you think you’re a real go to man because your talking on the phone whilst bicycling? Does a bicycle show you a commoner like the rest of us? Well, all it shows me is that you, Sir, are a health and safety violator! Mobile phones should not be used during the operation of a bicycle.

Thomas Zeitler. I know what you’re thinking – I’ve seen this man before. You’re right to think that, you have seen this man before he’s none other than the bastard love child of

Dr Evil & an egg…

Look at his perfect conical dome! I just want to get out a little teaspoon and whack the side of a few times. I’m finding it hard not to do Egg puns here, so I’ll just done one to end my review of Eggy, I wouldn’t vote for him because I’m concerned he might crack under the pressure!

Mathias Weber.

Mathias: Dad, dad can I borrow the car again this weekend?

No son, you remember what happened last time, when you went to a party got high on ‘shrooms drove home and crashed it into the neighbours cow.

Mathias: That was an isolated incident, and like weeks ago now, can’t you just let it go?

I’ll let it go, when you get a haircut and a job you scruffy little delinquent. Why are you holding a notepad?

Mathias: I’m not sure, its just something I’m trying out, I think maybe it makes me look more intelligent.

You look like a work experience waiter. Put it down.

Mathias: Can you lend me a fiver?

Can Chimpanzees fart the national anthem?

Ingo Sasama. Ingo?! I-N-G-O hang on wasn’t that the guy that stole that baby in Australia? Oh no wait that was someone else.

People who have facial hair are 97% more likely to be good people than people without facial hair. This is an established fact. Facial hair = good. People with facial hair = better.

Check out Ingo’s proud maine, full yet groomed like a lovable uncle. Uncle Ingo.  Now we’re getting somewhere.

I’m sure if the whole world just voted for the person with the best facial hair we’d see no war, we’d see no famine – where a beard leads, happiness follows.

Clearly the greatest thing about Manfred is his name – Manfred. It’s genius. Manfred, say it now – M-a-n-f-r-e-d, feels good doesn’t it? I’ve long been searching for a name for my first born son, a search I can now officially call off.

Ulrich took the afternoon off from playing World of Warcraft to come outside for this photo. He found the walk up from his basement tiring. The direct sunlight sharper and more intense on his pasty skin than that found in the MMRPG Runescape Neverwinter Lifenights where he is a level 53 warlock.

Brigitte travelled back from the year 2090 in the DeLorean. Despite being an Android her mimicry of human emotion and expression are almost faultless , thanks to her long study of various Evil Headmistresses from TV and film – the only thing we she can’t get right – the subtle arc of the human eyebrow.

I guess you know who my vote will go to – that nice man (with the beard) Ingo Sasama congratulations you are Germany’s next top political model! Well unless a late entrant called manfred fuchs joins, in which case all bets are off.

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