Needless to say, things are getting livelier in the Landernau every day. As Bibi Exterminator washes redder, knocking indiscriminately between hairy bearded men and hairless clamps, the local redneck scapegoats of Tehran become agitated like a colony of cockroaches and begin to hatch, sometimes plans for revenge, sometimes dreams of cessation. fire, no doubt believing that they are going to negotiate with the king of the Belgians. Hassan Nasrallah is dead, but his methods are still changing!
And since there is not much to be gained from this side, at least as long as the current Legislative Sponsor continues to fly from victory to victory despite the military defeat on the ground, we regularly fall back on another derisory rattle: the presidential election.
Always quick to pounce on anything that passes near his desire, good old Basileus was the first to rush to Istiz Nabeuh in his hutch in Aïn el-Tiné, in search of a place to provide in Baabda, where he saw himself already parachuted. Now that his interlocutor is an orphan of his former bearded squire, the leader of the Citrus Party sees fit to make fun of the Shiite community, which, according to him, risks immediate massacre if it does not opt for its salutary umbrella. Which will not prevent him from resuming his goat jumps in case his rival Franju should confirm his intention to put his puck on the presidential throne.
Which Franju, after a stunned silence following the gaseous evaporation of his turbaned godfathers, makes small appearances again in the media, a bit like Botticelli’s Venus emerging naked from the waters. His unstoppable argument for standing together against the invading Hebrews can be summed up in five words: “These bastards killed Jesus! » He almost added that it was the Iranians who resurrected him, but that would probably have caused too much discussion…
Another occasional return: Meerab’s Unfeathered. He, despite his cohort of unbreakable deputies even in a caravanserai, still cannot manage to constitute an industrial breeding of geageaolatres ready to cut their veins for his tonsure. His failed experience in 2016 with Mongeneral Orangina apparently not being enough for him, he thought for a moment of inflicting another one on us by opening a timid breach towards the barbudopithecines. Failed! He then turned around and proposed a presidential election without the Shiites. Missed too! He may have served time in jail and then act of repentance, but the alchemy does not work. Dirty job…
Finally, what would be the use of a new prostate for six years at the Château? This upcoming presidential election looks more and more like a game of musical chairs: there are more pairs of buttocks than chairs, but the music remains the same. We will probably have to wait a bit to know the result of this autumn posturing. It is probably time for global warming to have finished cooking the ice floes and the last ice cubes from the ice cap.
It’s just a shame that Cul-i is untranslatable into Arabic.
Needless to say, things are getting livelier in the Landernau every day. As Bibi Exterminator washes redder, knocking indiscriminately between hairy bearded men and hairless clamps, the local redneck scapegoats of Tehran become agitated like a colony of cockroaches and begin to hatch, sometimes plans for revenge, sometimes dreams of cessation. the fire, doubtless believing…
