Onasagoras
One indisputable fact is that there is never a dull moment in this country. Apart from the Cyprus problem, which has been stuck in the mud and comatose for years, leaving it somewhat short on, shall we say....action, everything else delivers nonstop drama and daily twists. The latest chatter in political circles—and not just at fish tavernas—is that thoughts of the presidency had begun, ever so tentatively, to stir again in the mind of our national Prince. Not the presidency of Parliament. The presidency of the Republic. And no, AKEL did not feature in those thoughts. “Quick, some water—I need to recover,” a voice was heard crying in the gardens up on the Hill last week. Perhaps it was one of the new trolls on X. Perhaps not.
My black surveillance van—white and Orthodox, naturally—has ears everywhere. It also reads minds, even as thoughts are taking shape. Recently, the government had stepped up the pressure to secure a formal, binding commitment of support from DIKO. The pressure paid off: last night brought the first promises. You know how engaged couples “pledge to marry each other”? Well, these two pledged support, though just how mutual it is remains unclear. And just as the way to someone’s heart is through their stomach, the way to political support is through the cable. That one is for advanced puzzle-solvers. Let’s see: will DIKO get to claim this great victory? And will ELAM finally cease to be the government’s main pillar? Good luck untangling that lot.
Foulis (Averof) supplies us with material every day, so this column really cannot complain. Every day, a twist on top of a twist. As Vamvakidis used to say, “A trip and a penalty for the girl across the way.” After “my friends betrayed me, but I wish them well,” after “I won’t be betrayed again,” after the close marking by “the closest of his closest,” he has now requested the nomination form for DISY’s internal elections. Hosanna and hallelujah, came the cry from Pindarou. Of course, asking for the form does not mean he will actually fill it in. Foulis is a crafty fellow; don’t swallow everything he tells you.
His latest maneuver buys the most precious commodity in any campaign: time. Time to get organized, to study the new landscape, and, naturally, to decide whether he will fill the form with 500 signatures or turn it into a little rocket and launch it “as far as his ladle can reach,” out of the Political Bureau’s window and toward the sewage treatment plant in Kotsiatis. Everything is still on the table, and suspense will remain at fever pitch until Oct. 26, the feast of St. Demetrios—not Demetriou; the similar name is purely coincidental—great be his grace.
If he runs and fails to secure the nomination, there is always the option of carrying on as an independent: a poor, lonesome cowboy, as Kelaidonis sang of Lucky Luke. And remember, Lucky Luke could shoot faster than his own shadow.
