Where's my dinner!?

So our political process has degenerated into a WWE non-title match. In one corner we have the champ: a lumbering behemoth who brandishes his undisputed title belt with impunity, though he can't (or won't) do a thing to please the crowd. Booed, heckled and jeered, every move he makes seems almost designed to incite further abuse from the frothing mob. They can't wait to see him stripped of the title and forced to eat humble pie.

Unfortunately, facing him is only the scrawny, babyfaced whipping boy. He's the loudmouth asking-for-a-beating David to the champ's obnoxious Goliath. Severely lacking ring experience and technical skill, babyface only has one tactic: scream, cry, bemoan the unfairness of the situation and boldly display how much pain he is suffering since he is either unwilling or unable to negotiate the latest administrative screw-up on his own steam. The pathetic spectacle he creates on the mat gets the crowd on his side (we so love to cheer the underdog) as the champ applies another headlock, business as usual.

Worryingly, as in any other wrestling promotion, the crowd ultimately decides who gets to wear the champion's belt. This child's game of play-wrestling may be fun to watch in the relative safety of the home, but it's no longer a game when we're signed on in the big leagues. On the international stage, just try throwing a pity party as our main strategy and we'll see how quickly we get our collective asses stomped flat. If that's all this boy's capable of, he's still got quite a few years worth of paying his dues before he can be anywhere close to deserve wearing the champ's belt.

Edit 01:
But if the champ insists on being suckered into allowing his opponent to define the field of battle and play his childish game, we might as well throw up our hands in collective despair. Can we just stick to running the country, please?

No worries, curry on!

The old folks of G-o-L were in fine form this evening. Usually, they're grateful just for what they get in one serving, but today their plates kept coming back into the kitchen with orders for more rice and porridge topped with curry gravy. It was almost like they knew the significance of the occasion: happy "Cook and share a pot of curry day"!